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immortalarizona · 6 months

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hi! i’m curious about how you’re characterizing buppido in your OotA game—in my experience playing and planning to DM, i’ve had trouble connecting with him and figuring out how to make his twist surprising and impactful.

also if you have any similar thoughts for shuushar, that’s another blorbo i don’t know how to make compelling lol

I'm soooooo flattered to have gotten this ask from you!!!! first off, I would like to apologize if this is largely incoherent; I have spent a solid seven (7) of the past 24 hours playing two different D&D sessions, both of them pretty brutal combats. this is gonna be a loooooong post, so my answer is under the cut :]

also, if anyone reading this post happens to be one of my players going snooping for my blog, STOP READING NOW.

okay cool

I'll start each character section with a quick description I wrote for myself on each of their personalities (or my interpretations of them, at least).

Buppido

Buppido Diirdeklin is surprisingly talkative and friendly given the situation everyone is in. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything, diving into even the thick of battle with his perpetual, almost uncanny cheer. He seems to be very devoted to some deity unknown to non-derro, as after every battle, he kneels over the bodies of any enemy he has slain and appears to pray in silence for a few seconds. Buppido’s faith is the only subject which he remains reticent about, but he will happily engage in discussions of almost anything else with anyone else. He claims a desire to return to his people in Gracklstugh in order to help liberate them from their lives as second-class citizens under the duergar.

basically, how I saved Buppido thus far was through a lot of guilt-tripping the player characters and using what I knew of them (only what I reasonably figured he would know at this point; he's not secretly omniscient like Jimjar so there's only so much meta knowledge I can apply) to manipulate them. the angle I'm taking is that he wants something objectively good (for the derro to not be treated like dogshit) but is going about it in The most fucked up way possible (ritual murder because he think it'll give him back his divine power, which he can then use to fucking obliterate the duergar and free his people). he is very polite and has this veneer of kindness with which he treats the people he's manipulating. he will say whatever it takes to get the person he's talking to on his side, regardless of whether he actually believes it (but I do think it's more interesting if he genuinely believes he's doing the right thing). as an example of this in action, here's a copy of the monologue he gave the rogue when she was like "hey dude, I'm getting Real Bad Vibes from you, what's up." keep in mind that she is a tiefling.

"I heard what Kzekarit said to you a few nights back--so I trust that you will understand what it means to be judged solely on the basis of your blood. The duergar"--he almost spits the name--"have given us many names, none of them fit for polite company. Even our name in Undercommon comes from their word for 'derelict.' The audacity, when it is them that have forced us to live in the streets--if they allow us to live at all!" Buppido's voice has steadily been raising in volume this entire time, and he has to take a moment to catch his breath after that. When he continues, his voice is quieter, but no less passionate. "I have lived a long time. But I am blessed beyond measure. I am the exception. I am what is known among my people as a savant--one who has manifested magical powers. We are respected, yes, but. . . magic changes you. I have seen. . . things. . . in the shadows that I can never unsee. Things much worse than intellect devourers." His grip on his staff, which he is currently using as a walking stick, trembles, and he closes his eyes. "I have to believe that it was worth it. If I don't deliver us. . . no one will." He looks up at Promise again. "Do you understand now, little thief?" he asks, but it's not a question. It's a plea.

(for context, Sarith called the rogue "demonspawn" before promising that he would not hesitate to stab her if he saw a reason to do so when she asked where his loyalties lay.)

similarly, Buppido appealed to the ranger's sense of sympathy/pity with an excuse about nightmares and not entirely being himself when he woke up from one, which is why he tried to stab the twins. this was a bit of metagaming on my part, but the ranger is haunted by nightmares despite not sleeping (drow moment). it worked, and when the ranger had a mini emotional breakdown, Buppido then appealed to his sympathies further by patting the ranger's hand and saying that he would hug him, but he is not very tall, and his poor back can only take so much strain. the ranger then kneeled down, cast cure wounds to help Buppido's back pain, and gave him a hug. Buppido thanked the ranger for giving him another chance (as he had similarly given Sarith another chance) and told the ranger that he has a "good heart" and to "never change." (what he really meant was "you're so fucking easy to manipulate and I would prefer for that to not change.")

so, y'know. a lot of Manipulate Mansplain Manslaughter, with a side of Moral Complexity. like, man's a fucking serial killer, but he also has an ultimate goal which my party at least seems to empathize with. as for the emotional impact, you really only get as much out of the reveal as your players put into the character during the lead-up. my party has a Massive found family dynamic going already (Topsy has already sarcastically called the ranger, who she accidentally bit by the way, "dad," to give you a sense of how things are going), and Buppido fits right in as a sort of grandpa figure. he will find the most emotionally vulnerable PCs, worm his nasty little way into their hearts through false displays of kindness, and try to drive a wedge between them and any other characters who see through him. (I suggest giving him expertise in Deception. it feels appropriate.)

Shuushar

Shuushar the Awakened claims to have spent a lifetime in contemplation and solitary meditation in order to overcome his people’s legacy of madness, and it shows in the aura of enlightened calm he exudes despite the horrors he has suffered during his imprisonment. Nothing seems to be able to drive him to anger, and he is utterly unafraid to die for his belief in peace and goodness. He is always happy to offer tidbits of wisdom to those who ask for them, and also to those who don’t. Shuushar hopes to return to his hometown of Sloobludop in order to share his enlightenment with his fellow kuo-toa, as well as anyone else he encounters along the way.

