#v: what's your name ; reincarnated | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jujutsubaby · 5 months

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⛓️ lonely at the top ⛓️

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader x true form!sukuna ☆ summary: you are the great ryomen sukuna's favorite healer from the heian era, reincarnated in the modern time. for centuries, you have also been his favorite lover. but when sukuna returns one day with a shockingly handsome blue-eyed sorcerer, you cannot help but feel threatened. no matter what sukuna's plans are for this newcomer, however, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top. ☆ tags: slight canon divergence, smut with a lil plot ¬‿¬ ☆ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! handjob, oral sex (m/f!receiving; yes this includes sukuna's abdomen mouth lmao); voyeurism; exhibitionism; fingering; p in v; anal; overstimulation; masturbation ☆ a/n: ok the promised (and voted upon) sukugo fic is FINALLY here my loves :3 i had to add reader in the mix too though bc girls just wanna have fun. also writing this kinda made me a sukuna truther :/ maybe i understand gege and sukuna kaisen just a little bit more now :/ ANYWAY ENJOY!!! ☆ wc: 8k

when you had heard of Lord Sukuna's imminent duel with the infamous Satoru Gojo, you knew it would be prudent to practice your Reverse Cursed Technique. you had always been Lord Sukuna's favorite healer (among other things), but that had been the Heian Era. this new time was as foreign and strange to you as the delicate new body into which you had been reincarnated.

and so, when Lord Sukuna re-enters the compound you share with his other most trusted servants and loudly calls for you, you are prepared. flexing your practiced fingers and preparing to channel positive cursed energy, you hurry to the threshold from which his voice had emanated and immediately sink to a kneeling position, your head turned to the floor. as expected, Lord Sukuna had come straight to the healing quarters.

"you summoned me, Lord Sukuna?"

Lord Sukuna approaches you; his footsteps sound heavy and slow. he is exhausted, you can tell, but he does not seem grievously injured as you had expected. so why did he call for you?

your head still inclined downwards, you stifle a gasp as you notice rivulets of blood darkening the floor beneath you and staining your pristine robes.

"you will heal him," Lord Sukuna says simply. you hear a heavy thud hitting the bed you had prepared so carefully for your lord. actually, mystifyingly, you hear two thuds. you chance a glance upwards, and your heart drops when you see that Lord Sukuna has indeed deposited severed halves of some unfortunate sorcerer's body onto the bed. from his pallor, you can tell he has already lost quite a lot of blood. this is beyond any healing you have ever performed in any era. you briefly wonder whether your beloved lord is setting you up to fail when he speaks up.

"i trust you understand that failure is not an option."

"yes, my lord."

"y/n," he says more quietly. you nearly shudder at the sound of his tongue lavishing attention on your name. "i keep you in my employ because you are the only healer worthy of serving me."

it is a statement of arrogance, but it is also one of reassurance. someone who has served as his trusted servant for as long as you have learns how to understand his sometimes esoteric cues.

you feel a firm hand grip your jaw and tilt your face upwards. you are greeted by a sight you have not seen in centuries: Lord Sukuna in his true form, in all his magnificence. his tattoos stand starkly against his glistening torso. his arms, now four in number as you recall, are corded with muscle; the grip his massive hand has on your face could easily crush your windpipe — and yet, it does not. it never would, so long as you serve your purpose. you cannot help but bask in his glowing charisma. this was the sorcerer you were so proud to serve.

"it is my honor to serve you, my lord. i will heal the sorcerer, i swear it."

noticing your desirous eyes raking over his form, his cruel mouth forms a lazy smirk, which is mirrored in the mouth of his stomach. the effect is equal parts unnerving and disarming.

"come, y/n," Lord Sukuna says, pleased with your reaction to his true form. "let us see your patient for the evening." he seizes your shoulders with his second set of arms, and indelicately pulls you to your feet before marching you towards the bed.

Lord Sukuna must still be unused to inhabiting his true body after possessing so many weak mortal vessels, you muse, for he is being far rougher with you than usual. you find that you do not mind, however. in spite of the grave situation, you feel heat embarrassingly beginning to pool at the apex of your thighs at the feel of Lord Sukuna's thick fingers and their crushing grip on your narrow shoulders.

the man in the bed is muscular, although nowhere close to Lord Sukuna's physique. that said, he looks youthful, and strong enough to have put up a good fight. perhaps he would even be strong enough to recover from his horrendous injuries under your expert healing hands.

but who was this man? why was Lord Sukuna so insistent upon healing him? and how was he injured like this in the first place?

your eyes wander to his upper half, and you pause on his face. handsome, with delicate features and a shock of messy white hair. his eyes are slightly agape, and you note that they are the uncommon blue of a summer sea.

blue?

you gasp in spite of yourself and turn to your master, momentarily forgetting that propriety dictates that you not maintain eye contact with someone so many levels above yourself.

"forgive me, Lord Sukuna, but...Satoru Gojo?"

Lord Sukuna does not seem to mind your lapse in etiquette, as he meets your gaze with a grin.

"he put up a marvelous fight. talent like that should not be extinguished, even though most sorcerers doubtlessly dream of being defeated by somebody like the great Sukuna," he says.

Lord Sukuna was always able to make such grandiose statements about himself that would sound asinine coming from any mere man. with the great Lord Sukuna, statements like these are simply the truth. he has always been so far above any human you have known, which is why his fascination with Satoru Gojo is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. mortal humans, including you, need to know their place. that maxim should include Satoru Gojo, too.

Lord Sukuna's voice shakes you from your reverie. "oh, and y/n?" his normally commanding voice is alarmingly soft, and laced with...something. something typically reserved for his favorites, like you.

"yes, Lord Sukuna?" you ask, carefully keeping your head angled downwards towards the bed so as not to repeat your earlier eye contact gaffe.

you watch as Lord Sukuna reaches a hand out towards Satoru Gojo's listless face to slap the young man's elegant cheek.

"do be gentle with your technique. i want this one staying pretty for me."

ah.

so that was why Lord Sukuna had taken such pains to rescue Satoru Gojo.

with that, Lord Sukuna turns on his heel and leaves you to your patient.

you anticipated healing Gojo's injuries to be your greatest challenge yet, but it is far more taxing than you ever could have known. your Reverse Cursed Technique was meant for healing injuries, but what had happened with Gojo's body was almost beyond an injury.

it had taken you hours in the first place to even figure out a way to use your RCT in this situation, until you had realized that delicate threads of cursed energy still emanated from Gojo's body. even if it was physically severed, his cursed energy still lived, if only barely. it is a testament to the sheer magnitude of Gojo's cursed energy that some still survives; no wonder he had impressed Lord Sukuna so.

you use your RCT to trace the threads of cursed energy from one half of Gojo's body to the other; in doing so, you are able to treat the severing merely as a thinning of cursed energy, and thus as an injury rather than a full separation. you breathe a sigh of relief as you observe one thread of his torso knit itself back together under your watchful eye.

now to repeat the process for the entire circumference of his body. you stretch and sigh; this would be a long night. at least you have a way forward now, though. disappointing Lord Sukuna was never an option.

as you continue reconnecting the flesh and gristle that makes up Satoru Gojo, you find yourself increasingly unable to ignore his objective beauty. as a healer, you always possessed great admiration for the physical form, and Satoru Gojo just happened to be a prime specimen. perhaps the fact that Lord Sukuna had found him to be a worthy adversary (and prize, you remind yourself) also influenced your judgment.

you feel a strange intermingling of lust, jealousy, and envy at the thought. you are well aware that Lord Sukuna has a prodigious sexual appetite that requires countless mortals to satisfy, but you have long been secure in your position as his favorite plaything. now, however, compared to Satoru Gojo, you cannot be so certain; he possesses beauty and power in spades.

you shake your head. this is neither the time nor the place to be evaluating Lord Sukuna’s judgment; favorite or not, it is your duty to complete the task he so graciously entrusted you with. you are not sure of how long you continue to sew Satoru Gojo’s body back together, but you are aware that the sun’s citrus glow has long faded.

Lord Sukuna had always reminded you of the sun, although you have never been bold enough to tell him such a silly romanticism. but in its radiant beauty, burning power, and distance alike, you see your liege. much like the sun, Lord Sukuna had shone on you, and in his light, you had blossomed. you had been an obscure village herbalist’s apprentice until he had found you; you had hardly even been aware of your latent healing powers. it had been Lord Sukuna who had seen your immense potential, and who had honed your sorcery to the level it was today.

even the fact that he had burned down your village the day he whisked you away had done little to dim your fervent gratitude.

the moon begins to rise higher in the night sky now, its light filtering through the shuttered windows of the healing quarters as you continue working. Satoru Gojo’s natural beauty takes on an ethereal glow when bathed in moonlight. the battle between him and Lord Sukuna must have been a sight to behold; as you reconnect his body, you feel his cursed energy growing and twisting into itself with taut strength.

Finally, when his halves become whole again, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The full moon that night meant you did not require a lantern, but the moon is setting now, and you want to give Satoru Gojo’s body a final check.

as you rise to leave the room for a lantern, you feel a hand clasp firmly about your wrist. you gasp softly.

“have i died? am i dead right now?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is hoarse with disuse. you had not expected him to be conscious again yet given the state of him; you suppose the fact that he is is a testament both to your healing ability and to his innate strength.

you sit back down, noticing that he does not loosen his grip on your wrist.

“you are still alive, Satoru Gojo, for i have healed your wounds,” you reply matter of factly.

his blue eyes, now that they are fully open and conscious, are even more shocking than they were when you first glimpsed them earlier that day. they seem to glow from within; they look like they hold full worlds within their depths.

“that’s weird,” Gojo continues. “i could’ve sworn i died and went to heaven seeing as i’m looking at an angel right now.” only when you see that he is grinning impishly at you do you realize he is flirting with you.

your lip curls in distaste, and you extricate your hand from his grasp.

“i am no angel. i am a sorcerer, as you are. you were as good as dead, split clean in half, but i channeled my Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you,” you conclude with pride.

Gojo looks down at his stomach, shiny and pink with fresh scar tissue.

“you must be some sorcerer, then. i was positive i was a goner back there. i’m not sure even Shoko could’ve healed me like this. really nice work,” he muses. he is right, of course. you are unsure of who Shoko is, but Gojo is correct that very few sorcerers could heal such severe injuries. all the same, you loathe the warmth you feel at his admiration; Lord Sukuna’s confidence should be enough for you.

“anyway,” Gojo continues, “who are you exactly? where am i?”

“Lord Sukuna brought you here,” you say. “I am his healer.”

surely the mention of his formidable foe would shake Gojo’s arrogance. you relish the fear that Lord Sukuna’s name seems to inspire in other mortals.

this was unfortunately not the case with Gojo.

“that’s sweet, the ol’ guy wanted me healed up, huh?”

you bristle. “you will address Lord Sukuna with respect!”

Gojo merely laughs at your response, which infuriates you further. “i, for one, fail to see why he deigned to save such an insolent whelp like you,” you snap, succumbing to your rising temper.

“really?” Gojo asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “guess you don’t get the old guy the way i do. i’m pretty sure I understand why he wanted me alive.”

“then be so kind as to enlighten me,” you say sardonically.

“i’ve been the strongest sorcerer around for basically my whole life,” Gojo says. in spite of the sarcasm in your voice when you asked him to explain himself, he seems sincere. “fighting Sukuna was the first time i felt even remotely challenged. he even technically beat me, i guess.”

he watches you, waiting for you to respond. when you are still silent, he continues.

“i’m sure he feels the same way i do. i know i challenged him the way he challenged me, and for sorcerers at our level, finding a true adversary is hard. once you do find one, letting go can be just as hard.” Gojo sounds wistful; you wonder if he speaks from experience.

“i guess what i’m saying is that it’s lonely at the top,” he finishes; his earlier amusement is gone, and he seems somber now.

you find that you pity Gojo. to be a sorcerer can be a lonesome existence. Lord Sukuna, while alone in his caliber, at least has you and his other servants and devotees to warm and distract him. does Satoru Gojo have anyone?

you reach a hand forward and begin tracing the planes of his pale face with your fingers. he lacks Lord Sukuna’s raw power, but his beauty is exquisite. Gojo leans into your comforting touch.

“how can i ever thank you for bringing me back to life?” he murmurs. as your hand passes near his lips, he stills it with his own and kisses it softly.

you gasp sharply and withdraw your hand as though burned.

“that was wrong,” you say urgently. “you cannot touch me like that.”

Gojo sighs. “you really are devoted to that old man, aren’t you?”

“we both belong to Lord Sukuna,” you reply, emphasizing his proper title. “you must respect his authority over us both.”

“maybe you belong to Sukuku,” Gojo says; you cringe at his inane nickname for Lord Sukuna, but you suppose anything is better than merely calling him an old man. “i, on the other hand, only belong to me, myself, and i.”

you exhale in irritation. no matter how great a sorcerer Satoru Gojo is, his arrogance is certainly grating. part of you wishes you had left him severed in two — at least he was quieter that way. you recall Lord Sukuna once saying that the greatest sorcerers always seemed to possess even greater mental eccentricities; Satoru Gojo certainly proves that theory.

to your annoyance, as he speaks, he takes your hand in his again. you are bemused to find, however, that you do not wish to remove it. his hands are wiry, yet so powerful. there is power within your hands as well, you muse as you intertwine your fingers almost instinctively. your irritation, admiration, and pride are all coalescing into a confusing burn of…passion. how inconvenient.

“you are rather presumptuous, are you not?” comes a voice from the doorway. you gasp and tear your hand from Gojo’s once more, immediately prostrating yourself before Lord Sukuna. Gojo makes no move to even bow his head, meanwhile. typical.

“rise, y/n,” Lord Sukuna continues. “you must be giving our guest a rather unsavory impression of me with your theatrics.” slowly, you raise your face from the floor and see Lord Sukuna has crouched before you. he takes your face in one of his hands. you shiver — it has been so long since you have felt the touch of his true form. “am i not a benevolent master to you?” he murmurs; his face is so close that you can feel his warm, humid breath on the shell of your ear. it is all you can do not to tremble from desire.

with you still reeling from the close contact, Lord Sukuna rises smoothly back to his feet and saunters to Gojo’s bedside.

“you seem in high spirits, Satoru Gojo. i feared i had gone too far with you,” Lord Sukuna says, his tone casual as though he had not cloven the younger man’s body in two just hours earlier.

“oh, i can take much more than that, old man,” Gojo says, innuendo easily discernible from his tone. you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes; from what you had seen thus far, Satoru Gojo seemed to flirt with everybody he meets. that said, the image of Lord Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, of what Gojo’s playful tone was implying…your mind’s eye is running amok, loathe as you are to admit it. doubtlessly Lord Sukuna’s true form and the sleepless stress of the evening are perverting your mind in unforeseen ways, you reassure yourself.

Lord Sukuna seems tickled by Gojo’s irreverence, and you try not to feel envious. “is that so?” he inquires.

“a credit to your lovely healer, i gotta say,” Gojo continues, his shocking blue eyes twinkling as they meet yours. “she has a rare talent. you sure you need her? i have half a mind to take her with me when we’re done here.”

you know Gojo is being insufferable right now, and moreover irreverent to Lord Sukuna. you know that. but he’s just so handsome, and so appreciative, and so talented in his own right…you feel powerless to stop the breath from catching in your throat, flustered at his attention.

you find yourself thinking about how his smooth skin felt beneath your touch; cool, then warm as you breathed life back into him with your reverse cursed technique. taut, pulsating with the cursed power and blood in his veins.

so lost are you in your meditations of Gojo’s flesh that you nearly miss what Lord Sukuna replies.

“y/n certainly is a first rate sorcerer,” he says, flinging a fond look over his shoulder at you; predictably, you preen at his praise.

“what i enjoy most about y/n’s skill,” he continues, “is her fastidiousness. she leaves no stone unturned. in healing, jujutsu sorcery…and everything else. isn’t that right?” he asks you.

“y-you are too kind, Lord Sukuna,” you bluster, trembling like a newborn fawn. you are usually so comfortable with him, but the presence of a stranger is making you look upon Lord Sukuna with new eyes again.

“and i trust you have been equally thorough with our guest?” Lord Sukuna proceeds.

“of course, Lord Sukuna.”

“how disappointing to hear you lie to me, y/n,” Lord Sukuna tuts. “i know you have not been fully attentive to Satoru Gojo’s recovery.”

your face grows hot. what did you do wrong? you take pride in your work, after all; you would never do a sloppy job no matter the patient, but especially not for one so important to Lord Sukuna.

“my lord? i am afraid i misunderstand you. i have followed only the most careful healing protocols,” you say; this is as close as you dare come to talking back. Lord Sukuna is kind and merciful and great, but much like the fire he commands, his warmth can flare uncontrollably and singe everything in its vicinity if you are not cautious.

“have you made absolutely sure, for example, that Satoru Gojo’s new body is completely functional?” Lord Sukuna prods. he has now turned to face you. one set of his arms is crossed over his chest, while the other is crossed behind his back. his face looks stern, but the mouth on his stomach betrays a smirk.

“Satoru Gojo seems to be functioning as i would expect, my lord,” you reply.

“show me,” he says, stepping aside from Satoru Gojo’s bed. his body had been obscuring Gojo from your view, but you see now that the younger sorcerer has been watching the exchange with a hungry grin. there is clearly a subtext you are missing, but you dare not speculate what it is.

you approach Gojo and perform an examination of his body, as you would any of your patients. you test his reflexes, and check his pupils’ dilation and contraction (during the latter, they look like just a pinprick lost in an ocean. nobody ever warned you of the six eyes’ beauty). when you palpate his ribs, he groans slightly; you feel the sound vibrate through your fingers.

“he is recovering as i might expect, Lord Sukuna. of course, we must keep him under observation, but —”

Lord Sukuna cuts you off with an impatient click of his tongue. “i will not tolerate your inattention to detail!” he growls. your heart starts beating violently, feeling like it’s throwing itself against your breast from within.

you fight to keep your voice steady.

“please forgive my stupidity, my lord,” you grovel, prostrating yourself once more. “i truly am unsure of what more you want me to check. please, if you could just help me, i promise this will never occur again.”

you are mortified to feel the white-hot prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. Lord Sukuna had never spoken to you this way, not even when you had just begun working for him. back then, you had known next to nothing compared to your knowledge now. you rack your useless brain for something, anything, you might have missed, and come up empty. stupid, stupid girl. you just know this is the fault of Satoru Gojo, that irritating, gorgeous interloper. it is even more humiliating to be berated like this in his presence.

at Lord Sukuna’s silence, you direct your eyes as high as they can go from your position on the ground. you cannot see his face from this angle but you see his broad second mouth has gone from smirking to smiling outright with all its teeth. is he…not actually angry?

you raise your head a little further, emboldened by the sight, and see Lord Sukuna himself smiling down at you, his two expressions identical.

“what a pretty sight you make,” he coos, “on all fours looking up at me like that. my pliant, obedient girl.”

he lowers one of his hands to cup himself through his loose pants, and you clench your thighs together; you are immune to neither the effect of his words, nor to the sight before you.

he seamlessly bends down and raises you to your feet; as he holds you against him, it’s all you can do to hold yourself back from rutting against his massive body. but Lord Sukuna has always valued your restraint, and you know he has something planned for you.

he rotates you now so your back is to him, and cages you tightly to his body with all four arms. you gasp; you have forgotten this delicious sensation, of being so thoroughly engulfed by Lord Sukuna that it is almost as if he has subsumed you entirely. he has turned you to face Gojo, who has been watching the scene unfold with great interest. you feel Lord Sukuna’s hardness growing behind you, but you resist the urge to grind into it and remain perfectly still. his pliant, obedient girl.

“now, go attend to our guest,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a finger.

“yes, my lord,” you breathe, so aroused that you are nearly in pain.

he then bends down until his lips tickle the back of your ear, making you shiver.

“show Satoru Gojo that that mouth of yours is meant for greater things than just making pretty little apologies to me,” he murmurs; you feel his voice reverberate through your whole body. the last thing you want to do is detach yourself from Lord Sukuna right now, but you know what he desires of you, and you are always so eager to impress him. this is one of the things he loves about you, you know.

you return to Satoru Gojo’s bed as though to continue your examination; this time, however, you straddle him, desperate for just an ounce of friction to relieve your throbbing arousal.

“i thought you had forgotten about me,” he pouts.

“stop speaking, you stupid, beautiful man,” you reply, before tearing a kiss from his mouth. his lips are still slightly chapped from his hours of unconsciousness, and you rake your teeth across them. he groans into your mouth as you roll your hips until you feel him beginning to grow hard beneath you; the sensation sense frissons of pleasure through you, but you are single-minded in your task. you break your kiss abruptly and sit back, smirking at the pathetic whine Gojo lets out at your sudden absence.

Gojo is only wearing a simple robe you had dressed him in after repairing him; this provides you with convenient access to conduct your examination. you withdraw a vial of oil you had kept in the pocket of your own robes (admittedly in anticipation of Lord Sukuna’s arrival), spread it across your hand, and begin stroking him. “it seems that everything is in working order,” you remark as his erection grows under your expert ministrations. he moans and bucks into your hand.

“p-please…” Gojo pants. the sound of his neediness goes straight to your core, which is rapidly growing wetter. this is not the time to pay attention to yourself, though; not when you’re attending to a patient.

“‘please’ what, Satoru Gojo?” you tease; you know he has wanted to feel your mouth around him ever since Lord Sukuna alluded to it. you are enjoying watching this powerful sorcerer squirm by your hand, however. you glance over your shoulder and see Lord Sukuna is stroking himself off as well, his pants doffed entirely. you gulp; it has been so very long since Lord Sukuna has been in his own body; the sight of his girth is making you flush with desire.

meeting your gaze, Lord Sukuna blows a kiss in your direction, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whining in sheer need to have him inside you. the sooner you obey him and pleasure Satoru Gojo, the sooner you may have the honor of feeling him stretch your walls; and so, you turn back to your guest.

Gojo has the most pathetic look in his stunning blue eyes, driven half mad by yet unfulfilled lust. his plush lips are twisted in a pained grimace. you see him moving his hand to give himself the pleasure you are denying him, but you hold it in place firmly.

“you’ve been such a patient boy so far; don’t ruin it now,” you coo, nipping his lower lip. you then undo his robe and crawl backwards until your face hovers over his engorged cock. you place a light kiss at its warm tip, licking off a bead of precum, before looking back up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Gojo tilts his head back, exposing the delicate white expanse of his throat.

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “i need you!”

the sound of your name on his needy tongue is having quite an effect on you, and you finally take pity on him; he only just recovered, after all. in one smooth motion, you take as much of his length as you can in your mouth. Gojo groans at the feeling of the warm wetness engulfing his cock, and you begin moving your head up and down, complementing the motions with your tongue as you cup his balls with your free hand.

“feel free to gag her,” Lord Sukuna calls from his corner of the room. “her little throat can take it.”

Lord Sukuna instructing Gojo on how to fuck your mouth is turning you on more than you can handle, and you moan involuntarily around his length. Gojo threads his fingers through your hair and pushes your head down on him; you swallow and feel him filling your mouth, his tip battering your throat mercilessly. you can tell from his increasing pace, from the guttural growls the feeling of you is drawing from him, that he must be getting close.

finally, finally, you feel a strong, calloused, beautifully familiar pair of hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and you could cry in relief.

“you have been such a good girl for me,” Lord Sukuna hums sensually. “and i always reward loyalty.” you buck your hips backwards into him, raising them to provide him readier access to your dripping cunt. you feel the pads of his thumbs stroke over your ass as his tongue begins lapping at your folds. his second tongue, you can tell, from its breadth and roughness plundering you. for all its added size compared to his primary tongue, however, Lord Sukuna is no less exacting with it, and he is soon circling your clit with painful accuracy. he does not wait long before giving you the pleasure you crave, and almost embarrassingly quickly, you come all over his massive tongue with a wanton moan.

with the sound of your orgasm, and the feel of your moan vibrating around him, Gojo fists your hair even more tightly and releases hot ropes into your throat with a growl.

“swallow it all,” Lord Sukuna commands, reaching forward to stroke your hair. “swallow it down for me.” you are nothing if not obedient, and you dutifully swallow Gojo’s whole load, not letting a single drop go to waste. Gojo leans back on the headboard, spent, and relaxes his vice grip on your hair. you pop your lips off him, licking them clean and smirking to yourself at your ability to have someone like Satoru Gojo at your mercy.

“i believe our guest needs time to rest before we continue,” you hear Lord Sukuna say from behind you. you turn and see that he is leaning back casually on one of the other beds in the healing quarters. “let us leave him for the time being, y/n.”

you are a little disappointed to be stopping already, but you comply; Lord Sukuna is probably correct that too much excitement for Gojo could hinder his healing process. you make your way towards the doorway, yawning a little, when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. before you have a chance to react, you’re roughly tugged backwards, spinning directly into Lord Sukuna’s firm chest.

“i don’t believe i dismissed you, did i?” he purrs into your ear, and a thrill of excitement slithers through your body.

“did i?” he repeats, pinching the tender skin at your waist at your silence.

“n-no,” you gasp, hardly able to focus over your excitement for what will inevitably follow.

Lord Sukuna twists his hand, making you hiss lightly at the pleasurable pain.

“‘no’ what, y/n? how is it you should address me?”

“no, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to breathe out. he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through his chest before bending you over an empty bed, holding both your wrists behind your back with one of his hands as he pushes your head down with another. you are already incredibly aroused when you feel a third hand begin to explore your slick folds.

“already so wet for me, are you?” he teases; you can hear the smirk in his voice. you can only whimper in response. he easily inserts two fingers into you, eliciting a sharp cry when he hooks them around and lightly tickles the sensitive spot that can make you come apart.

“now,” you manage to grind out between your teeth. “please, my lord…i need you inside me now…”

“making demands now?” Lord Sukuna taunts. “we certainly are feeling cheeky this evening, aren’t we?”

in spite of his words of chastisement, however, Lord Sukuna seems intent on granting your wishes, and you feel his stiff head, moist with precum, brushing once, twice, thrice against your entrance, building up friction. then, in one decisive motion, he enters you at last; Lord Sukuna was, by all definitions and especially mortal standards, extremely well-endowed; however, you have been ready for him for so long that his length faces little resistance. you sigh in relief at the feel of his massive girth stretching your walls, making you feel so full and complete. at times like this, you feel that your body was created to accommodate him, that being used like this by him was your most sacred purpose.

you push back against him, trying to seat him even more deeply within yourself. in response, he strokes your hair affectionately. he then pulls out slightly, and with one more thrust, he bottoms out in you with a groan.

he begins to drive into you with greater speed and urgency, two of his hands holding your hips in place so tightly that you know his broad fingertips will leave bruises. he adjusts his angle, pushing your face into the mattress and bending over you until your bodies are flush, and he continues at an unrelenting pace. your pleasure continues to build as he bottoms out again and again inside you, his massive second tongue slavering lasciviously over the curves of your back, until you come for the second time that night. you cry out in ecstasy without shame, feeling your walls clench even more tightly around Lord Sukuna. he groans at the sensation and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he empties himself into you until his come drips down your thighs.

utterly sated, you begin to crawl out from under Lord Sukuna’s massive form, your legs trembling with exertion, pleasure, and pain alike. your shaky breath leaves your lungs all at once when he abruptly flips you on your back. he is so imposing and beautiful, hovering over you like this, with an inscrutable look in his cruel, narrow eyes.

“i believe i already told you, y/n,” he growls, “you are dismissed only when i dismiss you. and i am nowhere near through with you yet.”

holding himself up with two arms, he takes your hand with a third and draws it down until it is around his cock, which is already hard again.

“look what you do to me,” he murmurs, before using your hand to brush his tip against your still-tender vulva.

“i’m not yet ready, my lord,” you whimper weakly, trying to wriggle out from his grasp to no avail. you gasp as he grinds himself between your thighs and against your slickened entrance, growing harder still. the friction almost surpasses pleasure to pain after your powerful recent orgasm, and you keen loudly, unable to help yourself. “i-it’s…too much…i can’t take it,” you protest, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Lord Sukuna promptly silences your noisy cries by clamping a swift hand to your throat.

“i alone dictate what you can and cannot take,” he declares, gently pressing on the sides of your neck and slipping a hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together. with uncharacteristic tenderness, he then kisses the tears from your cheeks.

“and i know you can take this.”

he stares into your eyes until you assent with a silent nod, and he smiles.

“good girl,” he whispers, before using his hand to pry your thighs apart and positioning himself properly. he buries himself inside you again, this time with minimal resistance — between your and his combined juices, you are sopping wet now. encouraged, he hitches your leg over his shoulder for deeper access to your core and begins thrusting into you in earnest. from this new angle, he drives right into your most sensitive inner point, and you are sure your cries can be heard throughout the compound. you hardly care who can hear you now, though; you hardly even pay attention to Gojo, who is now looking fully alert and wide-eyed at the show he is getting.

you dig your fingernails into Lord Sukuna’s sinuous shoulders and cry out again and again until your voice grows hoarse.

“say my name,” Lord Sukuna commands between his own grunts of pleasure.

“L-Lord Sukuna,” you moan, your voice shaking as his thrusts increase in pace. he wraps his hand around your throat again.

“my true name, y/n” he growls. he drives into you faster; you know he is close, and it is your privilege to bring him over the edge.

as soon as he releases his grasp on your neck, you reach up, stroking your hand through his unruly hair before pulling his ear down to your lips. “as you wish, Ryomen,” you purr into his ear. he moans and nearly folds you in half as he drives into you at a diabolical pace. as he reaches his peak, he withdraws his length from you and unleashes his load all over your stomach, marking you as his own; the thought that you had this effect on him, this power over him, multiplies your own pleasure, and you climax once again, your legs shaking and toes curling in sheer bliss.

Lord Sukuna rolls off of your body, both of you breathing heavily.

“now, y/n,” he pants, “you are dismissed. i shall attend to our guest in your stead.”

your exertions have exhausted you, but you are still obedient to him before anything else. and so, covered in both of your comes, his saliva, and a sheen of your own sweat, you bow deeply, and excuse yourself from the room. you are so utterly sated, so pleasurably sore, that all you can think of is taking a hot bath and resting.

well…almost all you can think of.

Lord Sukuna’s final statement has piqued your curiosity, however. and that is why, rather than returning right away to your own quarters, you find yourself kneeling on the floor peering around the curtain closing off the medical wing. if you are perfectly silent and still, you can remain undetected. besides, you reason, Gojo is still your patient, and so it behooves you to keep a close eye on his recovery.

(why leave everything to the imagination, after all?)

by the time you are settled in from your covert viewing spot, you see that Lord Sukuna is standing by Gojo’s bedside. the younger sorcerer is fully awake and alert now, peering up inquisitively with those blue eyes of his.

“is it finally my turn now, then?” he asks; you note that he sounds slightly petulant and roll your eyes. was he really jealous now, of all times?

You can only see his muscled back from where you sit, but you know from how his shoulders shake that Lord Sukuna is laughing at Gojo’s insubordination.

“you have seen what i demand, Satoru Gojo,” he says, crossing both sets of arms. “do you believe you can keep up, even in your state?”

you know that Lord Sukuna’s line of questioning is only pretense, of course. you recall why it was that Lord Sukuna had brought back Satoru Gojo for you to heal. and you remember his request — i want this one staying pretty for me, he had said.

“of course i can ‘keep up,’” Gojo scoffs. “can you keep up, old man? you seemed to get pretty tired just then.”

you grimace at Gojo’s disrespect, but Lord Sukuna is made of sterner stuff, and he just laughs even louder before clapping a pair of hands around Gojo’s beautiful face. you note that Gojo flinches, if only for a split second.

“such a mouth on you,” he hums, brushing a thumb across Gojo’s bottom lip. “just look at you. we will have to do something about that attitude.”

“like what?” Gojo asks, his eyes glimmering with anticipation that you can see even from where you sit. “what exactly is it you would do, Sukuku dear?”

“you seem to have your own ideas already. what is it you would have me do?” you can hear Lord Sukuna’s grin, even if you cannot see it.

Gojo simply winks.

“here’s an idea. why don’t you split me in half again?”

Lord Sukuna laughs heartily before leaning forward over Gojo’s bed, slightly obscuring your view.

“what an idea, Satoru Gojo. would you enjoy that?”

for some reason, Gojo does not answer right away; you try to crane your neck around to see what is happening, but he speaks again soon.

“y…yes…” he responds, suddenly breathless. “i believe i w-would.”

suddenly, you realize that, while you cannot see all of Gojo’s body from this angle, you can see one of Lord Sukuna’s arms moving rapidly up and down, and you can see a blush beginning to color Gojo’s delicate cheeks. your breath catches in your throat as you put together what it is you are witnessing. scrambling for a better view, you decide that both men are occupied enough that you can creep back into the corner of the room and hide behind one of the beds for a clearer angle.

“and are you certain you can truly take me? all of me?” Sukuna inquires, continuing his businesslike tone as though he is not currently stroking his rival off.

“mm-of course,” Gojo keens.

“‘of course’ who?” Lord Sukuna prompts, repeating the routine he loves to do with you.

“forget your own name, Sukuku? you gettin’ senile?” he pants with a grin that is equal parts lascivious and mischievous. this is bratty behavior Lord Sukuna never had to suffer from you, so you wonder with eager anticipation how he will respond.

Lord Sukuna merely tuts in response. “what a shame. whether you can accommodate all of me or not, we will have to fix that smart mouth of yours first.”

he fists a hand in Gojo’s fine white hair, easily palming his full skull as he pulls back until the blue-eyed sorcerer is looking straight up at him.

“i happen to know the best cure for a smart mouth,” Gojo says with a feral grin. he darts his tongue out and swipes it swiftly across Lord Sukuna’s swollen tip.

“get on with it, then,” Lord Sukuna growls, roughly forcing Gojo’s head onto his length. you grimace at the vigor with which Lord Sukuna rams himself down Gojo’s throat which looks so dainty to you, but he slurps eagerly on it; it seems Satoru Gojo is never one to shy away from a challenge.

watching Lord Sukuna use Gojo’s throat so mercilessly, and Gojo meeting the task with such enthusiasm, you find yourself unable to resist snaking a hand down between your legs, where you feel heat and tension building once again. as you toy with yourself, careful to remain as quiet as possible, you see Sukuna pull Gojo’s mouth from his still-hard cock with a wet pop.

“you have proven yourself to me,” he says, releasing his grip on Gojo’s hair to caress it tenderly back from his face. “and it is time for your reward.” you hold your breath; this should be a treat for you, as well.

with a grip on Gojo’s shoulders, he raises him from the bed; Gojo, still a little shaky on his legs, braces himself back against Lord Sukuna’s body. Gojo is by no means a small man, but his form is still engulfed when he is up against Lord Sukuna; you bite your lip at the thought and rub yourself faster.

Lord Sukuna reaches around Gojo to the bedside table, where you had deposited your vial of oil, and lubricates his fingers with a few drops. his hands should still be slick with all of your combined secretions, you reason, but Lord Sukuna always takes extra precautions given his immensity. then, gently bending Gojo back over, he inserts one finger. Gojo throws his head back against Lord Sukuna’s chest and groans as he gets accustomed to the feeling, and he moans outright as Lord Sukuna inserts his second finger.

the sight and sound send hot coils of pleasure through you, and you have to clap a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from mirroring the sounds Gojo is making.

“are you prepared for me to split you in half again, as you so eloquently put it?” Lord Sukuna purrs against the shell Gojo’s reddening ear.

“yes!” Gojo cries without hesitation.

“would you beg for it?” Sukuna prods, not one to give his rival what he is asking for so easily.

“please!” when Sukuna makes no moves to proceed, Gojo cries out again. “please, Lord Sukuna,” he breathes. “please make me yours.”

“good,” Lord Sukuna says, leaves a bruising bite at the nape of Gojo’s neck. “well said.” then, preparing his length and using both sets of his arms to position himself and Gojo optimally, Lord Sukuna enters him with agonizing slowness. you are unsure of whether you even thought to hold yourself back from moaning this time, but it is drowned out in any case by Gojo’s own needy vocalizations.

as he pumps in and out of Gojo, all three of you are overcome by your own pleasure, by the complicated dynamics you have brought into the medical wing and worked out in such a raw and wild way. your earlier feelings of confused irritation for Gojo dissipate as you watch his beautiful form twisting in paroxysms of pleasure; in him, you see yourself. as the two men climax at nearly the same time, scattering their pearly semen across the sheets and each other, you find yourself peaking soon after, tears streaming down your face in sheer joy.

As Lord Sukuna settles Gojo back down into the bed for him to continue his recovery, he gives him a fond pat on the head.

“you were magnificent, Satoru Gojo.”

the sorcerer gives a little self-satisfied smile before falling into a deep slumber nearly immediately, and you make a mental note to ensure that all the exertion did not compromise his healing in any way. before Lord Sukuna can turn back around, you gather your earlier discarded robe around yourself and quietly crawl back out of the room and behind the curtain, pleased with yourself for not being caught.

or so you thought.

“there is no need to exit on my account, y/n,” he calls, not turning around. you gasp before re-entering sheepishly.

“i apologize, my lord. i merely wished not to disturb you both, so i did not make myself known,” you explain rather weakly.

“i am pleased you… enjoyed yourself,” he says, finally looking over his shoulder at you with a knowing smile that makes you shiver with shame.

“you seem to have enjoyed yourself as well, my lord,” you reply; your envy of Gojo for earning Lord Sukuna’s attention is building back up, and you are unable to keep it from your voice.

“oh, y/n,” Lord Sukuna chuckles fondly, closing the space between you with long strides before he is clasping you to him.

“Satoru Gojo is a novelty.” he leans down until your mouths meet, and your breath catches.

“you, however,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot, “are mine. do you understand?”

“yes, my lord,” you breathe back into him, hardly daring to move.

he steps back from you first, calling for Uraume much to your confusion. the soft spoken chef, a long-time friend of yours inside the compound, appears with their characteristic quiet swiftness. much like yourself, Lord Sukuna has implicit trust in their devotion, and so often depends on them for personal tasks even beyond their formal role in the kitchen. as such, you have both built a mutual respect for one another. you nod a cordial greeting at them, which they return.

“you called for me, Lord Sukuna?” they ask with their careful diction.

“please draw a bath and get y/n cleaned up for me,” he says.

you look at him inquiringly, and he chuckles darkly, his previous tenderness all gone.