Shuushar,,, drives my players a little bit insane, and I definitely haven't been utilizing his full potential (the players have been mostly fixated on Sarith, the twins, and the cleric NPC I brewed up to replace Eldeth). I've mostly been using him as a vehicle for foreshadowing through what I call Shuushar Stories. he's just. the Worst Fucking Storyteller and it's delightful to write, actually. here are two of the ones I feel contribute most to his characterization:

#1: Darklake Hag

“Yeah, so when they threw me out of Sloobludop, they didn’t even give me a boat, so I had to steal one. Or I was planning to, but then my friend Bloppdagadil snuck out after me to give me her spare boat and also a bag of crawlers. They weren’t fresh, but it was still a great gesture. What a gal. . . Shame the merrows got her. Nasty surprise when the fishermen I was traveling with pulled bits of her out of the Lake in their nets. . . Anyways, yeah, so I was traveling in Bloppdagadil’s boat when suddenly, I’m stuck on a sandbar! So I get out and try to push the boat back into the water when this weird green lady appears out of nowhere and asks me if I want to make a deal with her—I think it was for infinite wisdom or something. I told her, ‘No thanks, I’m good,’ and I push the boat back into the water. Enlightenment is more about the journey than the destination, really, and it wouldn’t mean anything if I didn’t earn it. . . The boat got caught in a whirlpool a few days later. I think it was the green lady’s fault. She said goodbye very ominously.”

the key takeaways from this one are these:

the Darklake is dangerous, and Shuushar exists in a world where it's just Normal for people to die. you accept it. you move on. it is what it is.

he believes in the journey over the destination. the end does not justify the means.

he has a strong moral code and refuses temptation at every turn (you could play with this in your own campaign depending on how well your players take to him).

he is just a Weird-Ass Guy (affectionate).

foreshadowing for the green hag in the Darklake which I'm gonna present as an option to save Sarith (but at a COST, mwahahahaha).

#2: Funny Story, I Was Exiled

“I will warn you that I didn’t leave Sloobludop on the best of terms, really. Everyone was always moving, moving, moving with the land currents, but I just wanted to stand still for a minute. Ploopploopeen didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. . . Oh, Ploopploopeen? He was the archpriest of the Sea Mother—had just been promoted, and his first act was to tell me to never come back. Said I was a ‘bad influence’ or something, and that his daughter would get the wrong idea, watching me. . . I’m not mad about it. Love and fear, together, are a strange thing, and either one alone can drive people to do things they know in their hearts are wrong. Tost about by unseen currents. . . I wonder if he remembers me. I want him to know that I forgave him a long time ago.”

what this monologue was meant to convey:

foreshadowing, mostly. tryna set up Ploopploopeen's motives a bit better than in the module.

Shuushar has hidden depths! he's not some dumbass stoner (though I do try to portray him like he's constantly high, because I think it's funny), he has philosophy! and compassion! and an incredible ability to forgive those who have wronged him! he's a genuinely good dude!

the delivery of these really helped his character come across, tbh. (these ones were given during the session proper, not between via text chatting.) he's just spacey and--not monotone, exactly, but very level in his tone. he's calm. he's unshakeable. maybe your players will appreciate that, or maybe they'll find him annoying and want to stuff a rag into his mouth to get him to Shut Up. (and even that in itself can become compelling; I think we've got a bit of an in-joke developing that We Don't Let Shuushar Tell Stories.)

thanks for the ask, and I really hope this helped!! it was delightful getting to ramble about my own devious machinations, and I would be happy to chat further about my takes on each of the NPCs if you so desire :D

#screams from the void #dnd #oota #out of the abyss #road trip to hell #buppido #shuushar the awakened

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helloblobbyblobfish · 7 months

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The reader's screen

When The Reader awoke, he only had the tiniest memory of having been something else before. So, he took his sweet time to explore what he could do and what were the confines of the place he inhabited, until he remembered nothing and looked so neutral that you could not tell if he was using male pronouns out of an odd programming choice or because most civilizations respected more individuals in proud ownership of a Y chromosome.

The other individuals living inside were… interesting, was perhaps the word. Basim was secretive, Juno an obvious liar, and something deep inside was screaming at him to not tell her what he was about to see in The Calculations.

Not that The Reader had much to share, to his companions of misfortune, especially the three old women, ire and annoyance. He could read them better than anyone, even look into the past and restart to calculate from a previous point in the timeline, something none of them could do. But he lacked drive, interest, meaning to do anything with it.

That thing inside really liked the blond human, on the other hand. The Reader really did not see what was comforting for his tiny emotional part about a twitchy man who was calling for a Desmond that obviously did not end in The Grey. Basim was attempting to look comforting, but Clay hated Basim, saw through his much finer deceit that would have convinced The Reader. Called him a traitor to The Brotherhood.

Juno too seemed to hate The Brotherhood. That was when The Reader became curious for the first time.