“you and your pleasure both belong to me, y/n,” he reminds you. “and i know i did not give you my permission to…enjoy the show.”

you gulp, and he turns back to Uraume.

“get her prettied up for me,” he continues with a devious grin of anticipation, “and bring her back to me so i may discipline her appropriately for her disobedience.”

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lemonmaid · 5 months

Text

You know what I love chat? Reincarnation.

Imagine being Sukuna's lover in every universe, in every life, every time stamp, but not surviving a single one.

Sukuna remembering every, e v e r y single one. The anguish, the raw feeling he feels every single time watching you die.

Warnings: slowly crippling insanity, yandereish, pregnancy, male pregnancy, omegaverse, mention abortion, gender neutral reader but the first and second are female and male, child birth, sacrificing

First.

It was a typical love story, a farm boy meeting a daughter of a shaman. When Sukuna first started courting, the man of the house, (Name)'s mother, told him that he had bad, very demonic energy and needed to be cleansed. (Name) and Sukuna rolled their eyes and eloped.

Sukuna rushed to his shared home with you. He was in the fields working in the blistering summer heat when a messenger ran towards him, telling him his wife was in labor.

He felt ecstatic. He prayed to the gods that your delivery would be safe.

Appernlty no gods bared him that request.

"Mrs Ryomen!! Relax".

(Name) let out a pained cry, their stomach contracted, tighting to move the babe from their stomach, "I- FUCK! I CANT!".

Midwives held onto (Name)'s hands, easing (Name) onto their knees, "Ma'am- you have to push-".

Sukuna slammed open the door, hearing his wife's crys, "I'm here!!".

(Name) looked at Sukuna with teary eyes, "Suki- OH GODS!".

Sukuna rushed to (Name)'s side, holding her hand, "Breathe my love-".

(Name) let out a scream, the midwives speaking amongst themselves. A small cry was heard, "it's a boy sir".

Sukuna held a proud smile on his face, looking down at his wife to see their reaction.

(Name) looked at Sukuna in a daze and back at their son, "he's beautiful Suki....".

Sukuna looked at (Name) with worried eyes, looking at the midwives, "something- hey- something is wrong!!".

One of the midwives looked under (Name)'s nightgown before going pale. One rushed out of the small hut. Sukuna gave his son to a midwife, before putting his focus on his wife, "hey hey hey, look at me, don't close your eyes".

The doctor didn't show up untill three hours later, but by that time (Name) was gone.

Sukuna looked at his crying son, his heart heavy, his mind weaked.

'I would do anything to bring them back'.

'Anything?' A voice rang out.

Sukuna looked backed at his crying son, then at the marbled statue at the altar.

That day, Sukuna murdered his own blood for a gamble with a hinnagami. It wasn't until his death that he knew what he wished for.

Second.

When Sukuna awoke, or when he first gained consciousness; he was in a different world or what he concluded a different universe.

Alphas, betas and Omegas.

It was... peculiar, different, but when he found you again, he stopped caring. You were a male this time, a beta male. It didn't matter to him. You were his mate, his soul mate, and he wasn't going to lose you this time.

"I want you to take birth control".

You looked at him with a deadpan face, "Okay werido".

"I'm serious".

You sighed. You've only dated or courted Sukuna for a year, and it felt like he knew everything about you, he had his quirks but it didn't make you love him any less.

"Baby." You reached over, grabbing his waist, "I'm a beta.... I can't get pregnant. "

"Sir, I'm surprised to say this, but you're pregnant".

Sukuna felt his heart drop to his chest. You were flabbergasted, "HOW!?" Both of you said in allusion.

"It looks like you're just.... an omega in terms".

Sukuna growled, "in terms of what? He doesn't have a scent nor-".

"I understand that, sir, your mate has.... we just need to do further testing".

After the doctor left the room, Sukuna has his eyes on you. "You need to get an abortion".

Your eyes widen, "excuse me?".

"You need to remove the thing-".

"That thing is our pup-".

"It's going to kill you-".

"You don't know that! People give birth every day, and it there's, like, barely a chance of death! We live in a time of technology! Not like, the stone age!".

Sukuna huffed, "I think....".

"I think you're just scared, baby..." You grabbed his hand, "... it's..... I know you're scared and I am too, but I want this with you... I'm ready. " You smiled softly at Sukuna, your smile relaxing him.

You were five months pregnant when you died. Sukuna could've laughed. It wasn't this pregnancy that killed you. No, it was a freak accident. Who would've thought that a fire happened at your work trapping you inside on your last day before maternity leave.

Three

When Sukuna awoke again, he vowed to just convince you (trap you) to stay at home. This time, he would get a vasectomy when he was of age.

Sukuna searched for you.

He didn't care about this world.

He just wanted to find you.

He found you.

But you were already dead.

In this life, luckily, he had the chance to grow up with you. You both went to the same school, became highschool sweethearts.

War broke out, separating you two.

No matter how much Sukuna fought against it, he was drafted. Sukuna didn't care who he hurted, he just wanted to go back home to you.

Which is why he cut his own foot off. He heard of other men doing the same thing, so why couldn't he?

While waiting in the discharge center he found out that his home town had been bombed.

Sukuna started hating humanity.

He hated this curse.

He hated that no matter what lifetime he was in, he could never have you to himself.

489

This life started out strange. He was born back into the Hiean period. But he couldn't find you. Instead of killing himself to reset the life, he decided to take centuries long frustration on humanity, it was a good run, people called him "King of Curses".

Instead of dying, cruelly, he was punished by being sealed. During that he rest he could only think of you and only you, how beautiful every form, every life you've had, you were still breath taking.

He couldn't stand the fear in your eyes. He came back, and here you are staring at him like he is a monster. Sure, this isn't his body. And yes, you just saw him take over your student's body. But it doesn't matter anyways, he's back.

And no one is going to take you away this time.

#heian era sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #male reader #female reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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mononijikayu · 2 months

Text

i wanna be your slave — ryomen sukuna.

In this intimate cocoon, where every sensation was heightened and every touch was electric, you and Sukuna were locked in a world of your own making. The heat and arousal created an environment of pure, unfiltered mess and desire, the outside world nothing more than a distant memory. Sukuna's breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a deep, commanding murmur. “Forget what they told you, hm?” he said, his tone laced with a dark, seductive edge. “All those warnings, all those fears—they mean nothing here.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence

Warning/s: Alternate Universe, NSFW, Concubine! Reader, Heian! Trueform Sukuna, R-18, Pure Smut, Explicit Sex, Roughness, Unprotected Sex, P on V Sex, Double Penetration, Pet Names, Praising, Patronizing Insults, Teasing, Breeding, Size Differences, Overstimulation, Creampie, Possessiveness, Profanity, Mentions of Body Parts, Mention of Explicit Sexual Acts, Mention of Breeding, Mention of Rough Acts, Reader Is Trying to Survive Sukuna, Sukuna's Obssessed As Hell;

Words: 3.2k words.

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 800;

note: i don't know if i wrote this very well but this was really something that i took a time to write this because i kept imagining how the positions would work in my head. also sukuna really is hot guys like heian sukuna does things to me??? ashes of love really should have been this too ngl??? anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all!! see you on the satoru reincarnation series <3

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

YOU ALWAYS SURRENDERED TO SUKUNA FAST. The room was saturated with a heady blend of heat and arousal, the atmosphere almost palpable in its intensity. The air was dense, carrying the weight of your shared desire as it mingled with the primal, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin. Each slap of Sukuna’s hips against yours echoed with a visceral, urgent rhythm that seemed to reverberate through every corner of the room.

The walls themselves felt like they were closing in, drawn tighter by the charged energy of the moment. The temperature seemed to rise with every movement, the warmth of your bodies pressed together creating a cocoon of intimacy and passion. This charged environment only intensified the connection between you and Sukuna, making every touch and thrust feel magnified.

Every motion between you two seemed to magnify the electric tension that hung in the air. As Sukuna’s body moved against yours, each shift and thrust was a testament to the raw, unfiltered power he exerted. His control over the situation was palpable, a tangible force that heightened the pleasure and surrender coursing through you.

The rhythmic clash of your bodies was both relentless and hypnotic, a primal dance of domination and submission. The sound of your breaths mingling with the rhythmic pounding was music to your lord’s ear, that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each stroke and shift in position was like a perfect note in a symphony of desire, amplifying the intensity and pushing deeper.

The heat in the room grew almost unbearable, not just from the physical exertion but from the charged atmosphere created by your shared passion. It was a space where every subtle movement, every whispered breath, and every touch was amplified, magnifying the depth of your connection. The air was thick with anticipation, each moment stretching out as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable crescendo.

Sukuna's breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a deep, commanding murmur. “Forget what they told you, hm?” he said, his tone laced with a dark, seductive edge. “All those warnings, all those fears—they mean nothing here.”

You gasped, the sound swallowed by the intensity of his thrusts. Your body responded to him with a desperate need, and you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I don’t care about them, my lord.” you breathed out, your voice trembling with both pleasure and conviction. “I want it to be good. I want it hard. Only you can give it to me.”

A satisfied smirk curled on Sukuna’s lips, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of pride and desire. “You know that’s right, hm?” he growled, his voice rough with arousal. “No one else can touch you like this, no one else can make you feel what I do.”

His words were a taunt and a promise, each thrust a reminder of the exclusive, raw connection between you. “You need this, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and seductive. “You need me to push you, to make you feel every inch of me.”

You moaned in response, your body arching to meet his forceful movements. “Yes, my lord!” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the sound of your shared passion. “I need you. Only you can—”

“Only I can do what? Huh, little one?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone sharp and commanding. “My lord, huh? I am your only one. The only lord that can make you come undone, make you beg for more?”

“Uh—uh, yes!” you cried out, your voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. “Only you can make me lose control, make me feel this way.”

His grin widened, a dark satisfaction reflected in his eyes. “Good little girl..” he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Because I plan to make sure you never forget just how right it feels with me. I’ll push you, make you crave every moment of this.”

You could feel the way Sukuna’s hips moved with a relentless, rhythmic pounding, each thrust a masterful display of control and power. His smirk, a wicked and triumphant curve of his lips, spoke volumes about his dominance and satisfaction. It was clear that he reveled in the way he made you shiver and quake beneath him, finding pleasure in both the physical and emotional control he wielded. He liked power. You’ve always known that. You always knew that he was too good at it. And he liked it.

He alternated between the two with a deliberate precision, his cocks switching in and out of you with a calculated force. You could feel tears piercing through your eyes, one after another. He was hitting hard, he always has. Each motion was both punishing and exhilarating, a dance of dominance and submission that left you breathless and yearning for more. The friction between you was electric, building with every thrust until your body could no longer contain the overwhelming surge of pleasure.

As your lord Sukuna fucked you hard and fast, his movements were driven by a primal need to own you, to punish you, to pleasure you. You could feel everything. It’s the way one cock after the other pressed and stretched you with every thrust made your body quiver uncontrollably. You could feel your nerves, like they were on fire, each touch and penetration igniting a chain reaction of pleasure that coursed through you with relentless intensity.

You were reduced to nothing when it comes to him. And you liked it. When he picks you in the room, out of all those witless lines of girls, you always feel like you were the chosen one. Each night felt like you were being cleansed. He was your devil, giving your redemption. Looking to be cleaned by the mess he gives you. And you never complained like all those girls did. You took it. You loved it. You worshiped it, his pleasure.

Every inch of your body can only come alive with the sensation of your lord Sukuna’s cocks inside of you, overtaking you whole. Your eyes rolled back intensely as the sound of his hips meeting yours was a relentless thunderstrike, driving you closer and closer to the brink of completion. The more it hurt, the more it raged inside of you, the more your moans and gasps filled the room. Sukuna thinks that you create such a beautiful symphony of pleasure for him. With each surrender too, it can only ever become even sweeter.

The sensation of his cocks bullying deeper and deeper one after another into you was a blend of pain and pleasure, each thrust pushing you further into a state of complete submission. If anyone were to watch it, they would be sickened by it. To see such a lady be ravaged like she was a prey of some monster. But you didn’t care. You would think anyone watching would be too dead to give any opinion either.

His large hands gripped onto you tighter. You could feel the way your skin was slick with sweat, your body trembling under the sheer force of his dominance. You were exhausted to be sure, but you would never say that. Nor would you say that the friction was almost too much to bear. You wanted to make your lord feel good. You wanted to make yourself feel good too. This was exactly what you craved, this animalistic raw, unfiltered desire that surged between you cannot be stopped. Not when he has awakened it in you.

The more time went on and continued, the more the world outside ceased to exist. All that was left was reduced to the intimate space between you two, where his dominance and your submission were the only things that mattered. Your lips parted, loud mewls and cries escaping as he bullied his thick cocks impossibly deeper inside you. You wondered at times if there was even space for his cocks to go deeper into you. But you don’t think nothingness will stop him. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, the intensity overwhelming your senses.

“My poor little thing.” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I thought you liked this sort of thing? I thought you liked being my beauty, hm? Thought you liked how I could be a monster to you, with these cocks?”

“I–I…I do!” you moaned shakily, drool falling off your lips as your legs trembled as he switched fully to the other cock, the one you swore was even larger, stretching you to your limits. “‘I–I do! M–my lord….please….”

“Feeling me good down there, huh?” he teased, his voice a low growl that reverberated through you. “You could feel it well, how it swells inside you, hm?”

Sukuna hammered into you with an unrelenting rhythm, his movements taking on a relentless and demanding pace that left no room for respite. Each thrust hurt, it was a reminder. A powerful assertion of no one else but him could have shown. He was a force that drove deep into you with a precision that made your entire body quiver. The intensity of his movements was almost blinding, the world outside fading into insignificance as the sensation of him inside you became the only reality.

His cocks, thick and veined, always pushed against your walls with an almost brutal insistence. Your pussy struggled to accommodate his girth, the friction building with every deep, forceful thrust. His cock’s relentless pounding created a delicious stretch that had your walls clenching and tightening around him, trying desperately to adjust to his size. The sensation of being so fully and thoroughly filled was dizzying, sending waves of pleasure and overstimulation that pushed you closer to the edge with each passing moment.

Sukuna’s hands were firm and unyielding as they gripped your hips, the pressure of his fingers bruising against your flesh. The way he held you, forcing you to remain in place, accentuated the feeling of being completely at his mercy. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours with an almost predatory gaze. There was a challenge in his look, daring you to endure, to keep up with the relentless pace he set. He wanted you to take everything he had to give, and the sheer force of his gaze made it clear that he expected nothing less.

Your body responded instinctively to his relentless assault, meeting his movements with a desperate fervor that bordered on madness. Every thrust seemed to ignite a new level of pleasure within you, pushing you further toward the brink of ecstasy. The rhythm of his pounding was relentless, a ceaseless drive that had you gasping and moaning in time with each forceful push.

Your mind was a haze of pleasure, every sensation magnified to an almost unbearable intensity. The way Sukuna’s cocks moved inside you one after another, the way his hands held you in place, and the look of determination in his eyes combined to create a torrent of feelings that left you teetering on the edge of release. You clung to him, your body arching and writhing beneath him, driven by a primal need to meet his dominance with an equally fierce submission.

The four walls of this room seemed to spin around you over and over, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming tide of pleasure, lost in the sensation of lord Sukuna’s dominance and the exquisite pain and pleasure he brought with every thrust. In his arms, you were both undone and complete, your world reduced to the here and now, to the heat and power of Ryomen Sukuna’s touch.

Sukuna’s pace never faltered as he drove into you with relentless intensity, your body arching under his expert touch. His dark red eyes were dark with desire, a mix of possession and something deeper that flickered within their depths. He knows he owns you, and yet somehow — he still wants more of you. He still craves to own you. Over and over, each night he asks for your presence, to take you over and over. He still wants more. He still has the greed, the hunger to want more.

“You are my precious little one, hm? I cannot let anyone find you like this. Your lord is too jealous.” Sukuna growled, his voice rough with emotion as he watched you writhe beneath him. Each word was punctuated by a powerful thrust, sending a shiver of pleasure through you. “He does not like his little one getting looked at, hm? Only he can do that, don’t you agree?”

If a servant was out there, you knew that all they'd hear was your gasps and the sound of Sukuna’s hips slamming against you. But you doubt they would be allowed to live. No one was allowed to even be near this room when Sukuna took his rights with you. He wants it to only be him. He has always made it clear — you belonged to him. No one else.

You groaned as you pulled at his massive arms, trying to catch some levity. But as he changed the position slightly, to get deeper into you — you lose any relief. His massive hands moved to your thighs, pulling you closer, deeper, as if he could never get enough. You could feel it, your eyes were closing soon. You were passing out from exhaustion. He snickers.

“Make good on your promise, little one.” he continued, his breath hot against your ear. “Take it all. You cannot fail your lord now, my little willing cock slave.”

As though by sheer force of will, your body responded instinctively to his words. Tired as you were, you were eager to please and be blessed. You do all you could to keep your hips rising to meet his own, chasing the pleasure that only he could give. You were going to come, you were certain of that. You must last. You must make sure of it. You let out another round of groans and moans, your face falling deeper into the futon as his touch igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with every passing moment.

Lord Sukuna’s gaze never wavered from yours, his expression fierce and unyielding. His eyes bore into you with an intensity that seemed to challenge you, daring you to look away or deny the deep, primal connection that bound you together. There was a dark satisfaction in his gaze, a silent promise of dominance and fulfillment that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

As his rhythm quickened, the pace of his thrusts became even more relentless. His hips snapped against you with a force that was both commanding and punishing, each movement driving you closer and closer to the brink of complete ecstasy. The intensity of his thrusts was almost brutal, each powerful push sending waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for release.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk as he snickered, a sound that was both dark and triumphant. He could feel the way your body responded to him, the way you were on the edge of surrendering completely to the pleasure he provided. His eyes gleamed with a predatory satisfaction, knowing that you were ripe for the taking, ready to receive the full extent of his dominance and desire.

He could sense that you were prepared to take his cocks, that you were attuned to the pleasure they brought. His confident smirk widened as he considered the implications of your submission, his thoughts turning to more than just the immediate gratification. He thought about the possibility of his heir, a thought that only intensified his desire and determination. The idea of you carrying his legacy, of your body being marked by him in such a profound way, added a new layer to the already intense connection between you. Because there is no one more worthy. More perfect in his eyes. His little one, his favorite.

One after another, lord Sukuna drove home the feeling of his dominance, making it clear that you were his in every sense. The powerful rhythm of his hips, the unrelenting pressure of his touch, and the fierce intensity of his gaze combined to create a moment that was both exhilarating and all-consuming. The pleasure was overwhelming, and as you spiraled closer to the edge, you knew that this was not just about physical release but about something deeper, a connection that bound you both in ways beyond mere words.

As your lord Sukuna’s thrusts grew more erratic and intense, even more brutal than before — his control over the rhythm of his movements began to waver. The pressure building within him reached a fever pitch, and his gaze remained locked on yours with an unwavering intensity. Each thrust became more forceful, his hips snapping against you with a powerful urgency that drove you both closer to the edge.

The sensation of his cocks moving inside you, the sheer force of his dominance, and the pleasure coursing through your body reached a crescendo. Your moans and gasps were almost lost amidst the sound of his relentless pounding, your entire being consumed by the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

With a low, guttural growl, Ryomen Sukuna’s control finally shattered. He released inside you with a forceful, shuddering climax. His cocks pulsed and throbbed, sending thick, hot streams of his essence deep within you. The sensation of his release was both exhilarating and overwhelming, a powerful wave of warmth and satisfaction that filled you completely.

As he came, his grip on your hips tightened even further, the pressure a reminder of his dominance. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his expression a mixture of intense pleasure and fierce satisfaction. He could feel every spasm of your body around him, every tremor of pleasure that accompanied his release. His snickers of triumph were now replaced by a deep, primal satisfaction, knowing he had pushed you to the brink and beyond.

You, too, felt the impact of his climax, your body reacting instinctively to the warmth spreading inside you. The pleasure was a heady mix of relief and fulfillment, leaving you feeling both exhausted and deeply satisfied. Sukuna’s presence was a constant, heavy weight, a reminder of the intense connection that had just reached its peak.

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in heavy, uneven gasps. His gaze softened, though the intensity of his satisfaction remained. His smirk returned, though it now carried a note of smug satisfaction, as if he knew he had pushed you both to the limits and beyond.

“See how perfect this is?” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety growl. “You were made for this, for me. No one else could ever satisfy you like this.”

As your eyes close slowly, you can only know you were.

You were made for this, you were made by the devil for him.

As slumber takes hold of you, you can only let out a silent prayer.

You prayed that your lord Sukuna will never tire of his little one.

Because you knew, if he did, then he would have no more use for you.

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jjunieworld · 8 months

Text

── meet cute `🪄` . ִ ֗

pairing: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff fluff fluff, strangers to ???, magician!taehyun, some crack ??? idk

synopsis: you had a thought and a dream, you were going to be a magician. so you did what one who wants to be a magician does next, you went to a magic store. and what did you do? accidentally knock over a shelf of bang snaps and came face to face with an actual magician.

word count: 1k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: part four of my v-day event! cute and short little drabble after that heavy and angsty ass beomgyu oneshot! that episode of academy reincarnation really ignited a light in me. y/n also really reminds me of that one scene of rachel mcadams in the hot chick lmao.. i hope you enjoy! ♡

all your life you only wanted only one thing: to have magical powers. unfortunately, this was the real world. so, you had to do the next best thing—become a magician.

that’s how you ended up in the magic shop out in the outskirts of your town—the star seeker’s magical emporium—wandering up and down the aisles aimlessly. your fingers trailed along the various items. from cliché magical wands to stuff for making things “disappear,” this store had it all.

you were lost in your thoughts, thinking of how you could use all the items you saw when your eyes had caught on a product claiming that it could make you bend metal. in your distracted state, your legs had kept moving and in turn, you ran straight into the display of bang snaps.

the display and open boxes fell to the floor, loud snapping and sparks everywhere. you had jumped back in shock, a loud gasp coming from your lips, when an employee ran over with wide eyes. “oh my god… oh my god, i’m so—so sorry!” you sputtered, turning your attention to the employee.

he was wearing one of those stereotypical magician costumes, the ones with the top hat, cape, and tailored tailcoat. his gloved white hand held a thick, plastic looking wand. his dark hair was styled to the side out of his eyes. if it weren’t for the deep embarrassment and your face heating up, you would remark to yourself on how cute he was.

you got down to the floor as you began trying to clean everything up. “oh, it’s okay! don’t worry about it…” the employee said as he got down to help you. you looked at his name tag. taehyun.

“i completely destroyed the display, oh my god! how much does it all cost?” you asked as the two of you got everything cleaned up. you got to your feet at the same time he did, wiping the palms of your hands on your jeans. taehyun waved a hand in the air, “it’s really no problem! nobody really buys those things anyways except the kids who come in once in a blue moon.”

taehyun waved his plastic wand in the air and you chuckled. “see? abracadabra! now it’s like none of it ever happened!” he gave you a big smile as you returned the favor. “really? thank you so much!” you exclaimed. he rolled back and forth onto his tiptoes for a moment. “is there anything else i can help you with?” taehyun asked.

you hummed for a moment in thought, “no… but you work here! can you show me any magic tricks?” taehyun scoffed playfully, “can i show you any magic tricks… follow me!” he led you back to the counter and made his way behind it as he dug into the cash register.

taehyun pulled out a quarter and held it up in the air to show you. “watch as i make this quarter… disappear!” he beamed as he waved his other hand in front of the quarter. your eyes widened in shock, a smile creeping its way onto your lips as he held both of his hands up in the air. they were both empty.

“let me guess, it’s it your glove?” you said with a smug smile. you had watched hours of magic videos on the internet and knew just about every trick there was. taehyun shook his head, chuckling, “that’s for amateurs, i’m the real deal!”

he reached behind your ear, his hand brushing against the side of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. you heard a slight “ding!” sound as taehyun pulled his hand back, quarter sitting in it. with raised eyebrows and a smile still on his face, he presented it to you.

smiling, you crossed your arms across your chest. “okay, okay! but i want something cooler!” taehyun’s smile turned to a smirk and he leaned over the counter towards you. “alright… but for this one i’m gonna need your id, please!” you playfully furrowed your eyebrows at him and reached into your bag.

when you got your id out of your wallet, you slid it over to him on the counter and taehyun grabbed it, doing a little spin in the process. you laughed at his display and he smiled at you. “are you ready… y/n?” taehyun asked as he glanced down at your id and you nodded eagerly.

taehyun did a little show of waving his hand in front of your id, making it disappear and reappear. his eyebrows raised slightly as he held it up in front of you, eyes shining, before flicking the card quickly. with wide eyes, you held your hand over your mouth as your id turned into a small white card you didn’t see him grab.

he slid the card across to you on the counter, then waved his hand over it so your id was next to it. taehyun gave you a shy smile. you grabbed the white card from the counter and turned it over. it had his name and number written on it. grinning from ear to ear you looked back up at him.

“let me take you to dinner sometime? i can show you way better magic tricks than this… the store kind of limits me,” taehyun asked, looking away from your eyes briefly. you giggled and nodded at his proposal. “are you free tonight?” you asked him, placing the two cards back in your wallet.

taehyun chuckled and nodded, scratching the back of his head and making his top hat fall into his eyes ever so slightly. “i am, it’s a date! i’ll see you tonight!”

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047 @riaawr

v-day event masterlist┊masterlist┊request rules

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eclairsnme · 1 year

Text

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2

The brattiness continues (with a sprinkle of denseness)

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she thinks highly of herself, it’s almost as if she’s the reincarnation of Gojo Satoru.

oh, spoiler alert she's going to meet someone who also thinks very highly of himself. ^_−☆chu~

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

“Sae!”

The clacking of your high heels echoed throughout the airport as you chase your damn little brother.

What a sight out of a bad Netflix series, except it’s real life. But this is more like a horror movie for a celebrity like you. In your pristine clothes and all, chasing like a wild animal!

“Sae!” You huffed, trying to catch up with him.

Damn, that soccer player with his long legs.

What is a celebrity like me ME chasing a mere man down like that! -

That is exactly what your manager thought too, as he tries to keep up with you.

So, how did you exactly come to this point of peak desperation?

It all started last night when Sae relayed to you that he’s going back to Spain straight after the Japan U-20 match.

In all honesty, you didn’t really care all that much since an idol like you had better things to do (^-^)v.

Then it struck you. As a good sister… I should stop him!

Unlucky for you, being oblivious to all else except idol-related issues is your biggest flaw.

To put it simply, you were pretty dumb when it comes to relationships.

And that was the start of your plan to “stop” Sae from returning to Spain.

Lucky for you, Sae was smart. He halted his steps and said, “Sister, are you stupid?”

But his EQ wasn’t all that great.

“S-stupid?” You stuttered out at his bluntness.

“Yes.”

Sae looked around their surroundings noting that they had already caught the attention of some prying eyes.

Sigh

Sae continued, “Just go back home.”

“But,” you gave him your best puppy eyes. V✪ω✪V

But, indeed, he was unaffected by your usual antics.

“What business do you even have in Spain?”

“Well~ the business of being a good sister!”

A tangible silence ensues from the absurdity.

“Idiot.”

“Sae, is this how you see your sister? As an idiot, uncaring sister?” You asked him squarely still trying to put on your Oscar-worthy acting skills.

Alas, Sae did not respond to you but instead said, “I’ll let you know when I reach Spain.”

Sae entered his departure terminal leaving his pouty older sister.

Sighing, he looked back and gave you a little wave, after seeing you smile, he walked further in until you couldn’t see him.

Besides the two celebrities — a top idol and football prodigy — was their manager profusely bowing to each other to apologise for today's event.

Being a manager is not an easy job, especially when attending to the Itoshi siblings who do not have the best attitude.

Your manager turned to you, “Let’s get on with our schedule today shall we?”

“Did that act look like I was a very caring sister?”

Caught off guard by your question, Mr manager stuttered out a yes.

You let out a satisfied grin.

Job done !＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

Mr manager sighed.

–

Inside the car, you asked Mr Manager what your schedule was for today.

“A commercial shoot for this up-and-coming game you will be promoting, a meeting with our sponsors and…”

And everything else that came out of his mouth just drowned out. You checked your phone and saw no reply from Rin.

I wonder how Rin is feeling after crying so much that day…

“Also, someone called our studio just now. It was a German man — I’m not sure what he said but he did mention your name specifically, and he addressed you by your real name.”

Your ears perked up.

“A German man who knows my real name?”

In your life, you only personally know one German man and his name is Kaiser something.

You met him a few years back in Germany. You thought he was an extremely unintelligent person as he kept speaking to you in German even though you didn’t understand a single word that exited his mouth.

You remembered he kept saying “Süße” (*sweetie) and he would always kiss the back of your hand, which you thought was a German thing.

What a culture shock it was, people in foreign countries sure do have a very different way of greeting people compared to in Japan.

“So did that man mention his name?” You turned to Mr manager.

“Michael Kaiser. He also left his personal phone number it seems.”

“Give me that number.” You held your hand out.

“D-do you even know this man? He could be a stalker!”

“Maybe~”

“Maybe?!” Mr Manager raised his voice, then he paused for a moment, “Hold on, that name Michael Kaiser sounds real familiar…”

As Mr manager wreck his head about that, you thought back about this Kaiser person.

Back when you were having your world tour in Germany, you had some free time to explore the streets of Germany. So you snuck out of your hotel room, it was all fun and games until you lost your way in a foreign country you have never visited before.

As a young girl, stuck in an unfamiliar country, unfamiliar street, and unfamiliar language, you could only cry.

That was when you met Kaiser.

Ah! How embarrassing it was to cry in the middle of nowhere now that you think about it! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

So pathetic of me!

Both of you were pretty much strangers, you were surprised he remembered you and how he still managed to find you.

Oh! I really am a worldwide star! ↖(^ω^)↗

You giggled to yourself.

“Ah, I remember now!” Mr manager exclaimed, practically screaming into your ears.

You pushed Mr manager away and side-eyed him, “What is it?!”

“Michael Kaiser! He is a popular prodigy football player from Germany!”

Football player?

“Is being a football player a popular occupation these days?”

So this Kaiser person is a football player too? And a prodigy at that too? The world really has no shortage of prodigies huh?

Of all the football players you know, all of them are dubbed prodigies. That being said, you only know three football players — Sae, Rin and now, Kaiser.

“Mr manager, don’t tell me you are a football prodigy too?”

“Surely you jest, miss. I-if I was a prodigy,” he hesitated for a second then said in a hushed voice, “I wouldn’t be working for you.”

“What did you say?” You frowned at him.

“N-nothing!”

“As punishment for saying that, go call that Kaiser person and ask what business he has with me.”

“But I don’t speak German!”

“Go figure it out then!”

I shouldn’t have said that Mr manager berated himself.

“Oh, after my schedule, drive me to that restaurant I told you about,” you snickered, “I’m going on a ‘date’ with my youngest brother.”

—

“Did you wait long?”

You tapped your younger brother who seemed lost in thought.

“No… I just arrived too.”

He visibly looked disturbed by something and you knew exactly what it was.

“Are you still upset by your brother?”

Rin clenched his fist and swallowed down his frustration.

You placed your hand over his clenched fist and pacified him, “Don’t let it get to you alright? Sae is still going through puberty!”

A few days ago you booked (more like Mr manager booked) a private room in a fancy hotel restaurant, to treat Rin to something nice since you thought he looked pretty melancholic.

“Sister, puberty ends at the age of 16 for males.”

“Well, Sae will forever be a little boy to me! Anyways, order what you want! This sister of yours will be treating you so order up!”

You took a glimpse of the menu and salivate at the picture of the A5 Wagyu steak. Oh, how succulent and fatty it will be!

However, you reminded yourself that you have to watch your weight. As an idol, one cannot stress the importance of weight management.

You used all your 10 fingers to mentally count how much you’ve eaten today.

You grimly looked at the wagyu steak and fries and decided to go for a simple duck confit with a side of salad.

Rin glances toward you to see what you are ordering and saw you intensely glaring at the picture of a steak.

“I’ll get the duck confit with salad, what about you?” You close the menu bidding farewell to the steak.

“The wagyu steak for me,” Rin replied.

You signalled the waiter and placed the order.

After ordering, what followed was an air of silence and strong awkward energy.

After being an absent sister for god knows how many years, you’ve never really communicated much with this teenager Rin. You were only close to him when he was just a teeny tiny boy playing football with Sae. Even then, he was still closer to Sae.

Rin will only approach you whenever he was upset with Sae. He will then subsequently cry to you about his problems. Now he still cries to you as you recollect the day the U-20 match was over and Rin poured his heart out.

Not knowing how to proceed with this conversation or the lack thereof, you prompted him with a question, “Do you have a girlfriend?” (๑╹ω╹๑ )

Rin stared at you as if you were joking around, “I do not have time for that.”

“Is football the only thing on your mind?”

“Yes.”

“You are just like your brother.” You frowned at Rin and the other little one.

Rin’s resentment grew inside of him like a tumour as he is reminded of his brother.

Uh-Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.

You quickly tried to divert his attention.

“Ooohhhh look at this Rin! The photo for my photoshoot! Don’t I look absolutely gorgeous here?” You held up your phone and nervously giggled.

Rin eyed at your phone.

“It looks alright.”

“Just alright?”

Just like a game of ping pong, it’s your turn to seethe. In your list of top 100 things that annoy you, to have someone not acknowledge your beauty was number 97! It’s on the lowest scale because 9 out of 10 times, people will appreciate your beauty. The rest are just haters! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Humph! I’ll let that slide just because you are Rin-Rin.

You tried to think of a topic and were reminded of something.

“So what’s the deal with Blue Lock? Are you doing well there?”

Rin summarised his full experience in Blue Lock and he didn’t forget to sprinkle in his hate for this boy called Isagi and of course your other little brother.

Your little brother really needs to get some therapy with all these astonishing degrees of anger and hatred.

Then the food came interrupting Rin’s heated tirade on how much he hated Isagi and Sae.

You both had a hearty dinner and Rin kept shoving beef steak onto your plate despite you saying no, so you had no choice but to eat it.

It was a very conflicting experience having to eat something you love yet having calorie restrictions.

The life of an idol sure is tough.

After finishing dinner, both of you left the restaurant. Before leaving the hotel, you excused yourself to the toilet.

The toilet was so far you could’ve just walked half a marathon, not to mention it was secluded at the very corner of the hotel.

You sighed, at least I think I burned some calories.

“Süße!”

“!!!” You felt someone’s hand snaking around your waist. ⊙▽⊙

Thinking it's some creepy stalker of yours, you reflexively swatted the hand away. But the person in question was firm.

Perfume wafted through your nose as he presses his body against yours.

You let out a soft squeak at the contact. (〃ω〃)

Finally making eye contact with the man, you realise it was someone you know.

“Kaiser?” He smiled like a Cheshire Cat as you mention his name.

“Meine Leibe,” he brought you to a warm embrace, to which you similarly return his hug.

German’s greetings sure involve lots of skin contact, you thought to yourself as you felt Kaiser’s heat radiating through you.

He finally released you from the hug.

You quickly took notice of the rose tattoo that seemed to go from his neck down to his left arm which he didn’t have before when you met him in Germany.

You pointed to his tattoo to somewhat question him since you didn’t speak a lick of German.

He lifted his left hand for you to have a better look. You held onto his hand to inspect the tattoo but he had a better idea. He pushed his hands against your lips.

A soft shriek escaped you.

Your lipstick was sure to have stuck onto his hand. And more importantly, you have to reapply your lipstick!

What is this man thinking! ಠ╭╮ಠ

While you quickly reached out to your purse for your lipstick, you saw Kaiser bring his left hand to his own lips staining his lips in the process from your peripheral.

When you finished reapplying your lipstick, Kaiser was intently watching you.

You instinctively tried to rub off your lipstick from his lips but he was faster to grab your wrist and pulled you closer to him, so close that you were just a few inches away from his lips.

What’s wrong with Germans and their love for skin contact? Is this normal in Germany?

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long, meine liebe,” Kaiser said in German.

You drew a big fat question mark in your head. ( •́ ⍨ •̀)

What did he just say? And why does he look like he’s going in for a kiss?

True enough, Kaiser brought his lips to your lips. He invited his tongue through your parted lips tasting you for the very first time. He allowed his hands to yet again snake around your waist pulling you closer to him as if you weren’t already stuck to him.

What is this? This is a German greeting too right? ╭( ๐ _๐)╮

His other hand found its way to your chin. He tilted your chin slightly up to deepen the kiss.

As much as dancing your tongue with an old German friend was exciting, you couldn’t help but realise you were still in public. What if someone saw you?

You place both hands on Kaiser’s chest, slightly pushing him away and breaking the kiss.

“What’s wrong, Liebling?” His hands are still on your waist, trying to pull you back to him.

“Sister?”

You quickly detach yourself from Kaiser catching a glimpse of Rin from the corner.

You noticed that he was blushing. Oh, he definitely saw all that.

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)

“Rin!” You exclaimed feeling like you were caught in the middle of some illegal act.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?”

That’s unbelievable, never in your whole life have you had a so-called “boyfriend”. What is Rin on to make him believe that?

“Then, why were you kiss-”

You promptly interrupted Rin from his imagination, “This is my friend, Kaiser!”

You pointed over to Kaiser, and he took the opportunity to catch your hand into his grip and ultimately hold your hand.

“-just a friend,” you tried explaining it to Rin. (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Rin, however, looked over at his sister and the blonde-with-blue-streaks-haired man who is almost as tall as Sae, who was just a second ago kissing so intimately and now holding hands like a couple would behave.

Hard to believe they are not a couple; what kind of friends eat out each other's face.

Kaiser? Rin ruminates on that name.

Rin knows a Kaiser who looks just exactly like him.

“Michael Kaiser,” Rin carefully enunciates his name, which causes the man himself to grin at him.

“Rin-Rin, you know him?”

“Prodigy player and also a member of the New Generation World XI,” said Rin glaring at Kaiser. (⩺_⩹)

In response, Kaiser didn’t say a word but just responded with the usual smug grin.

“What? When did you learn German, Rin-Rin?”

“What’s your relationship with my sister?” Rin continued to question Kaiser.

Kaiser brought your hand to his lips and gave it a gentle peck, “what do you think, Itoshi Rin?”

“You know me?”

“The little brother of Japan's football prodigy, Itoshi Sae, and you who will always live in his shadows as a nobody.” Kaiser snickered at Rin.