So he looked at what The Brotherhood was. A group of killers that tied itself to Adam and Eve’s revolution. The Reader was baffled to see that a descendant of two synch important figures was the nearly despondent man named Clay Kaczmarek. The absence of that Desmond person was hurting him a lot.

In a form of Mercy, Basim and The Reader put Clay’s mind to sleep.

Juno was now interacting with a reincarnated Isu named Aita. If he had a human name, he was not using it, at least not in his interaction with his… wife? The emotional part of The Reader was shouting something, but the words had no meaning to The Reader.

They were planning on breaking her out. Talking about it with Basim, The Reader had the feeling the man also had something in place, but he was playing dumb.

The Reader did not understand. What was so interesting about having a body made of flesh, that would age? About power? About Knowledge? He did not want to leave The Grey, but he imagined it would get lonely if he was the only individual left. Juno liked to see the painful demise of some Assassins and Templars she hated on replay. What happened to the ones who had no one to trust, to talk to. It reminded The Reader of something he did not like.

He could awaken Clay from his slumber, he supposed, but Clay might be worse than no one, if his mental state did not improve.

So he went to search if he could get someone to join The Grey and want to stay.

It’s during this search that he learned of the existence of Desmond Miles.

A human who had died to allow The Grey to interact with human technologies. At first, The Reader thought he would have been a great companion, and then he saw that Desmond Miles had died forced by Juno and Minerva in a situation where nothing could go right for him.

He then reconsidered his stance and was thankful Desmond Miles was not trapped with Juno in The Grey. He felt his emotional side regret that Clay had to end without anyone he trusted.

Still, The Reader decided, if Desmond Miles died to save humanity, expecting The Brotherhood to stop Juno, he could see if Desmond’s hopes were founded. Given what he did for the inhabitants of The Grey, it was somewhat the polite thing to do. The results were… not encouraging.

Juno had done too much to even the rest of the Isu to win. If not Consus; Durga or even the mysterious Aletheia would help the humans defeat her. When she refused to escape in the body of a human Aita had gotten for her and that incarnation of Aita died, The Reader was not surprised. She had seen that she would not live long in this body.

However, for the first time in his short existence, the Reader was distracted. Aletheia’s intervention in some of the potential futures were oddly beneficial to Basim. Secretly, The Reader started to piece together what was HIS plan.

What he saw intrigued him a bit, for Loki was showing himself to be a skilled manipulator, but that mad schemes of his to be released by the human Layla Hassan was relying on many random events. The chances of her even meeting the misthia were of less than one in 5 billions, let alone getting to the radioactive temple in Norway.

Not certain how Basim was planning on pushing the odds, The Reader returned to his Calculations.

Now that he had a goal in mind, it was a lot easier to lose himself in the potential worlds. But he still could not find a timeline where humans would stop the next solar flare. What a waste of life for one Desmond Miles. His emotional side wept after the ten or so Calculation. The Reader was very confused by the attention he seemed to give to a human, albeit one with high Iso DNA. It was not like he cared about the two he lived with. The five he lived with? The Norns might be Isus, and they might be something like him.

While he had his back turned, Juno had contacted a group hidden inside both templars and Assassins, and they were planning to take the son of Desmond Miles, another Sage of Aita. Sage. The Reader scoffed at the ego contained in the title.

Still, while he did not feel great about the death of the Sage’s mother for a reason or another, he did not care much. Seeing the scene, he saw the burning need for revenge in the eyes of the young hybrid. A quick glance at the calculations showed him that Juno’s demise was almost guaranteed.

But unlike Basim, he was not one to leave elements to fate. He sent hints to The Brotherhood about Abstergo looking for a piece of Eden in the memories of twin Assassins.

They failed, as expected, but the death of Isabelle Ardant bolstered Juno and her followers, and Elijah was abducted in the week.

Now certain that Juno was not going to last long, The Reader noticed that Basim was also playing his own games, and poor Layla Hassan was being forced to rely on Sofia Rikkin, and the woman was taking after her father.

Not that Sofia thought it a bad thing. Given how lacking any redeeming quality, or any quality at all really, The Reader was finding the concept of family to be really underwhelming. He wondered for a brief instant what kind of father Desmond would have been. He quickly shut that train of thought for being irrelevant.

Instead, he saw that Layla Hassan had a one in 2 billion chance to meet Kassandra. Impressive.

There was an atmosphere of upcoming chaos inside The Grey, now that the two Isu were seeing their centuries of planning coming to fruition, and The Reader, who was starting to play with how he made The Grey look, proving itself superior to all of them, was making his own purpose.

Of course, that’s when Kaczmareck awoke. The way the calculations were acting raised him from his slumber. Seeing what Juno had done, he tried to hurt her. Had The Reader not intervened, she would have erased any remnant of his code.

Instead, to distract the human, The Reader tried to find someone Kaczmarek could look over. It seemed humans liked to take care of things. Of course, they often failed, Desmond Miles was a tragic exemple, and Clay Kaczmarek had new ways of causing chaos, in his odd state.

But at least he did not stand in the way of Juno’s demise or Basim’s scheming, so The Reader metaphorically patted himself on the back. Sofia Rikkin was in charge of a facility holding legally dead descendants of The Brotherhood. Once they escaped, with Kaczmarek being only able to do little to help while they were inside, Clay showed himself quite skilled at making the runaways not appear on cameras, and using circulation fires and other appliances to soften the life in the street.

The Reader was beyond annoyed that Kaczmarek let it be so obvious someone was helping those humans from afar, but he kept quiet and observed what Kaczamarek was doing so that, once Juno killed with the help of her husband latest incarnation, the son of the man she had tricked into releasing her, the little Sage could be unbothered by either Erudito or Abstergo’s agents.

Of course, with a powerful illusion artefact of Eden in Elijah’s hands, The Reader did not have as much to do to begin with. Not being obvious to such a paranoiac youth, however. That was not as easy as the entity had hoped.

Meanwhile, completely unbothered by the rest, Loki was observing what Layla Hassan was doing. She had gone behind Abstergo's back to observe the origins of The Brotherhood. Impressive. And that’s when, as he saw her comparing her search for knowledge to the need for revenge, that The Reader knew who would gladly accept to remain in The Grey if given a good subject to focus on.

And he was running into a wall at every turn in his search. What kind of scientist involved in the Templar-Assassin wars would refuse the possibility of succeeding where Desmond Miles, Assassin martyr amongst them all, a near-divine figure in the order and even its opponents not half a decade after the mortal’s demise, had failed?

When he put it that way to Loki, the reincarnated Isu was beyond thrilled. That way, she would not fight his attempt to leave her to die. Her chance to meet the Eagle Bearer was now 200 to one. She still had only a chance after that to find Eivor’s remains.

But with The Reader and Loki working together, it was very easy to get her to get a place on the Altaïr II.

Kaczmarek, that The Reader was starting to think of more and more of as Clay, once even Sixteen, as he saw the Assassins, asked him if he was Desmond. To The Reader’s surprise, he had taken on the silhouette of the only human he had ever respected. However, even if he almost heard a shout, he cut down the nonsensical “man”.

He was born in The Grey, he was one with it, and his, he loathed to admit it, slight affection for Elijah came solely out of interest in what the Sage was going to do now that he was the most important person on Earth.

Kaczmarek did not seem to believe it, and, as Victoria Bibeau died, her actions confusing The Reader to the very end, as she proved Aletheia’s influence but only by being as antagonistic to her own teammates as possible and paid for it with her own life, he found another family member to Desmond Miles.

The Reader was surprised by the feeling of anger at the large family Desmond Miles apparently had but was nowhere to be found during the years he hid away. He felt the need to point to himself that Desmond Miles was not passing off as himself during those years, and pointed out to Elijah’s growing group of subordinates he was creating as a proof that William Miles had been as his most effective as a father when his son was forced to fend for himself.

The idea made him understand the feeling of sickness, but he was even more confused by this reaction.

Looking disgusted at who made him feel that way, he saw Noa Kim. A South-Korean who had lived his entire life away from the Templar-Assassin conflict. An attempt at uniting Assassins bloodline William Miles had been part of before being called to the States. Miles hadn’t even been informed of the boy’s birth.

Seeing that, despite his “gamer” lifestyle, Kim had remained undetected thanks to a lack of interest in the games made on the grave of his ancestors’ grave, The Reader laughed.

As he explained to the confused Clay, that this youngster could have been the chosen Human-Isu hybrid to save the world with only a few tweaks of fate showed how useless the Calculations could be.

He looked at how Noa Kim would have done had he become Subject Seventeen of the Animus project. A grave mistake.

Seeing this not even ten year old child being so easily manipulated until the end reminded him of something, and there was a familiarity to the young lad’s history that felt familiar even if The Reader had decided to not look in detail to either Desmond Miles or Clay Kaczmerek’s lives.

And that’s when, with the mercenary dead, Layla Hassan hated by most and 22 % of chances of Loki escaping to the human world, that The Reader remembered the life of Demond Miles, or at least some of it. He… did not understand why he had felt most of the things he preached back then.

Seeing that his flesh had taken on a pink tone for a few seconds, Clay had looked at him with hope. Des-No. The reader did not have the heart to crush those hopes another time. He sent Clay into a nice dream where Desmond had not been a big failure.

At the very least, this whole debacle had reignited The Reader’s need to find a future in which the solar flare did not destroy all life for good.

And they were only six months, human time, until they saw if Layla Hassan would find the location of the temple.

How silly of them to think that the Grand Temple would be the biggest Temple the Isu ever created. How naïve they were to buy Minerva and Juno’s implication that the Isu were a united people, he thought bitterly.

But alas, even with his human mind on the task, he still could not find a way to save the Earth. No matter what he thought of, it would not be enough. For a short instant, he hoped the release of Loki would help, but whether the Isu found his children or not was inconsequential.

For the first time, however, he found a future he couldn’t predict. In the 34% chance Layla arrived, he wasn’t able to see what they would do. Unsure how that would work, he continued to try to find a way to alter reality so that he could live and still stop the 2012 solar flare.

In the meantime, he took over Clay as the one in charge of protecting the Madrid Facility Escapees. Callum Lynch almost immediately figured him out as another person behind the “screen”. He called The Reader “more mechanical.” If he knew…

Elijah was such a smart and beautiful boy, even if he took a bit too much after Aita for The Reader’s liking. The father was sad there was no way Elijah would know who his father was except if he got taken by The Brotherhood. But Desmond had looked at some of the Calculations. There were… too many possibilities as to how Elijah’s fate would shape if that happened. So he simply watched, and tried to help in invisible ways.