Raw anger shot through him. He yet again clenched his hand into a tight fist, seething with anger. Every word from him stung him.

Unsure of where this conversation is leading, you stared in confusion. That was until you saw Rin sudden change in mood.

What had made the conversation turn so sour for Rin?

You were dumb but your EQ was not that severe to not see that Rin was somehow at the losing end of the conversation.

You let go of Kaiser’s hand and ran to your little brother.

“What’s wrong?”

You saw the dark, gravel look on him almost as if he was about to break someone’s joint.

Placing a hand over his back and patting him just as you did when he was younger, you guided him down the hotel’s hallway towards the exit.

“Let’s go home.”

“Meine leibe?”

He received no response from you, instead he only saw your retreating figure.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

< you have reached the end! thank you for reading babes! (〃∀〃)ゞ I really appreciate all the love you are giving to this ongoing series! look forward to more spine-crawling fluff! ʅ（´◔౪◔）ʃ *evil laugh* the harem begins now>

Part 3

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cthulhubert · 5 months

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Reading the original Vampire Hunter D novels was a very fascinating experience that I can't actually recommend to anyone.

In most ways, they're very straight-forward pulpy adventure stories. Nothing about the plots or dialogue are compelling. The translation is competent at least.

But the world building is fascinating, rife with fun little details.It's like the author, Hideyuki Kikuchi thought of some off the wall stuff and threw it in for aesthetics, but then comes up with background to explains it, and then actually builds on that explanation, rather than leave it as a fig leaf.

The books are set post post post apocalypse. Humanity nearly wiped themselves out in a nuclear war, so the vampires and other creatures of the night came out of hiding and ruled for ten thousand years... and then started slowly but steadily declining. No longer strong enough to have total control over the world, but more than powerful enough to topple humanity's attempts to organize.

Humanity is in this weird pseudo-medieval state except they also have stuff like cyber-horses. Why? Because that's how the Aristocracy (the v-word is gauche) liked it!

Humanity has been genetically engineered with psychological blocks, such that if they ever learn about the vampires' great weaknesses (other than the sun: garlic, crosses, holy water) they'll immediately forget them!

It's ostensibly "pure sci-fi" because there's no magic. The story is clear about this. Vampires just have novel biology. That gives them telekinesis. (And hemokinesis too. I've always thought that should be a fundamental vampire ability. It's how they slurp every last drop of blood out of a human without needing to like suspend the body and let them bleed out. They also soak cloaks with the blood of virgins over the course of decades and end up with one they can control, to turn into shield or sword.)

D is your classic pulp-y OP protagonist (I compare him in my mind to Doc Savage). Made from the gametes of the Aristocracy's greatest scientist and genetic engineer (whose name also starts with D, wink wink nudge nudge), and his lover: humanity's greatest psychic. He was implanted with a parasite engineered to not take over his body and be helpful instead. He inherited an indestructible sword crafted by the greatest swordsmith who ever lived. He's equipped with a supercomputer in a pendent that can auto-hack most technological locks and defenses. He uses the same cyber-horses as everyone else, but because of his "ability to commune with their inner natures" can wring double performance out of them.

What started me thinking about this is the dhampir like protagonist of yet another forgettable Isekai story (actually, this was a "Returner" manhwa, a genre much more popular in Korea now, which involves people reincarnating back from isekai worlds, or traveling back in time, etc). This guy, like the protagonists of many stories, is so overpowered he is a geopolitical super-power embodied in a single person. That always takes me out of the story, because I can only think about how much responsibility that would entail in my mind, and these guys just use it to fuck around.

#words #original #vampire hunter d #admittedly most of the 'returner' genre just has the character as like pointman against an existential threat #if I got to live into the utopian future where my free time is spent fucking around making/running/playing in virtual worlds #d is about the ideal power level for my personal satisfaction #every now and then the urge to ramble seizes hold of me; most of the time I just drop it in a text file but I felt like sharing this one

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skagheart · 5 months

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Born to Die

hey, so, basically, i was writing this fanfiction called born to die based upon kurt cobain and an original character called nirvana lacey anhedönia and, well, i never finished it and i think i’ve lost the inspiration to. but, i still want it to see the light of day because i think it’s beautiful (sort of). so, here we are.

Gibson Girl.

1480 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ You wanna… ]

Lovelace.

That’s what I’m fucking carving into my arm. With that oh-so-American size of the knife, the cut was deep and my handwriting as unhinged as it could be, probably and possibly worse than the cruel (upon me!) variety of forms it takes; like it was in my journal (I’ve always adored the copulation of the words probably and possibly as it tends so well to my seeming lack of sincerity and existential confusion), but worse, worse. Tingling all over I was in not an aroused, sexual way—but in the way it tingles when the high becomes scary, when the swirly faces start to scratch at you and when your belly feels scarily pregnant (everyone whom I know wants children; I wonder, am I sociopathic or a prophetess? Probably both, they’re primarily synonymous anyway). I knew so damnéd well I was addicted to this shit, the little, translucent, hallucinatory blotters (I prefer ’em trippy on both the outside and in, and pink; but I’m an addict! I’ll take whatever anyways) I get by shaking my ass to the guy whose name I do not wish to have my married brain clouded with. He still cut into my head like the knife that was working with all it’s effort and my inputs carving that v on my plump, ripe forearm. I was addicted as fuck; and I fucking loved it. At the very fucking least, I was pumping out poems like a heroine of the fifties. It’s what it was: the fifties had Sylvia Plath and the eighties had me. Downright iconic. The blood by now—I felt like a lamb, but I knew I was the dragon—was flooding my lap on which that forearm of mine was settled. I apologise if my writing, grammer, thoughts, anything else is fucked up in this or don’t make sense—I’m drugged up into Cloud Nineteen (ten blotters, two packs of Marlboro Reds over this evening).

I know I sound fucking insane and I probably am, and I treat myself to pain Virgin Mary couldn’t have dreamt off—but, I promise I’m not mean. Just a hard, excessive exterior and a tight, eager posterior in this dollhood of mine. Does that even make sense…? I don’t fucking know shit… “Ah, fuck…” I whispered with the most disappointing one I could muster when I fucked up the second l of Lovelace.

Lovelace, Lovelace… Great, I have to recall him.

The fucker who got me into this.

Norwegian trucker in India who was friends with my greaser pa, Norman Anhedönia, called Gibson Lovelace. The chap had forty years worth of oxygen wasted in his shallow breathing (he always breathed shallow, even when he came; I had noticed), a nine-incher monster of a dick, pedophilia, a drunkard wife and an obsession with me. I’d always been what Nabokovian terms would term nymphet, and I do say I’m split on it. I’m a shit daughter and a demon child, or am I? Maybe I’m just depressed and suicidal, or I’m fucking divine and the reincarnation of Eve meant to meet her Adam through a senseless act of violence upon myself (I didn’t know at the time, but I was fucking foreshadowing; go me.). Every girl needs a senseless act of violence properly upon herself but rarely upon the other to discover her one and only cult leader.

Anywho, Gibson led me into his truck away from my father who was too busy cleaning his shades listening to Elvis on the records: January of ’77, I was seven going to turn eight in the November of that year. He fucked me raw, smashed my head so hard into the steering wheel that I bled (I was questioning too much), kissed my cuts and made me promise I wouldn’t pick up a knife again but didn’t do shit about what I actually felt; he told me to stick my tongue out and placed this thin translucent sheet of pink from a little booklet he kept in his glovebox. And I decided that I loved it. I’m at fault, I’m at fault… Fuck Waheguru.

I’m finished. I squeezed my arm as hard as I could, the blood spraying over the marble floor (I had tucked the rug away; I can’t let Mumma see). My incisors with the utmost force to keep my vocal chords at bay dug into my chapped bottom lip and drew blood there too. It trickled down to my chin and came to nirvana at my lap resting amongst the other red molecules; it left a ferric taste on the tip of my tongue, slightly bitter and quite sweet. Bittersweet. Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood… Blood, everywhere. Gibson would’ve rubbed it all over my nipples and told me to lick it up like it was his sperm all over my asscheeks or, well, just cheeks. I did have quite big tits for an almost twelve-year-old, I must admit… I’ve always had more estrogen and my estrogen was also more sensitive: susceptible. Susceptible to manipulation, fuckery, religion, what not… Finally, I could fucking feel something except for the stimuli of my g-spot and the irritation in my nostrils that still blossomed when I chainsmoked indoors or that itching feeling in me when I go too much time without my LSD. I have this delusion that I only pump men good or pump out good stuff when I’m pumped on those little squares: He said that LSD would be good for me when I told him that I write; I’ve been pumpin’ poetry for my baby ever since. I hate children, and I sincerely wish that all babies die alongside their parents and the doctors and the nurses and the medical’s parents and me…

My disorders kicked in (Borderline Personality Disorder, majorly untreated) and I fucking panicked. After so much shit, I fucking panicked. Panicked. Jumping up almost to slam my head to the sink I was cutting up like ham under, I had to hold onto the sink to make myself stand actually. I slowly experienced my hand creep up to switch on the faucet (like Gibby did to the faucet in my eyes everytime he crossed my neurocircuitry) and my other arm (I’m right-handed) creep to wash the blood from Lovelace off. Thankfully, I had a few bottles of peroxide, a pack of Reds, a babydoll dress all set up, razor and men’s shaving cream, my skincare, makeup—all of that set up, and the shower prepped as well. Today, I was to die.

The same year as Gibson’s arrival to me, I spiralled and ended up flinging my curvy body down the roof of some pretentious hotel in Seattle. I didn’t die, unfortunately. Then, well, I was transferred to a crazy people place for four years until I got out in March of ’81 (this year!) equally, if not more, fucked up. I had glowed so much surrounded by my little hellspawns, my creatures... My paradise is dying in the arms of nobody. But, I couldn’t care when the blotters kicked in and helped my cerebrum in distorting so fucking shittily my face into some eldritch horror that passed the likes of werewolves mid-transformation and golems. I giggled manically at the twistings of my eyes into the hair and my ears into halo, my mouth stretched through the giggle was transmuted to the petrified image of a dog and a lady and what fucking not. Oh, I need my pen… Pen, pen, pen, pen,... pen!

The lad

I tried to write into the journal page I had kept open on the small settee of my bathroom that I had also made sure to drip some of my essence onto (not like that, pervs; the blood, I’m saying) but my mouth wouldn’t co-operate with my cerebellum or my cerebrum. The giggles just wouldn’t stop and they just got more and more distorted like guitars fitted into amps and amps and shredding. I fell back on the ground, it cushioned by my ass, and held my head in my arms, shaking my head as if to curate outside of my all the fogginess and to shake out of my trip. I wanted to write, write! Not whatever the fuck this was. My eyes were squeezed so hard, I was crying. And, I couldn’t fucking stop laughing like a shitshow.

“Oh, God, stop, stop, stop, just fucking stop…!” Hadn’t even realised I was sobbing but in that moment that epiphany hit me like a freight train (whatever the fuck a freight train is; I just picked up on the writing tool from whatever I read using this). My arm was still bleeding, smearing blood over my cheeks; my lip was still cut from my teeth, bleeding the smaller bits too; I was shaking like a fucking banyan leaf in the rainstorms of Wash.

• • •

Strangers.

5010 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love ]

Even the isolation, deprave, and mesophilia of our fucked-up, Lacey, crazies hospital was better than this drenched, little town. What was better than any of those two fucking disasters, though, was my stance on the railway tracks. Sittin’ there like teke-teke, waitin’ for my gorgeous guts to be smashed over, destroyed, violated, clawed out by the grinders of the train. I’d never seen starry nights—the ladies at Lacey would never have enough testicles to let me watch a shooting star and hope that it crash into me, the fuckin’ meteorite. My years at Cawnpore already were quite less in number, and it eternally was too polluted for us to see something more than the dhruv star and a few other killers; I’d never seen starry nights. According to this astronomical magazine I picked up while the nurses took us out to the local stores of Lacey for us teenage girls to detoxify our battlefields for minds, today was a meteor shower and I was thoroughly intrigued by blazing space rocks in the skies, so I bluffed and fucked my way out of the hospital. My egg and sperm donors did not believe for a major nanosecond that I was cured. At two years of pained age, I was standing in the middle of the gray-like-me roads, conscious of the act; at four, I burnt my pierced earlobe on purpose, using the steam-fuelled iron to; at six, any blade I pranced upon would find it’s metallic way to scent the room in the aroma of my equally metally blood, I only wished for one to kiss those marks and draw about them, to be what the lyre was to Apollo; at eight, this curvy brain of mine finally snapped into her hemispheres and told me to fling my curvy body down the highest story of our hotel. At eight, my suppliers abandoned their Catholic mistake of a dolly into a mental hospital in my Americana birthplace, Lacey.

There, I morphed myself like the blesséd Phoenix, curse, profanity I am into The Mother. Mother Lace, Mother Nirvana, Messiah of thee, and the literary combo of Three. One of the only times I shall ever cherish are my years with those six girls… My girls: my loves, only ones who would ever succeed in enveloping me with so much heat that the outward exterior, the exoskeleton of middle fingers and catty hisses, melts into a puddle of rot beneath me and the inner delicacy of my wretched fragility and mortality is on display for all those mental fuckers to eat.

Needless to say…, I missed my bundle of little women, my packets of compressed, oppressed joy. So, I lay there longing with my arms stretched onward craving hiraeth in the Heavens—now that I look back, it never was hiraeth. I knew exactly what my home was: the browned mental hospital where I spent four formative years of my Jim Morrison's life in. I longed for the hug of my collected daughters, their soft digits brushing my hair as they softly inquired escape from the hellhole I promised to save them from. My girls... I loved them, like the mother they never received. I had promised, I had promised… I was a betrayer. What mother to those girls…

On instinct I experienced my hands reach to the crown of my head, relief coursing through my blood the moment a thorn stung me. Their entity had crafted for me a crown of thorns to relish me as their Lady and Saviour. I did feel blood seep from the pinch, but I stuck my finger between my lips and thrashed my tongue around, gazing at the dying glows of the starry night.

I pretended to be Jesus.

I am Judas, or am I?

I don’t even know what I’m writing. You’re hallucinating while interpreting strange symbols written left-to-right in lead and antimony compounds upon thin, delicate tablet-like structures made of tree sap, so I guess we two are never too far apart in our crazy.

Well, to them (my girls: Laine Jean Ray, Bonita Ana Dios, Aurora May-Belle Long, Theresa Midge Check, Verbena de Baïa Voisin, Margaret Sarah Check), I still remain Yeshua. Yet, I feel a wolf in lamb’s skin as myself; a panther in the throes of the night sky that I stare emptily, tearily, upon. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake (translation: you people are fucking dumb).

In my convulsing tubule of thoughts birthed by my cerebral quality, I failed in my life to notice movement, possibly a metre from me. I was laid over the railway track like a corpse, eyes empty yet body warm for no reason at all. It truly seems bizarre how the movement noticed me neither—maybe dissolved so much in the grief were they that they were as heady as me, as crazy as I! Trapped inside the fever dream of their own thoughts, vowed to never spit it out, bit tongues and summertimes spent in clawing bedsheets and clamping hands over the own lips so as to refrain from the awareness that might spread. That might say…: I am iron. I am usable, extremely so. Exploit me, as if you have not already. Though, I might have not warneth thou… I rot as vigorously as I am used, keep me out in the world and I will break down and become ash of myself. In the velvet night, a puff of air as a sigh crawled out of me, liquid dripping down the corneas of I, ruining not the night (this was to be, I planned to die today for fuck’s sake) but my precious mascara and eyeliner. Oh, how I worked on that lining to accentuate my inherited, unwanted, auto-appreciated felinity. I’d be the prettiest girl in the morgue.

Someday you will ache like I ache.

Anyhow, the shower from the atmosphere had concluded a few minutes prior. And, well, finally, the train I was waiting for to scramble and crumble my guts into nothing but wasted potential, like I already was, had arrived… Only, it arrived wrong. It ran over the steel beside me, beside us (counting in the movement I am). A severe monsoon bummer filled my chest, the void in my heart had been concealed tightly and packed with Lyssa, Eris, what not. I craved to screech at the tyrant Father for his sin, for his fucking disruptive mercy on me—I did not want mercy! I needed death to fuck me like his personal, unpaid, loyal servant-girl; I needed it violent! So, as soon as all registered in my voluminous cerebrum, I recoiled in my pose, resorting to the protection of a foetal position as I screamed out my sobs and muffled them by staining my shaved thighs with my lipstick and drool smelling of minty chew-gum that I chewed last minute, tears of brown-black from my mascara and liner, hitting my head against my knees and punching the bloody rails that I was once moonbathing over until I experienced my knuckles burn and bruise, actual slivers of blood peek through the skin. I continued then too, but was too passionate in my quiet wailing to keep up the aggression.

And, thence, I swiped my tears with my bleeding knuckles, unrealising in my little girl’s misery of the fact, and smeared blood over my eyes and mascara over my blood. By some distance, I could hear some twigs crunching, maybe it was the movement I hadn’t noticed beforehand. When I did notice in that current moment, fear struck my gut like Cupid’s arrow when I had seen Priscilla Presley for the first time in forever. Naturally, a response occurred within the fatty mass of electric muscle in my head and I recoiled within myself, burying my face in my knees that I had pulled to my tits, only my eyes blinking up like a defensing cat—if I had been a cat, my pupils would have shrunken to that reptilian, creepy glare. I saw that the thing was lighting a cigarette, my cravings relit alongside (the appearance of the thing was half-revealed in the dim spark).

Stupidly as I ever could be, I murmured from my coil, “Do you have a light?” However softly I did speak, the boy did hear because it was the death of the night in wherever we were, the railroad was as quiet as could be with the crickets around chirping and inaudible bats may or may not be sauntering about. Dim moonlight that I somedays worshipped (as a witch, I did) proved herself, and I saw him. The first predicament was that he’s cute: blond, ice eyes, hopeless swagger, shaky legs. He paused himself in his trek, and slowly but mildly clumsily, turned to see my form. Perhaps cold moonlight proved her importance to hallucinatory pages of dead sap’s inkéd words of feel-good love. Wow, fuck, I went overboard on there. So, he scrutinised me for a moment, squinting to gaze at me carefully.

I’ll never forget what came out of my future husband’s mouth the first time he spoke a single thing to me…: You look very pretty when you’re crying; tears suit you. I don’t think that I can emphasise the moan that was nearly to escape me at that very moment, it was a shockwave of whatever down my spine to my ladyness. My knees dropped to become flat, just legs, and I did acknowledge the gashes in my doll heart bleeding so vigorously, it matched my swallowed drool.

“You don’t mean that, you’re drunk.”

His honeyed voice, sort of scratchy as I observed he was pubescent and hormonal in his blue jeans, white striped shirt—walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn!—and black-y jacket he kept open, pushed me to experience the yayo-type, giggly joy of his chuckle, he shook his head in amuséd denial of his drunkenness. He was poetic, he had a slur, he had his thin lips wrapped around a cigarette—shit, I needed them wrapped around mine… And, I loved it. Why the fuck was I enamoured? “You’re a hypocrite,” He paused for a moment, maintaining that smile. Two distinct holes, punctures in muscle, were noticed by thee truly, myself, at that very moment; I felt my ribcaged heart palpitate. “You’re bawling your eyes out here like Virgin Mary.”

“Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful.” The moan that was slowly and gradually, steadily and irresistibly, mountaineering up my throat finally escaped in the form of this: *Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful*. Which, I did mean—how could I not mean *this*? I’m not Lisa Rowe, you buzz (although I wish to be—have you not read the sheer charisma produced from the description Kaysen emits of her? She was definitely the prettiest girl in the morgue!).

Hands of his extended to mine, both, and I took them, shakingly wobbling from my psych-out. I felt drunk. As terror-inducin’ it seems, drugs had exhilarated me, no cock of a man who had money this nymphet had onlooked had been left out, I was such a La Lolita for my crazy desires—but I had never had a swig before. Smelling the booze off my falling, twisted guy as he pulled me up from my literal and mental death—I only knew that my heart was hitting at my sinews, she felt a depraved wanderlust. Some wanderlust it was to, like a man in a Prime Minister pose, mark that free, angel Earth mine with maybe a flag (a tattoo) or a hole (a lovebite), something, somewhat. I held onto his shoulders for both metaphorical and literal support, he held onto the curve of the lower back I possessed, though the fabric of his jackie didn’t benefit friction and he kept slipping his arm off accidentally because, one, he adorned too much weight on; two, the fabircs intermingled like our forms, the cheap satin and whatever the fuck his jacket was made of. “Why am I a hypocrite, though?” I finally asked this little blond dude what had been pestering me (I am not to blame for this worthy-of-disdain obsessiveness, I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am Cool Girl: I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive) for how millennium long. His ocean eyes matched mine for a moment, and he seemed to think through for a momento before he permitted the giggle of a hyena break out of him: Because you’re pretty when you cry, and I’m not.

“Yes, you are.” No hesitation was laced through me, none of that unaware uncertainty that I usually experienced leaking through my tune when I comforted one of my girls—my girls...—and instead was there an ignorant stubbornness. I was always stubborn, but what the fuck? I, having registered in my still plush cerebrum that my crown of thorns (gifted to me by Laine specifically, although all the girls worked on it) had fallen like my Lucifer when I had risen, thence I bent to grab my status, injuring my already injured hand thus further as the thorns pierced and pricked into my skin. And, I didn’t even cry…

He recoiled almost physically at my olden compliment (remember the first dialogue of the previous paragraphed rambling?) and I was due a breakdown of my psyche in that very singular fraction of a minute when my man suddenly perked up, “I only have this cig,”, changing the subject. Yahweh, my knuckles burnt. I ohed a tiny bit, and chuckled, extending one of my quivering, weak limbs and bending to wrap my lipstickéd lips on the ass of that cigarette, same one he took a drag from not fifteen seconds ago. His Atlantic eyes widened for a twiddling momentous, and, possibly and probably in drunken stupor and marijuana heights of his death wish, he giggled—I physically felt my pupils dilate, what the fuck? Maybe it was the nicotine, maybe it was the aftershocks of my tiny-teeny mental breakdown on the rail, maybe it was hisself… Damn, I think I understood Grant so well in that miniscule moment: Heaven is a place on Earth with you.

The world was built for two.

Delusional, I was convinced that it was us two the moment he grabbed the cigarette from me for his chance, and he examined the matte, messy mark of my lip stamped on it.

With the dumbest smile he could muster in my damnéd opinion, this little, blond, territorial, underdeveloped man adjusted his lips on the exact place I had left my shine, suckling it like it was some part of me. He knew what he was doing, I could pluck it from the glitter in his pretty orbs that told me shit he’d never be able to spit out in our tragic, magic relationship of some thirteen years. We kissed in death like we kissed in that moment, he blew smoke into my mouth and I giggled, almost extracting the alcohol of his from the roof of his mouth as my tongue felt her way around. We parted for perhaps, well, a second (I don’t remember the details, I’m writing this after our wedding sex, 1988. We’re in our flight back to Olympia from Honolulu, and he’s sleeping on my tits), and rejoint as I adjusted the angle to kiss-fuck this virginal Cherub better. “Darling, is this your first?”, he nodded, responsive—to be frank, that was adorable...! I’m pretty sure I squeaked out of sheer kiddy excitement, squeezing the sides of his face (cheeks). My grip migrated to around his neck, form bent for he was teenier than I. I didn’t even know his name and we were kissing in the blue dark…

Parting, I only gazed into his oceanic gaze and breathlessly giggled, “Oh, wow, fuck,... That was…, yeah.” A grand total of seven partners (three females, four males) I had engaged in before this merman, and I had never felt myself stolen of breathe ever in my existence after a mere kiss. Possibly was it the intoxication, the nicotine fucking over my senses so that my taste buds tickled with the enriching experience of his glazed cavern, but was it not thrilling, oh Mary! I had enchanted outward the sweetest giggle, and he in his still stupor snuggled his head inside the curve of my shoulder and chest; he was only that much tall. I was not lanky in any aspect, neither I am still—on the flipside, truth is that my mother repeatedly insisted upon me to not drown in my head and force her to onlook, rather to go outside, soak some tan (I am racially brown, thence I don’t require a tan) and run some. I decline profusely, tangling in blankets again and writing what, if discovered, would have positively filed me into the South Sound Behavioral Hospital yet again for a term not of four years now but of God-knows-how-long.

Eventually, I figured: some other day, this nymph may or may not have only prolonged my life now, and I told myself it. By the railway roads were grasses uncared for (like most daughters were; the human was their mother and the stain’d, tall grasses were the lost), we decided unconsciously to sit by those and talk the dimlight of the night off the clouds, to dawn we conversed. As unbelievable as it may sound considering the turbulence not even Athena might have dreamt of that had plagued the twisty courses of my lifetime, I had not sipped upon the liver eater yet: alcohol! With my newfound darling, that was precisely what I did.

We were dwelling inside uncanny synchronisation with our acts: we looked around at the same time, fixated on the same piece of cement, reached to gasp one another’s hands the same moment. I didn’t flinch, neither did the blond darling. Which..., was quite, well, it was especially choking as I... Usually froze at contact of the physique from someone whom I loved. Around this time, with my drink-induced lover, it felt good.

We curled up by grass, against a gray boulder-like structure, perhaps a part of a rotten or demolished building of some sort, debris. There, I suckled upon the lengthy cancerstick and inquired like an owl: “Why were you here, anyway?” In a casual tone I did, as if it was something so normal that I was nonchalant. “Oh, y’know, to kill myself.” The answer delivered by this sweetness would dwelling in me a day or so afterward (take that very literally) was just as nonchalant, confirming the suspicion conjured by my despaired subconscious that he was just as heady as me, as crazy as me, someone who would rot along me like iron all the while fearing the rot, hiding from something murmuring within thyself and teetering about; aura as a nymphic call and melancholia as the default ring of the mood. GOD is a teenaged girl of grunge and glitter, and I am a doll (soulless, empty, pretty with no matter on the inside yet pretty from the back—it matched!).

“No, no, like, why?” I repeated with an accentuated tone and my regular gestures of hand and eye, “The reason you wanted to kill yourself. I don’t judge, promise.” I shrugged, chuckling a bit as I passed the miniature cancer to him for a drag. “Clearly.” He chuckled too, widening his eyes momentarily to allude to my appearance; as I remember it, that elicited out from me a little giggle. I mean, it was the factual; darling, not lying. A girl; a girl dressed in a pearly babydoll dress with lacy tights (opaque white-like, frilled, a bow on top of each, knee-high) and no footwear with mascara smeared down her face from a clear breakdown of her battlefield for mind, manic brown eyes with a grape-coloured lipstick on pouty heart-shaped lips, blood and dirt also staining her optic area due to her bleeding knuckles from which she punched the steel of the rails because the train did not run over her? Paired alongside the fresh wounds on display littered across that fatty arm of hers? Oh, she was a crazy chick—and I could tell that this little guy loved it. He loved my mania, he loved my blood, he loved my crazy, he loved everything that I loved about myself. Maybe it was his alcohol that urged him this way, but I loved him for he loved what he saw.

But is she pretty on the inside?

“Well,” I spaced back in with the thrill of his voice curling the air around us; I wish we were plunged into steel. Sound travels best in something like steel… What would his voice be in steel? The thought messaged down my spine a shiver. “’s mostly everything about my life. Wouldn’t say I’m addicted, but all I do these days is mope and get high, or drink. I’ve been this since last month. Last year, I saw this… This dead boy who hung himself in the woods. That really affected me, I think; I’ve got suicide genes.” He paused a bit, sighing as he was passed the smokestick again. I puckered up a bit and drew closer to his pretty face, rounding my lips out and pushing out a ring of cigarette smoke. On impulse, he stuck nose through the centre of the dissipating smoke ring which drew from me another giggle—he was just like me! I did that too! I’d never thought someone else would…? What the fuck is going on?

Taking a drag, he then resuméd: “My parents are divorced… I’m really embarrassed of that.” He added a bit hesitantly, I could gauge that he still felt the shame of it all; which perplexed me. A divorce is shameful? How so? It’s a fucking life decision… But, that’s okay because this little one was clearly less mature and emotionally developed than I, although that amount still was remarkable considering his physique and my presumé of his age (which I thought to be elder to me, but still not too much so). “Why?”

“I want my real family back. My dad promised me he wouldn’t remarry, and he fucking did; to a bitch nonetheless. I hate her and her children are so… Phoney…!” Humming at his hurt words, I was analysing him: eyes gliding over the pasty, smooth contours of his vanilla face; staring into the trench of his pupils surrounded by his ocean eyes as he passed back the almost dead cigarette to me. The guard he wore over his exterior again was forming as he read that I was reading him without contempt (he thought I was feeling that, but I was simply analysing him emotionlessly—as if he was a labrat and I was dissecting him to figure out the following: what the fuck is this little shit?). But, I got him before he leaned away or apologised: Don’t worry, go on. Say it. I hate my cousins too. He relaxed yet again, I could see his shoulders come down and he leaned into me again,. Our heads were almost leaning against each other’s, breathes intermixing with each intake and out. “Go on.” I repeated, tapping his knee to accentuate my point.

He snapped out of whatever daze (he was reading me too, perhaps; mentally dissecting my Barbie body too, perhaps) and his hand came to clasp mine. I bit back a giggle and a smile at the contact, he did notice the corner of my lips tilt upward so he took that as a positive for further lacing of his fingers with mine. I, now a bit assured in myself, squeezed his hand and nudged him again: go on.

“Right,” He chuckled, “So, well, I just feel… Alien. You know, when I was little, I used to look at the stars,” He pointed briefly to the stars that were shining above the both of us, “And imagine my real family because I just felt like I wasn’t from here, like I was from another planet. I think I like that feeling, I was homesick for a place that didn’t even exist. And, to be honest, you’re the only other alien I’ve met.” That made me giggle after I muttered hiraeth at the sentence spoken second to the last. I found in my nicotined mindscape that this… Theory, was almost verbatim of a theory I myself had gardened in my meadow for mind. “Y’know…! I felt like that too, still do actually. I just used different terms for it. I called whatever the fuck our species are Earth Angels, angels on Earth. I read somewhere once that a person with scars of cuts on their arms was called an angel by a kid, and I think I really internalised… That.”

He chuckled, “Your mind is divine, Pretty. Yeah, I think my family is also a reason in why… I want to kill myself, y’know?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love them so much so I do what they want and they hate me for every speck of originality; I don’t know if it’s my mental disorders or it’s my hormones, but every small inconvenience makes me wanna kill myself. I’m also a hater! I hate everything and I do nothing to change it which, admittedly, makes me an arsehole—but, fuck it.” We both had laughter crawling up our throats and I could tell it wasn’t actual laughter. Oh, no. It was mania, laughing not because it threatened to spill; laughing because you had nothing else to do. Like crazy people (I do think that I am insane, in some way, shape or form. But, I also think that I’m supersane. Who fucking knows? I think a lot, don’t I?).

The cigarette had gone out by now, I think I had stubbed it out by pressing to the moist ground after he had truly started opening the shells of himself, not wishing to be distracted by drugs when I had the most addictive and healthy sedative offering his lifestory to a little shit like me. “Well, what’s it for you? I haven’t ever seen… You around…” He slurred out as we jumped down from our maniacal, little, episodic bursts of sacrilege or insanity… Well, are they not synonyms?

“Ah, so, I just moved here about a… Maybe a few days ago? I think a week or so. I moved from Lacey, though I’m actually Indian. Well… It’s a fucked-up fairytale, really. My whole ancestry and family is the following: sexist, racist, extremist to Sikhism, religious, doomed, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, very, very Indian. It’s only my grandmother who acknowledges the sexism floating between our family; she dreamt high and was ambition incarnate but her marriage to this horrible fucking man led her to be so oppressed she couldn't speak a word of English without being thoroughly taunted for it.” His face clearly contorted into a gnarly grimace, and I felt my nose start to itch and burn again remembering all this up… Never had I ever trauma-puked this well or been so comfortable vomiting it out to someone I did not know.

“’s just… Fuckin’ Hell. I can’t translate it into words, I can only feel.” Shaking my head in a paternal sort of disappointment (no matter how much I despise the fact, I am my father’s daughter; his copy of carbon) at my inability, I felt myself pulled in again… How? How was he doing this shit? Being so fucking kind? It made me anxious, admittedly. Why was he so kind? What did the fucker want?

I’m being too cynical. I wanted to cry; instead I accepted his tentative comfort and shoved my face into the nook of his neck, breathing down it like a vampire in the night. I had the purely feminine, feline urge to wrap myself around him like Sarin and never let go to slowly dissolve into him even if maggots eat us out. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…? For a few minutes I think, we stayed in that exact position, in a sort of silence that neutered my turmoil. His arms were gel onto my wounds, and I, terrified, readily crept in like the Dutch beetle on the elm.

“Don’t.” I eventually muttered out into the tender, pale, untouched flesh of temptation on his neck; I don’t know why I did it, don’t decipher or discover the root at all. What is a girl to do when offered love on a silver spoon when she only possesses a forked tongue of venom caused from licking slivers of love off a parental knife? I was a black, not racially but spiritually. I was corrupt, disgust, free-use trash for swollen cocks with zero semblance of any soul and only a pretty body. It’s my pretty power which is my ugly. I am disgusting… I sometimes feel the scorching need to cleanse myself, to face redemption, to hurry to salvation; and other days I revel in the hellfire of lust that would surround me once I am liberated of this uséd body.

#💌.docx #kurdt #kurt cobain #kurt donald cobain #kurt cobain x reader #kurt d cobain #kdc #80s aesthetic #70s 80s 90s #washington state #washington dc #kurdt kobain

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mykneeshurt · 2 years

Text

Infiltration part 5

Keegan x F!reader

I can’t lie this isn’t even enemies to lovers anymore. I don’t know what this is lmfao, just enjoy the ride I guess. Thank you to @taurus-ted for being my hype man 4eva

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, all the smut, p in v, spit play, praise kink, voyuerism, masturbation, breath play, dom/sub theme, sub keegan. The reader is not a good person in this

‘Hope it was worth it’ Claude huffed as he sat at your desk, disgust evident in his features. Scowling at him you tapped at your keyboard ‘it was actually’ you hummed. Slowly you turned your laptop to face him, an audio programme already running. Turning up the speaker muffled voices could be heard. Realisation spread over Claude’s face at what you’d managed to pull off.

You’d bugged the Ghosts.

‘Still think my little indulgence wasn’t worth it?’ You smirked as you listened in on their conversation.

‘You fucked her didn’t you?!’ It was Merrick, clearly not impressed by Keegan’s actions. ‘I can fuckin smell her on you. Fuck were you thinking?!’ He was furious, which only turned your smirk into a smile. ‘Did you even get any names?’

Claude shot a glance towards you, a flash of disbelief. ‘Relax Claude I didn’t say shit.’ You motioned for him to continue listening.

‘Yeah, she gave me names. All of em. Said she’d give me more when I go back.’

‘When you go back?! Keegan. She’s got you round her fucking finger. Goddamn it. How do we even know these are real?’

That’s when you shot your own look over to Claude, who relaxed at the implied betrayal. Flexing your brows you smiled, ‘that’ll teach you for underestimating me. Need to lure them in’ you said as you mimed reeling in a fish.

Pulling up a satellite image of the surrounding area you zoned in on the old mill. ‘We know this is where they’re hiding. For all Keegan knows, I’m upholding my end of the bargain and keeping a truce. But …’ you chewed on your lip. ‘I want them. I want Elias. He’s the final piece of the puzzle that’s stopping us from taking control. Wait for Keegan to come here, take them then.’

Claude rose from the chair, ‘I’ll get my team on it. We’ll get em.’

———

Keegan entered your office once more, standing to attention in front of your desk. Floorboards creaking under his weight. Biting your thumb you smiled up at the Sargent before you. ‘You get more handsome every time I see you’ you cooed softly. He huffed as he strained against the bonds which encased his wrists, ‘this really necessary?’

Closing the gap between you, you placed both your hands on his chest, breathing in his scent. ‘For what I have in store? Absolutely.’ Pressing your lips ever so gently on his you sucked his bottom lip between your teeth. Nipping it gently. Narrowing his eyes at you a groan rumbled within his chest.

‘Nox’ he warned ‘we can’t.’

‘Why? Because Merrick said so?’ You pouted ‘the big bad wolf said no?’ Standing on your toes you pressed your mouth against his ear ‘I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf Keegan. He should be afraid of me.’

You slid your hand down his waist into the valley of this thighs, raising a brow at his already hard cock. ‘Mmm perfect’ you cooed. He flinched at your touch, not away from you, into you. Inadvertently he rolled his hips further into your grasp.

The air shifted, just like it always did. It became thick, tense, almost putrid. You were Ying and Yang, cat and mouse. You were the devil reincarnate, and you’d invited him to your table.

Gripping his onyx hair between your fingers you jarred his neck backwards, revealing his neck. The skin pulsated from the swollen artery beneath, but he was still calm. Never wavering at your touch. Switching positions behind him you kicked the back of his knees, causing him to fall. He hissed between his teeth, pain or pleasure you weren’t sure.

His hair still entwined in your fingers you lazily dragged your tongue along the crook of his neck. His skin slightly salty from his sweat, you savoured the taste. ‘Look at you. On your knees for me’ you mocked, placing a possessive kiss on his jaw. His stubble nicked the delicate skin on your lips. The only delicate attribute you had.

You sighed a moan into his skin, one of contentment, you could have stayed like this with him forever. He shifted slightly beneath you, pulling back you stared into his ashen blue eyes. Bumping your nose against his you forced your lips onto him, driving your tongue into his mouth. You didn’t relent as you gripped him closer to your chest, hands wandering, pulling, dragging, twisting around his body.

Dropping to your knees you straddled his lap as he knelt beneath you. Still buried within his kiss, you rolled against his cock eliciting a deep groan from him. ‘You wanna touch me Keegan? Wanna feel how wet my pussy is for you?’ Your voice was sultry and hoarse, a whisper within a sea of white noise. Screwing his eyes shut he choked out a breath, a muffled sob as you kissed him again. ‘Fuck, I need your cock Russ, I need you so bad’ you murmured, your breath tickling his neck.

He peered up at you through hooded lids, panting softly trying to maintain composure. Gripping his neck between your fingers you pursed your lips, ‘you want that Keegan? You want me fuck you? Make you cum in my pussy?’ His eyes widened, as his jaw went slack trying to process your words. Ghosting your lips along his jaw you nipped his skin between your teeth, ‘you want that?’ He swallowed hard, his mouth audibly dry ‘yes.’