Noa Kim was much easier to take care of. No fear or suspicion in that boy. The Reader had a bit of a hard time calling him a man despite him being a legal adult. Too, -how to put it?- Trusting wasn’t a flaw, innocent was maybe the word, but Desmond hadn’t been innocent, and he was still a child back then.

In any case, tweaking the results at a clinical test, not hiding the flu virus but the familial genetic markers. Making certain the random games selected to be on remnant sale included the ones Kim liked, discreetly putting money in his account from Abstergo’s pocket. Life was. The Reader could not say it was good, but it was something, he supposed.

And then the Norns disappeared, and Loki left and Layla was indeed bringing the point of view he was missing. Desmond Miles had cared about saving everyone, but The Reader should have known it did not work that way. Now that he had someone who kept to their so-called humanity agreeing with his opinion, the shame was easy to absolve himself from.

Loki gifted them his DNA so that they could see what he went through. The Reader did not care, he could just see it at any given time, but Layla, poor Layla, still restrained to an extent by her previous life, like Clay, was intrigued.

Taking advantage of her distraction, he took a peak at what the rest had done of their life.

Had he got a stomach, he would have puked.

Kim had done a “what your origins are”-type test, and now, Abstergo had him.

He cut the camera of the room the experimentation was happening in and focused on he and Layla’s work. After all, with such a drastic alteration of the timeline, if they timed it just right, Noa Kim would never be captured by Abstergo.

He would just have to make sure his family survived.

Started reading the Assassin’s Creed Webtoon! And… I’m sorry, Why does Noa Kim have a bunch of the same origins as Desmond? I’m going for the AU because what the fuck is going with this animus where the person inside is pushed away by the complete synchronisation rather than… Okay, nevermind. Even the movie never made it clear how synchronisation works. That’s… Not how I expected it to work, but fine.

Still, that made me think? Does Desmond have a secret half-sibling? That is a bold move from Ubi, and so, this story came to me the day I read the first two chapters, about Desmond protecting his family from “beyond the grave”. Because I have no idea where the plot of the web-comic is going, it’s a one-shot for now.

And it ended up being more about The Reader period than the relation between Desmond and Kim. Oops.

As a Tron fan, I had to fight so hard to not put Isu in all capital or write Iso, it’s ridiculous.

Also, I knew my take on The Reader is darker than most; usually when I see him in fanfics he is trying to help Desmond/is Desmond with no problem, but I like to imagine he is definitively darker than that, and I doubt he has all his Desmond memories, or he would not entertain the idea of letting the 2012 flare happen at the end of Valhalla. However, that resulted in one heck of a sociopath lead once I finally could put my thoughts on him on paper.

And I don’t think THAT bad of Layla, but The Reader is very unreliable as a narrator and I do not think he would like anyone who has standards.

#Assassin's creed #desmond miles #character study #assassin's creed: valhalla #the reader #my writing

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phoenixyfriend · 2 years

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The King, the Soldier, and the Spy: Chapter 3

Read on AO3

In which our merry idiots fight, and possibly flirt.

-------------------------------

The role of Mand’alor has shifted, over the centuries.

It started with the Dral’Haan, of course, but it’s continued from there. By Jaster’s time, the role of Mand’alor was a mixture of political figurehead, spiritual representative, and the acting leader of the standing army.

Whether or not the Mand’alor worked with the actual, functioning government that the New Mandalorians had set up to do things like ‘provide education’ and ‘stop price gouging’ and ‘set up public transportation,’ really varied from ‘alor to ‘alor. Jaster, for instance, had been on good terms with the Duke. Mercenary work hadn’t exactly been what the bureaucratic leader would have preferred to see, probably, but Jaster’s take on how to be warriors with honor had been one that earned the Duke’s respect… or at least his grudging acceptance and willingness to collaborate.

As Mand’alor, Jaster had been the leader of their people in name only—unless a war with a foreign power broke out, which it hadn’t—and his primary role in the functioning of Mandalorian government had been limited. He had needed to give his approval to the current civilian leader, providing an avenue for more traditional warriors that wouldn’t get in the way of the civilians’ actual governing, and being the central leader for those who swore the Resol’nare.

Technically, it wasn’t mandatory for him to approve the current elected Duke or Duchess, but it sure as hell made everyone’s lives easier when he gave the thumbs up to Kryze running most domestic and foreign policy.

Jango, in comparison, has been… slacking.

He’s not big on politics. Jaster was, presumably, going to teach him that at some point, but Jaster had died when Jango was fourteen, so… he’s been a bit more preoccupied with keeping the faction afloat and alive. More recently, he still hasn’t been doing a whole lot of politics, but he’s been training up some of the defense corps that Kryze has agreed is necessary. Implementation of pacifism as a government policy and core social tenet is all well and good, but it doesn’t do much against pirates.

(That little princess of his is still learning nuance, but… well, she’s only twelve. Or thirteen? Something like that. Jango had been a bit of a shitheel at that age, too.)

The past two years have seen Jango trying to make those same overtures that Jaster had once made. The Duke has been willing. He’s also been incredibly annoyed that Jango hasn’t played his part and done his duty in the… six years prior to that.

The voicemails are prissy, and self-righteous, and technically usually correct. Jango hates them. He gives them to Myles.

Myles gives them back, with the interest rate of a slap upside the head.

The intraplanetary trouble is handled by Journeyman Protectors. They train their own, but have been regularly cut down in numbers with the trouble caused by Death Watch and similar rogue elements. Jango’s been asked to supplement them, but mostly to set up the system defense corps, which are… not technically a standing army, because the Duke would pitch a fit if he set one up, but a necessary martial element to keep people safe from outside forces.

It's worked so far, at least. The Duke’s got the infrastructure to collect taxes, and Jango does get a cut now that he’s playing nice instead of haring off and… well, doing what he was doing from ages fourteen to twenty.

It does mean he has to whip some troops into shape, though. That part is slow-going. Apparently, it’s frowned upon to make anyone under the age of fourteen cry. Or break bones for training. Sure, accidents happen, but uh…

Yeah. Jango’s childhood with Jaster was apparently not the standard. He takes this to mean that Jaster’s childhood was also not the standard. Cyclical or generational or whatever.

Duke Kryze keeps saying things about sending over psychologists, which uh. No. No thank you. Jango will take the list of guidelines for ‘age-appropriate activities for teenagers transitioning from a pacifist society with regimented self-defense training to a military-adjacent training program for large-scale defense work’ and there is no need to send the shrinks, your grace.

(Fuck’s sake, Jango accidentally called the man ‘uncle’ one time on a visit with Jaster, and suddenly there’s an interest in his welfare or some kark.)

When new recruits from the Evaar’ade show up, Jango is responsible for getting them up to snuff. They generally know how to defend themselves, but that’s all dodging and escaping, redirecting attacks so they can get away. It’s something, sure; they know how to keep their footing, how to keep fit, how to turn a fall into a roll. They can’t really shoot, though, and they don’t have the battle experience to keep their heads in a real fight. None of their simulations have taught them to work as a team.

So. Training. The Duke has a budget set aside for it, and that budget is now being fed to Jango and his merry band of trigger-happy morons—well, some morons and some wonderful jackasses who are too smart for their own good, thank you so much, Myles—to make sure the Evaar’ade-approved system defense corps are actually capable of doing their jobs.

The Evaar’ade send half-trained teenagers. Jango sends back battle-ready young adults.

“So what do you need from me?” Fulcrum asks.

Jango gestures up at the nearing transport ship. “Those New Mando brats—”

“How tactful.”

“—they’re going to cry,” Jango continues. “They always do, and it’s always my doing, because I yell at them until they behave.”

“Drill sergeant standard, got it.”

“I’d rather not make it happen the first day. Makes them have trouble settling in, and they’ll drag their feet getting unpacked if I scare them too much,” Jango says. “Usually, I get other people to do it. Silas volunteers, sometimes, since Myles never has the time. You, though—”

“What, you think I’m not scary?” She interrupts, almost cooing.

“I think you’re a Jedi, or close enough,” Jango snaps. “And they’ll be comforted to see you involved.”

She dips her head, batting her lashes at him. It’s a coy thing, the way she looks up at him. Mockingly simpering. “Can I be a drill sergeant, Mand’alor?”

What? “Why, and what do you get out of it?”

“Haven’t had the chance to properly train people in a long time,” she says. “I miss it.”

There are a wealth of questions to be asked about that. Jango doesn’t bother.

“Tomorrow at half-past ten in the morning, landing field, space 8,” he tells her. “Don’t be late.”

She smirks. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

(Continue on AO3)

#star wars #the clone wars #sw legends #time travel #ahsoka tano #jango fett #myles the mandalorian #true mandalorians #mandalorian politics #mandalore #phoenix files

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eclipsecrowned · 10 months

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Off of your latest posts, I'm putting down an uno reverse. Which of your ocs do you most want to ship? // anonymous

Cop out answer: All of them. I love exploring dynamics for all of my muses, but especially for my OCs. It helps bring a bit of legitimacy, for me, to their existence in an extant setting for those who belong to a fandom.

Cringe genuine answer: Below cut.

I fell back into W*steros hard, so I'm kind of champing at the bit to ship my three OCs.

Laerion, from the Dance era, kind of has a ship in an AU on discord, but nothing for his mainverse. And he'd be a great partner, a loving husband, someone who chugs his respect bae juice, who wants to share the whole world and all its wonders and beauty with the one he loves. He's beautiful, he's titled, and he's probably the most normal and fun guy in the entire shitshow of that era.

Mira, who I admittedly need to flesh out as a person before trying to trot her past the dash, but... She's always looking for a connection, even if not romantic. She's learned, affectionate, and excels at courtesies, all of which makes her wife material. But she also has a cold thread of pragmatism that can get her partner pretty far in life and politics. Add in she's a pretender to one of the biggest chunks of the Realm and well.. Whether love matches or political arrangements, I'd love to see what's out there for her.