Shooting him a smile that would make the devil proud you yanked his trousers open. You slipped your hand into his clothes, pulling his cock free. Biting your lip you looked down on your prize, feeling yourself involuntarily clench against the seam of your trousers. A smirk rigged at your lips, seeing him so weak and broken beneath you. ‘Beg for me Russ.’

You wouldn’t stop until he was a quivering mess, a pleading, whimpering mess.

Sliding off him you left his cock standing to attention in the cold office air. Grabbing his cheeks between your fingers you gave him a peck ‘good boy.’ Spitting on his cock you watched as your saliva dribbled down his shaft, the sensation made him shudder as a soft whimper passed his lips.

Leaning back you snaked your fingers into your own trousers and towards your weeping cunt. Resting your forehead against his you played with yourself. Slipping two fingers into your hole as you panted against his lips ‘fuck I’m so wet, s’all for you Keegan, s’all for you.’ The sound of your fingers abusing your hole filled the room, his cock twitched violently against his abdomen as you came undone in front of him.

His mind was empty, unable to find words to speak, just hoarse whimpers that forced themselves past his vocal chords. Watching as you fucked your fingers right in front of him, your skin glowing in the dim light of the room. You were ethereal.

As you neared your high you pulled out, gently skimming your fingers over his lips and onto his tongue. The taste of your arousal flooded his senses, sweet yet a tang that was undeniably yours. He craved it. With your fingers placed firmly onto his tongue you kissed him, your tongues gliding over your fingers.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take of this, his cock painfully hard. Throbbing from needing to cum so badly. Your juices danced along his tastebuds as he fought against your tongue. He tried to rise from his knees but you pushed him back down, climbing onto him once more.

Pulling away from the kiss a ribbon of saliva connected the two of you snapped. Using the fingers that were just in his mouth your gripped his jaw, keeping it open. Narrowing your eyes you spat into his mouth, eliciting another groan from him. ‘Swallow baby’ you cooed tightening your grip. He did as he was asked, taking in shallow languid breaths.

‘So good for me Keegan, such a good boy.’

Readjusting your trousers you raised above his taught cock, even the gentle touch of your finger tips to guide it had him arching his back as he moaned. You slipped the head of his cock into your cunt, just the head. He choked out a breath as you removed it again. You repeated this motion over and over and over. Throwing his head back he finally relented ‘please … please … please’ he begged.

Kissing his neck your bit down on the sensitive skin, ‘well because you asked so nicely.’

Sinking down fully onto his thick cock you both gasped, jaws falling open at the sudden change in sensation. You started off slowly, rolling your hips back and forth. He let his head fall forward onto your shoulder as he whined into you. The strangled and muffled moans that came from the depths of his throat just spurred you on.‘Fuckfuckfuckfuck’ he stammered ‘feels so good.’

Cupping his head you picked up your pace, ‘doin so well for me’ you praised against his lips. He looked up at you completely drunk off your cunt, his rolling to the back of his head with pure ecstasy. You allowed your own moans of pleasure seep into his skin as you lifted your hips, crashing back down onto his cock. ‘Oh god … don’t stop … fuck’ he mewled.

Using your fingers you rubbed your clit whilst keeping a punishing pace. You’d already edged yourself so it didn’t take long before your orgasm rebuilt. Pushing your face into the crook of his neck you fell into the abyss, your muscles clenching around him. A surge of adrenaline flooded your system as you rode out your orgasm. As the haze lifted you once again gripped Keegans throat, applying more pressure to the sides of his neck this time. Tampering with his blood flow. He spluttered and writhed as he came, choking out a sob, his eyes now glassy and vision blurred. Arching his back his mouth fell open as he gasped for air, moaning and whimpering. Completely at your mercy.

‘Who do you belong to Keegan?’

‘You, Nox. You.’

Smiling with satisfaction you placed a kiss on his red swollen lips, before sliding him out of you. Hissing through your teeth at the sudden empty feeling. Looking down at Keegan you smirked, nothing more beautiful than a man completely at your mercy, begging.

Once you were re-dressed you tucked his drained and abused cock into his trousers once more. You’d chosen for him to kneel as it was a stress position, rendering his legs useless. Which is what you needed for the surprise you had in store for him. He knelt next to your chair, like a dog. You stroked his hair and whispered praises to him, working your hand down to trace the back of his neck with your nails. He was broken, shattered into a million pieces like a shattered mirror. Unable to be repaired fully.

Crossing your legs you let out a sigh, ‘Claude!’

The door swung open and in they marched, gagged and cuffed.

Merrick, Hesh and Logan.

They’d heard everything.

—————

Taglist - @sashadiurnal @ave661 @bubble-dream-inc @polishcodfan @shyerue @pasta-m1lk

#call of duty keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan russ smut #keegan p russ smut #keegan cod #keegan russ x you #keegan x reader #cod ghosts

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searchengine9000 · 5 months

Text

MINORS DO NOT LOOK!

or look at your own risk.

@fragileheartbeats, i got you covered, or atleast somewhat? I tried my best. If i didn't, well, i'll try again!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47000452/chapters/118402783

Does have smut, isn't /reader, but also a lot of the traits that you wanted, with BOTH sides being all Yandere for eachother, with fluff and juicy lore. It's finished, but the author has already planned the sequel.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53940505/chapters/136534723

Daemon Targaryen/self-insertish Rhea Royce,

Not really what you wanted, but i really like this one.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53542741/chapters/135528010

Daemon/Self-insert Alicent

Really good with a possessive Daemon, but slowburn, not yet there even with this many chapters.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42665391/chapters/107174721

Searching, so much SMUT i feel your pain.

But Reader Reincarnation yadda yadda, Yandere Full House.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42974196

Promising..? Aemond/you, one shot. No smut from a quick read through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50267380

Zhongli/you, one shot

Veeerrrryyy slight yandere. But still there, and no smut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37551709

Zhongli/you, one shot.

Hinted bad ending.

Also, a general hint, SAGAU, (Self-Aware Genshin Alternative Universe) has a lot of obsessive dark x reader shit. The whole shebang is almost fully obsessive shit. On both AO3 and Tumblr.

General hint 2, from Manhwa i recommend The Way to Protect the Female Leads older Brother search on Ao3. Lots of smut, but some hidden gems. Easy, cuz the whole family of Agriche is MENTAL. Gorgeous art tho.

Hope this helped.

-Signed: SearchEngine9000 & V.

Ps: i skipped some of the fandoms in your tags when searching for what you wanted, i know nothing about bluelock or COD, harry potter skipped cuz it was last and i forgot, Slashers skipped because i forgot it meant the killer-band of guys and not the american name for a yandere, Obey Me you only need to go to settings and place #Smut on your excluding filter on either AO3 or Tumblr and bada-bing bada-boom, and that's already so MANY to look through.

#honkai star rail #fanfic rec #caelus #dan heng #daemon targeryan #hotd #alicent hightower #rhea royce #genshin sagau #zhongli #aemond targaryen #FIC-finder

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

Text

Dance of Time

P R E V I E W

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Coming Soon

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

————————————————–

“Okay, so I do have some questions that I would like to ask, if that’s okay?” You speak for the first time since the tour began. The boys share another quick glance before Namjoon nods.

“Of course. What tour would this be if there were no questions to be asked.” His words had you calming down a bit.

“Okay. First question. Can you tell me why this manor was nicknamed the ‘Weeping Manor’?” You were still walking as you had your pen pressed to your paper, ready to write down whatever their answer was.

“I think you will actually find the answer within the last room.” Namjoon gestured to Jin who opened the door at the end of the north corridor.

The door opened into a large room, shelves filling the space as you looked towards the right, books with pages spilling out just calling your name as your mouth opened in awe.

Right in front of you was a large oak desk, the top of it covered in your books and articles, you could even see some pieces highlighted or underlined as you slowly walked closer.

You felt nervous, the entire atmosphere shifting from joyful and playful to dark and eerie. You turned behind you to question Namjoon or Jin but they were gone. The door now closed and the room’s only light coming from the slightly open shades on the window behind the desk.

Your eyes flittered across the space, looking for the two men who seemingly disappeared into thin air, wanting to leave and be done with the tour. You didn’t like the feelings you were having, the cold air brushing across your skin coming from nowhere.

“Mr. Kim?” You called out, turning back around to the door only to have your eyes catch sight of a large family portrait.

It was a painting of the property, dating back to 1838 when the manor was originally built, even before the town had an official name and place on the map. Seven men resided in the front of the portrait, sitting and standing in a line just in front of the large pine tree that resided to the right of the men.

You moved forward to get a closer look at the portrait when the tiny description just below caught your eye.

“The Kim Coven. Ca. 1838.”

Coven? What did that even mean? Your confusion didn’t end there but grew into shock and something like horror when you finally looked up to the faces within the portrait.

The man standing within the middle of the painting was a spitting image of the man who gave you the tour. The same man who met you at the local diner and exchanged emails back and forth with you.

To his right, and to your even deeper horror, stood Seokjin, eyes almost staring at your shaking from beneath the paint.

You took a step back, your hand covering your mouth in fear as you tried to back away from the painting when you bumped into someone. A whimper leaving your lips as you tried to quiet your sobs.

“Please…please.” You began to beg, knowing you were done for.

“Oh, darling. Please don’t cry.” The man behind you coos, a hand moving up to move your hair away from your neck as a small kiss is pressed to your skin.

“You’re finally home.”

#bts #bts au #vampiretan sonyeondan #bts vampire #bts vampire au #bts reincarnation #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #vampire bts #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly!#kidnapping #historian mc #reincarnated mc #slight yandere bts #possessive bts

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 1 month

Text

Round 3, Poll 2

To Spoon Feed You Comfort v. Soul Traitor

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK "KEEP READING".

To Spoon Feed You Comfort: (Accidental Marriage AU)

Have a conversation. Bilbo could certainly do that. He’s learned quite a bit on how to talk to dwarves on this quest after all. He shot to his feet, looking around the room, only for his eyes to meet Thorin’s own. It felt like the dwarf’s gaze was boring into Bilbo, trying to discover his every secret the hobbit had. Courage leaving him, Bilbo opted instead for a walk through the gardens to get his head right.

It was much later when Bilbo returned to the dwarven common room, only to discover they had made a little fire pit in the center of it. Not wanting to be a part of vandalism, Bilbo found his way onto the outer balconies.

He has enjoyed the peace and beauty of Rivendell. It was somewhere he’s always wanted to visit after listening to his mother’s stories. He leaned against the railing, watching the fireflies start to appear when he heard a noise behind him. When he turned, he saw Thorin standing there staring at him. Bilbo’s jaw dropped. This was his chance. Before he could utter a word though, a conversation from below captured his attention.

Elrond and Gandalf appeared to be arguing over the state of their quest. Bilbo furrowed his brows, casting a glance at Thorin who also appeared to be listening intently.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs in that family…”

Bilbo could feel himself getting worked up. A bunch of Shire gossips, that’s all they were. He would have expected better from the immortal pair. When Bilbo turned around to tell Thorin it was okay, he found the dwarf had already ducked inside the hallway. Bilbo sprinted after him, hollering his name.

“Wait! Thorin, it’s okay!”

Suddenly, a hand caught his wrist spinning him around and pinning his back against the wall in the dark alcove.

“What do you know of it?” Thorin growled, pressing close to him. “What do you know of watching your grandfather’s mind wither until there was not a thought left but that of gold? What do you know of watching your father, your brother, yourself for signs of that same sickness with dread? You in your comfortable little hole. What right do you have to tell me it’s okay?”

Bilbo felt his nose twitch as he took a sharp breath. Thorin let him go, and Bilbo quickly grabbed his jacket to keep him from leaving.

“I know nothing of sickness of the mind or gold. But I know you. Or at least I think I’ve come to know you. I’ve watched you care for your company, every single member. I know how seriously you carry your burdens. But Thorin, I’ve never once worried for your sanity, mad quest to burgle from a dragon aside.”

Bilbo hadn’t meant to say that last bit, and he froze worried he might have offended Thorin by making light of it. Instead, the dwarf gave a small chuckle. A noise that had Bilbo’s heart pounding faster. This was it. This was the exact moment where he should tell him.

Soul Traitor: (Reincarnated Soulmates)

A memory from far away came bidden to Bilbo’s mind as his lips ticked upwards slightly.

“And most amusing for you?” He finished.

Gandalf chuckled. “The only thing I will find amusing is when the dwarves realize how wrong they are about you.” He lowered his voice as if he were about to impart a secret. “A rather stubborn race that tends to stick to their own preconceived notions until proven otherwise.”

Bilbo shook his head with a sigh. Just how was he supposed to prove them wrong if they wouldn’t even give him the time of day? He had the strangest urge to hug Gandalf close like a child hiding in their mother’s skirt. However, if there was one thing in the world more stubborn than dwarves, it was wizards when they got an idea in their head.

“If I asked you to take me back home to the Shire instead, would that be on your way?”

“I’m afraid not.” Gandalf smiled gently. “You will either be traveling to Rivendell with the company, or back home to the Shire alone.”

Bilbo sighed. His mother used to travel alone. Surely, Bilbo could retrace his steps easily enough.

“Halfling!” Thorin barked. “Let’s go. The day will get away from us if we don’t depart now.”

Bilbo looked over to see all the dwarves already in their saddles, waiting for him to finish his conversation with Gandalf. Bilbo turned back to the wizard who merely gave him a wink.

“I will see you again. I promise, Bilbo.”

Something in Bilbo settled at his words even knowing that could mean in another life. Bilbo hugged the wizard tightly before turning back to Thorin and company. He gave a single nod as he grabbed Myrtle's saddlehorn, pulling himself up onto her back. Seeing him finally ready to go, Thorin swiftly pulled his pony’s reins around, leading their group out of town. Most of the dwarves rode in pairs, conversing with each other in low tones leaving Bilbo at the back of the group alone. He turned back to give one last look at Gandalf, but the wizard was already gone. Bilbo took a deep breath as he came upon a fork in the road. One path taking him home, the other following the company.

He contemplated his options. Did he want to go home? Or did he want to see this through? He knew what his head was screaming at him, but his heart…his heart knew he would go back to being a shell of a hobbit in the Shire. He needed to do this. Regardless of how uncomfortable it was. Besides, Rivendell has always been somewhere he’s wanted to see. Maybe he would finally find peace amongst the rumored beauty of the Last Homely House. Ever so gently, Bilbo nudged Myrtle along after the dwarves. His eyes glued to the backside of the pony in front of him hoping he was not about to regret this decision.

***

Bilbo had gotten a taste of living off the road from his short journey with Gandalf, but it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for camping with the dwarves.

#birthday plot bunnies tournament #follower event #the hobbit #bagginshield #round 3 poll 2 #accidental marriage au #reincarnated soulmates

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avatrice4l · 11 months

Text

DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

What if…

Ava, who was stuck on the other side was being brutally tortured by Reya. Now Ava is getting punished for trying to escape for the hundredth time and it’s truly hitting her… no one will be able to reach her… no one will be able to save her… and she won’t be able to get back to Bea. She was running out of hope. But as Ava is about to give up, the Halo gives out one last final push of power making it back home.

Julian was working on the machine when a blast of energy hits inside of the lab and her machine was flickering, as if it was giving off a message. “What the-” Julian cut herself off a grabbed a piece of paper. The machine was given short and long pauses. “MORSE CODE” Julian shouted, making sure to watch closely.

On the paper:

•••• • •-•• •—•

H E L P

•- •••- •-

A V A

••• •••• • •••

S H E S

•- •-•• •• •••- •

A L I V E

__________________

That is all Julian had gotten from the message because it just started repeating. So she immediately contacted to OCS and they got their to inspect the situation. But Beatrice wasn’t their.

________

Once Ava was gone for the first 4 months, she couldn’t do it anymore. She revoked her vows, and left OCS with a broken heart. She was in the lowest part of her life that she as ever been. She was filled with hatred that enraged inside of her.

One day, Beatrice got so drunk in a bar and got herself thrown out by the bouncer, into an alleyway. She sat up, starting to cry again wanting Ava by her side again.

“Everything alright?” A voice faintly spoke.

“Get away hobo, I’m not broke! I just got kicked out of the bar” Bea drunkly said.

“Then why are you crying?” The voice spoke again

“None of your business! I just- I miss her” Bea let herself begin to cry again

“What is your deepest desires,Beatrice?”

“How do you know my name-”

Beatrice looked up, and saw a pair of red eyes. She swallowed the saliva in her mouth. She knew exactly who this was.

“Y- Y- Y- Your the D-D-” Beatrice kept stuttering and couldn’t make out the words.

“The Devil”

“Oh Shit” Beatrice quick got up and dashed off

“Do you want her back? Ava, I mean of course. She is the one that is your deepest desire.” He spoke

Beatrice stopped in her tracks and turn to look at him. “Don’t you dare say her name, your just a deceiver and a manipulator!”

He began to giggle, “oh my my my Beatrice, you are a feisty one. I see why Ava took a liking to you. However, she’s still alive.”

“What are you saying devil!”

“She’s alive, but she’s slowly getting to her end. I can feel it.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?!”

“My dear Beatrice, I am the God of Death after all… would you like to save her?”

“H-H-How would I do that?” Beatrice was vulnerable. She wanted Ava back.. no fuck that she needed Ava back.

“Make a deal with the Devil” He smirked at Beatrice but was honest.

“And why would you want me? I don’t get it why me?!”

“Why not you? You want something that I can give you, and I want something from you.”

“Which is what huh? You give me Ava and what do you get out of this?”

“I want you to be my reincarnated Lucifer.” He smirked once again

Beatrice thought for a minute, if she does this she just sold her soul to the Devil… But she does get Ava back

“Tick Tock your running out of time Beatrice, we’ll I mean Ava is running out of time, she’s close to death”

Beatrice stopped thinking

“OK OK, let’s to this! No turning back, I NEED HER!”

“Your wish is my command, Beatrice” He bowed at her then lighting shot from the sky.

————————

#warrior nun #ava silva #save warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #avatrice #ava x sister beatrice #jealous bea #warrior nun smut #ao3 smut

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soulmatebracket · 1 year

Text

Soulmate Bracket: Round 1 [Side A — Part V]

Provided reasoning under cut:

Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji

They are canonically called soulmates!! In the live action this is platonic due to censorship and in the book it is romantic but the term actually used is zhiji (知己) of which soulmate is the closest english translation but is more literally like. the mirror to your soul. your own self in another person. i am not good with translations only wei wuxian dies but lan wangji mourns him for thirteen years (despite wwx being hated and despised by the world) because he can never love another. when wwx is brought back he recognises him instantly despite being in someone else’s body. they literally would find each other in any time or place

Oh boy. Ok. They're not explicitly called "soulmates" in the show/book but Netflix does use that categorization in its description of "The Untamed". Nor are either of them technically reincarnated BUT Wei Wuxian does get resurrected in another man's body through some shady necromancy, which is pretty darn close. They've got a fascinating relationship journey (basically enemies/rivals to lovers) Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji meets Mr. Break-All-The-Rules-In-The-Name-Of-Fun-And-Showing-Off Wei Wuxian at teenage exorcist summer camp, they go through some sh*t, Wei Wuxian dies, Lan Wangji spends over a decade trying to find any sign of his lost soulmate while raising his adopted kid, then the shady necromancy happens and Lan Wangji IMMEDIATELY clocks that this guy simultaneously solving exorcist issues using slightly questionable means and causing shenanigans is Wei Wuxian. He might be in a different body pretending to be another crazy man, but HE KNOWS it's his guy because he acts the same and he knows the secret love song Wangji wrote for Wuxian that he shared one time in a cave during one of their near-death bonding experiences. Then history starts kind of repeating itself, only this time they stick together and make sure EVERYONE knows that they've got each others' backs, and they are absolutely legendary. Also Wei Wuxian is INCREDIBLY dense and it takes him just about until the end of the story to realize they're both gay and in love. They're complex and fascinating and tied to each other by the red string of fate so tightly that they are incomplete without each other. That's destiny, baby. They're soulmates, always and forever. (Possibly literally as the proper practice of exorcism (called "cultivation" in this world) can lead to immortality, and you know Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji has the potential, and he will drag his guy along with him so they are never separated again.)