I don't think I technically want to ship Lya, given her age, so much as I want to flesh out an endgame for her? I want to know what life looks like for her when she's grown. She survives the monsters in her life, she carves out a life for herself, she becomes more than her family. I wonder if that future includes someone who is there for her, and sees her as she is, and loves her for it. If she gets the soft ending and some of the domestic happiness she was denied given what her family is. Does she herself get to make a happy family in the future? It's not like. Her end all be all, but I think it could be a nice dash of flavor for her life after the war.

Other than that, I have a few muses I've never shipped I'd like to play around with:

Kayden Connors, who is always the wingman, never the GF. It's almost memetic at this point on discord. Like, my other six one six OCs? Vera gets with Ax's Eddie as the share GF of his open marriage with, well, you know. Raisa is married with two kids at this point. Kayden's there for so many ships for those around her but never really gets anyone herself. It's not for lack of trying, either. I just think Kayden should get to smooch, be sb's artistic and down to earth Goth GF. She should have someone to bring home to her dad when he finally makes parole :)

Mina Wakefield, who has backstory ships w Harley and potential ships w others, but nothing has sealed the deal! I want to see this woman kissed, whether that means getting back together with someone, finally making a move on someone, or someone surprising her with their interest. She's at a point in her life where she hit all her career and financial goals, and she's ready to settle into the domestic sphere. She wants the romance, the cohabitation, the commitment, and the kids, this woman wants to be a wife/partner and mom so bad omfg.

Merel van Breda, who prior to June actually never had a ship to her name. She is now in a polyamorous dynamic with a villain protagonist from her mainverse and his GF. Even so, I pine to see all the ways my girl can love and be loved. She's so young and deserves to have fun. I get she's ace-spectrum but also she's so into romance, so long as there's a good build-up to it.

Danae Spencer, who honestly is built for pre-established stuff. It doesn't even have to be for sure romantic. She had a bit of a sex-crazed party girl thing going for her in college until she got clean, and even after she's pretty sex-positive and loves it as a form of intimacy even with no strings attached. Besides that, she's loyal, diligent, flush with cash, and has a sexy accent. There would never be a dull moment with her, and time spent in the bedroom would be second to none. Be her ex, her former FWB, her new arm candy, her slow burn turning into something more than friendship or bodies.

Ogawa Yurie, legally barred from catching any feelings. In all honesty, her role at the temple depends on a certain level of devotion that her grandmother thinks will be sullied if she gets distracted by her peers. Grandma said no feelings allowed. I think it'd be cute for her to be involved in a mutual crush plot or something. I want her to have all those cute high school romcom tropes while still being an ass-kicking agent of good. Especially since literally any relationship she gets into will be by definition forbidden by her family.

#out of stories #anonymous

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ladyinbooks · 2 years

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are there any tropes or genres that you love and always come back to?

Oh ho! Lovely Anon, you've asked me a delicious question here! I'm assuming you're generally asking in terms of writing, but to be honest the same tropes I enjoy writing, I very much enjoy reading too.

So, I think it comes as no surprise to anyone, that there are definitely tropes I love and always come back to. I've tried to keep this as brief as I can but - well, we all know I like to ramble on!

Enemies to Lovers Completely unsurprising, I know, but I do love this trope. Love. It. However, I do tend to be more on the 'enemies who are lovers' side of things, rather than 'enemies to friends to lovers'. I like seeing how love works across boundaries; across moralities and socio-political divides. I also occasionally like to play around with how far, exactly, the trope can be pushed. (See: literally anything Hespherus Jones does.)

Which leads me neatly into...

Love As A Weapon I love, love, love mucking around with this idea. If I had to sum up a lot of my writing: for me it tends to be about dangerous people, doing dangerous things because of love. I really enjoy the concept of love-as-a-violence, by which I mean love being weaponised. This can be both against the main couple, between the main couple, and by the main couple against the obstacles they need to overcome. The concept of love as a dangerous thing is great fun to play around with, because for me I sometimes get oversaturated by the large amount of generic media that portrays love as something saccharine, and triumphant and good. Of course it can be all of those things! But I think it's sometimes nice to consider the awful things people are capable of doing too, in the name of love.

There Is No Top Less of a trope here, and more of character dynamics.

So, something I'm sure we have all bumped into at some point in our fandom lives is topping/bottoming discourse. The older I've got, and the longer I've been bouncing around different fandoms, the more I've come to realise that a lot of the traditional top/bottom shipping dynamics are just... not really interesting to me (and neither is the discourse). I'm talking here about both physical positions in sex, but also dynamics and behaviours of characters.

So, one of the things I really enjoy is writing about characters who sort of don't fit those dynamics. If they do stick to a particular physical role, it's because there's a reason for it. (See: Samiel Tremark and his desperate need to both display ownership and please at the same time.) So, in terms of romantic relationships between characters, I think for me switching (in both an emotional and physical sense) is something I enjoy writing about.

Standing Your Ground And in the same theme: I'm someone who enjoys strong characters. I can't always say my writing does this topic justice, but I really, really try to avoid 'woobifying' characters. (And you'll have to forgive my 'ye olde fandom slang' here, but it's such a satisfying descriptor). I want relationships between equals. I want friendships and dynamics between equals. I want characters to be able to stand their ground, even against someone they love and respect, and just not bloody have it if they think their counterpart is wrong. (See: Daniel Waters and his righteous rage issues.)