Okay so I feel like it could be argued if they count but the Netflix description of the show calls them soulmates and WWX *did* get reincarnated and then almost immediately run into LWJ who had been mourning him for 16 years. LWJ composed a little musical theme for them that ties them together and WWX playing it on a super out of tune flute is what let LWJ fully recognize him. Their magic which comes from their souls is very compatible and neither of them have ever been normal about each other in their life even though WWX spent a long time being extremely dumb and repressed about his very gay feelings (they are romantic soulmates, just takes them a bit to get there). Big "you and me against the world" vibes once WWX becomes the number 1 wanted guy in the entire universe due to dabbling in dark magic even though WWX was like "lan zhan if someone has to kill me i want it to be you" (LWJ did *not* want it to be him and did his very best to keep WWX alive even though it meant betraying his clan and the world as a whole). They got fake married as teens back when LWJ didn't even like WWX. There are multiple moments where they parallel other soulmates/soulmate-coded characters (song lan and xiao xingchen, baoshen sanren and lan an). They're the only two characters who get to be happy at the immediate end of the story and that's because both of them being alive and together and getting to wander around fighting monsters and playing music and being grossly in love is all that they both need.

Utena Tenjou & Anthy Himemiya

[SPOILERS] at the end of the series, it is revealed that they weren’t living in the real world this entire time. Utena was sent somewhere else. Anthy goes to find her in the movie, and Utena has lost all of her memories of Anthy in that world. At the end of the movie, they end up escaping to the real world

Utena falls in love with Anthy on first sight and makes sure she becomes her prince without even remembering who she is. They're stuck in a timeloop and eventually find themselves together near the end escaping from the horrors theyre trapped in. (Spoilers kinda) Anthy is hinted to have came back to life after being burned st the stake for being seen as a witch so the reincarnation exists,,,(they're in love your honor vote for my silly sapphics)

Every version of RGU is the narrative repeating itself. Devouring itself again. The serpent eating its own tail. Utena fights for Anthy again and again. Anthy betrays Utena, or lies to Utena, or cannot save the both of them quick enough. Anthy escapes, or they both escape, or they both get trapped again, and the story repeats, and Utena is winning the hand of the rose bride, and Utena cannot escape the narrative. Each time the story is told again Utena cannot quite remember how she got here, but it gets more familiar each time. RGU is a time loop that the characters can hardly escape. In every version, Anthy and Utena find each other. Betray each other. Find each other, again.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #revolutionary girl utena #soulmatebracket #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #utenanthy #id in alt text

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wellthebardsdead · 11 months

Text

Unwilling dreamer pt6

Part 5 here

———

Shamat: where?… where am I?… *looks around the dark space before him, a seemingly endless void spanning on for eternity*

???: look up.

Shamat: *looks up and blinks thinking for a moment he’s somehow ended up upside down as he sees not himself, but voryn, standing upside down above him* wh-what the?! V-voryn? What’s going on? What’s happening?! N-nerevar said I’d understand but I don’t! I’m scared-

Voryn: *suddenly appears in front of him, gently holding his face in his hands as he presses a kiss to the eyelids of his new third eye* shhhh. He can’t hurt you here. *slowly strokes his cheeks with his thumbs as his nails begin to turn into claws* he can’t hurt us here.

Shamat: h-hurt me? Hurt us?… what was he trying to do?

Voryn: he was attempting to erase any presence of dagoth ur, and, of you. So I may enter your body as my reincarnation. He doesn’t love you, not truely. He’ll forever only see you as just me.

Shamat: d-doesn’t- love me?… but he said he did- he held me as his- he kisses me he doesn’t use me like the men on the streets did-

Voryn: and he called you my name as he did it.

Shamat: It’s my name too!! I was never given my real name! I never received a true naming day! The only reason I was named what I am is because of you!! Because of dagoth ur! Everything bad in my life that has ever happened has been your fault! So why can’t the one good thing I have be because of you too!?

Voryn: do you truely think it’s good?… you lay now bloody and hurting because of his selfishness. He was so willing to cast you away in favour of me. Of bringing me into your body as my vessel-

Shamat: SHUT UP!!! *tries to pull away from him but to no avail* It was a mistake! I’m sure he never meant to hurt me! He would never hurt me on purpose! He saved me! He gave me everything I could ever want! He loves me!! I’m his! I’m his Voryn! I am Voryn! I am you!!!!

Voryn: *tilts his head slowly as his skin begins to flake away like ash, revealing a dark grey beneath the gold* You don’t even know who you are. You will never truely be me. No matter how hard you try. *squeezes shamats face tighter as his clawed fingers reach for his eye as if threatening to pluck it out* You will never be us.

Shamat: *jolts awake and immediately arches his back in pain as his heart thuds violently back to life in his chest, and his wounds openly weep against the cold metal of his restraints* n-nerevar?… *looks through the blood clouding his vision and the eyes of his mask around the room as the moons light finally shifts from directly over him, allowing him to see the Hortator standing in the shadows just a few feet from the slab where he lay* i-I’m sorry- p-please forgive me I’ll be good- I’m sorry I’m sorry I’ll behave I’ll do better-

Nerevar: *standing there in shock and heartbreak having been pulled from a vision of his own* Shamat…

*a few hours later*

Shamat: *draped in a comfy loose robe, his wounds cleaned and dressed in bandages around his neck, wrists and ankles, and his third eye hidden beneath a soft cotton blindfold. Now confined to his bed under the watch of guards after several attempts to throw himself against the door, begging to see nerevar* p-please I swear I’ll behave! *climbs from his bed again only to be picked up and placed back beneath the covers by the worlds most patient ordinator* Please just let me apologise to him! I need to apologise to him!!

Ordinator: he will come check on you in time my lord. Attempting to get past me will do you no good, you’ll just unravel your dressings again. *steps back to return to the door, watching Shamat closely* You’ve already made the healers return twice to fix them. Now stay pu- *falls silent as the door opens and nerevar enters* Your highness. *bows lowly*

Nerevar: *looks at him, before casting his gaze to Shamat and feeling a familiar and yet new sense of heartbreak take him* you’re dismissed. Leave us.

Ordinator: *nods* yes sir. *steps from the room closing the door before removing his helmet and nervously rubbing his face* switch?…

Ordinator 2: whip more like.

Ordinator: Maybe bare handed… you heard his voice… he sounded beyond upset.

Ordinator 2: might as well start digging a grave now for the poor thing… I doubt nerevar will even have the mercy to throw him onto the streets…

Ordinator: the high priest and his most trusted hands all dead because of- whatever he did to them. *shudders* I heard their eyes exploded.

Ordinator 2: worse. There’s just a hollow socket in the middle of their faces, their hearts were ash in their chests and their blood turned hard and as black as ebony. The high priest had what looked like a… gigantic maggot writhing out of the hole in his head. It was moving…

Ordinator: should we stay in case he-

Ordinator 2: no. I don’t want to be around in case it happens to us too… or to hear the Hortator beat him to death… let’s go. *walks off down the hall gesturing for the other to follow, completely unaware of the figure lurking beyond the shadows of the sconce light*

*meanwhile*

Nerevar: *seated on shamats bed with the small dunmer willingly seated in his lap, his frail frame trembling against him as he weeps and pleads to his chest, pleading for him to keep him, pleading for his forgiveness, pleading to let him prove he’s his voryn after all* shhhh, it’s alright. *carefully dries his cheek with his sleeve* I’m not going to abandon you sham-

Shamat: Voryn! I’m still your voryn! I am him I am!!! *grabs at his robe desperately* I have his memories! His face! His voice! I’m him! I’m voryn!! I’m-

Nerevar: *lifts his chin planting a soft, small kiss to his lips knowing it’ll be enough to silence him and the doubts in his head* you’re mine, this hasn’t changed that… *slides his hand around the dunmers waist, squeezing him ever so slightly* But are you sure you want to be called Voryn and not your name?… I never once asked you, and I’m sorry for th- *squeezes him tighter as he presses his lips to his in a fervent, desperate kiss* mmm- *slides his other hand around his waist and pulls him in closer*

Shamat: *pulls back ever so slightly with soft, breathy gasps* yes- yes I want to be called voryn- it’s my name. Mine-

Nerevar: *torn at a crossroads as the logical part of his brain desperately tries to scream over his twisted, lonely heart. Knowing full well he shouldn’t indulge shamats wants when he’s in a clear state of trauma and psychosis, but wanting so very badly to believe he truely wants this, wants him, wants to be voryn and to be his* …My Voryn… *gently slides his hands up his back and holds him tight to his chest as he strokes his hair, undoing the blindfold and letting his third eye be free and open* Youre my Voryn… all… mine…

#nerevar #voryn dagoth #Shamat the sharmat #shamat dragonborn

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avemstella · 11 months

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so that archon quest, huh. Would be absolutely thrilled to hear what u have to say about fontaine act V :] i love all your takes on furina & neuvillette & fontaine as a whole, and of course childe [pretty much an honorary fontanian with how he unintentionally got wrapped up in everything whoops]

Oh boy, I have so many thoughts. To start with some non-spoilerly stuff: I loved it so much. I'm not sure if I'll say it's my favorite Archon Quest yet (I think I would have to go through some of the older ones), but I think it's safe to say Fontaine overall as an arc is my favorite. Even its weakest part (the prison stuff, tbh it was a pacing issue) was still really solid and the ending, while not perfect, really landed. Genshin continued the trend from Sumeru of having the playable characters really take the stage and god there were some great standouts (Navia/Neuvi/Furina to name my favs, but I also loved my fatui and there really isn't anyone I've disliked). And well, the quest (and Furina's chara quest) made me cry like a baby, so that's a win.

Tbh, I think my biggest issue, wasn't even really an issue with the story but just a case of I had a very clear idea of what I wanted out of it (the woes of writing speculative fic pfft) and when it wasn't that I'm like "awww darn". Thats on me, and I genuinely really loved what we got, but it do be like that sometimes haha.

Spoilers below, oh boy (also my Furina fic spoilers too lol).

Eldritch abomination Furina I'll mourn u forever. I can't complain because Furina splitting herself in two to go fuck u to the heavens is such a boss ass move I can't haha. Okay, but I will say, even if I'm probably the only one, I do wish they brought some Remuria stuff up in the main quest. They had the perfect set up with Ajax being there with his Greek myth references and just ahhhh, one can hope they do something with it later. But yes, just know it's my silly headcanon that Focalors just lied about being an Oceanid to Neuvi and is one of King Remus's fucked up Primordial Sea experiments that maybe caused the Abyss rift at the fall of Remuria.

But yes, Furina, Furina, I'm crying. She really destroyed the girl failure accusations in the most glorious way possible. She literally didn't fail once (either of her), she plotted out a plan to trick the heavens, give back what was stolen, and save her people and she did it perfectly. As you're probably well aware, I'm a big fuck u Celestia gal, so it was just so satisfying to see her just obliterate the throne (even when I was crying haha). And honestly, super relevant to the state of the real world, but her giving back sovereignty to Neuvi in my mind is a very clear decolonization metaphor. Ages past descenders came to Teyvat, killed the dragons and created their own order, and now Focalors is returning that power back to said dragon (or well, the dragon's heir, it's a bit vague if Neuvi's literally the old dragon's soul reincarnated or just the body).

The entire scene between Neuvi and Focalors was great, though I will admit I have one issue with it (and even then I go back and forth on it haha). Neuvi in that scene doesn't have a big attachment to Focalors. What I mean is that ultimately Neuvi only ever knew Furina (which side note I'll get into this next, but I do view them as the same person, but still), and with Focalors' 'death' he's not technically losing anything, the person he's sad over will still be there. Like don't get me wrong, he's very empathetic and can be sad over this person who is dying for them, but I feel like it could have been even more heartbreaking if he had met Furina/Focalors before the split, or he had interacted with Focalors somehow in the past, and so in this moment he wasn't just watching Furina's sacrifice, but the sacrifice of someone he shares memories with. But that's me being picky haha and not really a critique on the writing.

But yes, Furina! Focalors! As I previewed before, I'm going to come out swinging with a possibly hot take. They are, and always were the same person. Yes, Focalors is the divinity, but as we see after Furina is allowed to rest her persona, Furina is also super mature and knowledgeable. In Neuvi's flashback quotes of Furina, it's her softly giving important advice about living with humanity, which is what Focalors was all about. And much like Furina, Focalors loves preforming, she loves humans, she gets all excited about Furina and her future, and is sad she won't get to experience it.

Not to remotely downplay Furina's suffering (because holy shit my poor girl), but Focalors too played her role. Unlike Furina who had Neuvillette and all her friends post this, Focalors was all alone in the Oratrice, waiting for the day she had to kill herself. Furina, has the promise of a future, despite all the suffering she endured to get there. She gets the reward of a happy life as a human surrounded by people who love her, and while it was touch a go for a bit, she was told one day her play would end. In contrast, while Focalors didn't have the same anxiety that Furina had, Focalors knew from the beginning she would never get to see her people saved. Technically she, like Furina, didn't even know if it would even happen. She put her faith in Neuvillette to follow through, and while she had the utmost faith in him, she could never know for certain. But much like her mirror Furina, Focalors weighed her suffering over the people of Fontaine's, and never once faltered. Furina was willing to possibly kill herself via primordial seawater in order to keep up her ruse, whose to say Focalors wasn't the same. Smiling at Neuvillette until the last moment because she couldn't risk him interfering, hiding away her anxieties and sorrow, so he wouldn't look so sad. Furina's performance ended, Focalors' never will.

Focalors was so certain she couldn't be human, but as we see from the Oceanids it was totally possible. And even more vitally, we see from the other Archons it's possible. They might fumble around a bit (some more than others, looking at u Ei), but they are learning and immersing themselves with their people. While not an Archon, it's the same with Neuvillette. Focalors should have had the same opportunities as Furina and the rest (mostly because she is Furina), but the world isn't kind, and that's why her sacrifice hurts.

If u can't tell I have a lot of feelings about Focalors/Furina and while I can appreciate a joke about Focalors giving Furina anxiety, I'm also like, they are literally the same person working together, she deserves the world (all of her).

But yes, I can go on and on about Furina, but for now I'll move onto our boy Childe. To get it out of the way, a little disappointed that we really got no answers about him. Poor guy didn't really have any lines. Also, not big on Skirk's design, mostly the outfit. Putting her next to Dain and uh, yeah (like don't get me wrong don't mind the color scheme and all, but could she not have gotten some kind of armor. Or look more like Foul Legacy or something idk).

But onto more happier notes, I'm so happy to see Childe finally getting to do well in a fight. I know it's a meme for him to get beaten up, but my dude is the Vanguard, let him win sometimes (he doesn't technically win here, but he was fighting an eldritch whale monster for ages and helped save Fontaine, I'm giving it to him). And Skirk, while her design is mostly less to be desired, I'm winning on guessing her hair and eye color haha. Also, while I'll always love my version, I'm liking her personality so far. Her yeeting Childe, while I admit took me out a bit (I thought she threw him farther into the Abyss and was like, "uh guys, yall worried about my poor boy here???" and then was a bit baffled at them saying he was fine) was so fucking funny. It's cool to learn "Foul Legacy" refers to a literal person, and I found the fact that Skirk's relationship with Foul is basically the same as her relationship with Childe very amusing. And it seems she's Khaenri'ahn, maybe? Also, I thought she was listing off her master's other names at first, so when she said Gold I got super hyped that I guessed correctly about the narwhal being Rhine's in my fic, but then they were like nope pfft. I'll take it as a win.

Sidenote, Alice and Rhine where are yoooouuuuuu.

Ultimately, while I enjoyed the Childe and Skirk stuff, it really just feels like a set-up for later stuff. Which isn't really a problem, but I was hoping we'd get something a bit more concrete. Like, I thought we were going to get answers about the "it" that Skirk saw in him, and it would have to do with the Narwhal, but now it seems those were mostly unrelated??? While I did find baby Ajax accidentally waking up a big world eating monster up kind of hilarious, it did feel a little incidental, if that makes any sense. Like, Fontaine's doom was an accident and not the result of anyone's choices. But that might just be a me thing. (and the quest needed more Arle, where was she??? my not really based on anything theory is that whenever we get Furina (or maybe Nevui's) 2nd character quest, Arle will be the boss fight. A reverse of the normal final Harb boss fight during the Archon quest)

Okay, because I really don't want to end on a downer (as I said uptop, I genuinely adored this quest haha), here are some minor spoilers from the Narzissenkreuz Ordo quest that have me by a chokehold.

I wasn't ready for a sudden Ajax. What does this mean??????

And this one just makes me laugh. Whichever Ordo member wrote this, I vehemently disagree with u and am on Khaenri'ah's side with this one. I'd much rather have bread then some higher power nonsense. In my fic I tend to write Khaenri'ah more akin to a modern nation than a fantasy one, and its nice to see me vindicated pfft.

Other random notes, enjoyed that the Fatui weren't just cartoonishly evil in both the main and world quests. I like some nuance. I saw that Sandrone hint, that was fun. Though it makes me wonder when we'll get Columbina lore (especially because if the theory about Harbinger boss fight order based on the Constellation circle is true, she should be showing up soon. Though also I half think that order will break because if it doesn't, it means Sandrone will probably be the final Harb boss which is an odd choice.) As revealed on Furina's weapon, Egeria being around during Remuria raises so many questions around the timeline of events. Genshin pls tell me when the Archon war takes place in all this pls (if they tell us in some lore I haven't read yet, whoops). (also on egeria, I mourn my version but hey, she exists in my heart and in my fics pfft. I can't wait to write her in smfwtwd and venti fic, though she's getting a new name for confusion and better symbolsism)

the contrast between Neuvi and Furina after the quest is so funny and sad. Neuvi "Furina is the best, I want her to be happy". Furina, "Everyone hates me, Neuvillette most of all, I can never face him again." And the other Archons, they are all like Furina, wow u are so cool (which just highlights Neuvi's utter disdain for them other than Nahida haha).

And most vitally, Furina and Venti should be best friends. Musically inclined performers who definitely aren't plotting to overthrow the heavens. I think they are neat (they also both have Latin names!).

#avem rambling #avem's asks #I could probably go on forever #but I'll restrain myself pfft #also still making my way through the exploration #finished the ordo the fairy and the missing pelican quests #but my exploration in general is still low #I like taking my time #like I took my time answering this ask pfft #as u can tell I have to many thoughts lol

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