Blowing Up the Beginning One of my guilty favourite tricks, is to start a story in the middle. I think I've done this with... well, pretty much everything, so far. I'm not interested in the 'getting to know you' start of a story; I'm interested in dropping characters into the middle of a massive disaster, and then making them (and the reader) work backwards to find out what went wrong, and how things move forward. It's great fun to write, and it actually really, really helps in terms of world building. (Because it forces you to make damn sure you know a large amount about who your characters are, what they've done, and the world they inhabit, before you get started.)

Genres No surprises here, I'm sure! Sci-fi. I love Sci-fi. I love strange, alien worlds, and the freedom to create. Obviously my formative years included a bucket load of things like Star Wars, Dr Who, Star Trek etc., and what they taught me was this:

You can make it all up. All of it.

I think a lot of the time now, there's pressure to create 'realistic' sci-fi, but I came from a background of consuming media that literally didn't. I mean: 'Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey' as an explanation on time travel? Fine. Why not? Why not have a time travelling machine that looks like a battered old police box? Why not have a group of warrior monks with laser swords, who use this mystic thing called 'The Force' and essentially create space magic?

Sci-fi gives you the freedom to create fantasy, and put it in space. And add space ships. What's not to love?

Fantasy is my other go-to genre, and largely for the same reasons. If my sci-fi consumption was a diet of television shows in space, my fantasy consumption was books, books and more books. (Keeping in mind that until Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy was released, fantasy as a medium in film and television was not having a drastic impact all over the world.)

So, I have to be fair: I gobbled up literally anything Terry Pratchett put his hands to. Anything. I love his ability to create fantasy and make it real. I love the way his characters inhabit and breathe and live the worlds they are born into. Sam Vimes? Granny Weatherwax? They taught me that no matter how extravagant a fantasy plot or setting is, if you don't have characters you believe in, then you're not going to enjoy the journey, and that is the key to fantasy for me.

I also tend to just... read so many fantasy books. Good, bad, forgettable, terrifying. Fantasy for me is a wonderful excuse to remove yourself from the day to day, and go on an adventure somewhere new!

I'll leave it there for now, but thank you so much for this question lovely Anon! I hope I've answered it a little, and I've had great fun thinking about this, this evening! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#lady replies

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avatarvyakara · 2 years

Text

Trying something else—but I could really, really do with a read-through to make sure I’m doing it right. To any and all who might give me some advice on Chinese family histories as told by said families, I would greatly appreciate your assistance.

That said, here’s a start.

***

Ruzhui, it’s called. “Superfluous entrance”.

His name was Zì Jīn, not that long ago. Jīn as a name, even a personal name, is not uncommon. Zì, as any kind of name, most certainly was.

Great-Aunt Shí used to sit with him and tell him stories about a past he isn’t sure anyone could really remember, not as far back as she goes. Zi is a rare name, she told him, a name that belonged to the second family ever to rule as emperors—the first, to be honest; nobody knows whether the Xia were truly real, not really. The story of the Shāng Dynasty, and the Zi family who provided their rulers, is a story older than the Flowerlike Beauty, older than the Celestial Empire, as old as the Middle Kingdom itself. Oh, others would take over later, true, and some would scatter and hide under other names—Jì and Yīn and Kōng (yes, like the Teacher—the one his classmates kept mispronouncing as Confucius). But they kept their name. It grounded them. Fewer and fewer sons were born—fewer and fewer carried on the name as three and a half thousand years of history passed them by.

But born they still were.

To be a Zi means being calm, peaceful, stoic, but not uncaring. The eternal grandfather, too old to command but old enough to command respect, content to play with the grandchildren as they have their games of war and politics like they’ve done since the only writing done was on the burnt bones of animals in the hope that the past could command the future.

“Lee”, by contrast, is one of the most popular names around. There are a hundred million Lees. At least.

When Jin asked Great-Aunt Shí about the name, while they cooked together, she snorted and tried to brush it off. It wasn’t important that she tell him, he didn’t need to hear it from her. It wasn’t too big a deal. It was a tactic that had served her well with five prior generations of Zì, including that of her brother, Jīn’s grandfather.

Jin found a way, when he was younger, of getting around that particular blockade. It was through being very patient, very calm, keeping up with the work, and annoying the heck out of his favourite relative with the unrepeated question while doing so. She didn’t need to hear it again and again, she just knew he wanted to ask but wouldn’t because it wouldn’t be polite. And yet.

She finally huffed and told him that yes, there was a history to the Lee family as well. Or, rather, a mythology. Certainly there may well have been Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors prior to any history. Certainly, Emperor Yao may well have had a minister called Gao Yao who was the potential progenitor of that promise-less pedigree. Certainly Laozi (whose philosophies Great-Aunt Shí had a famously complicated attitude towards) may well have been called Li Er when people couldn’t be bothered with proper titles. Certainly there was a House of Li by the Táng Dynasty, a certain number of millennia later—although historically speaking that was hardly a selling point. (Jīn, who had done his best to learn what history he could, had one or two positive opinions on that particular dynasty that apparently weren’t too popular at home.) But the story that his aunt insisted was the most prominent one was that of Li Zheng, executed by one of their ancestors, whose wife and son lived on nothing but plums for years and who changed how their name was written to honour the fruit that kept them alive.

A fun story. (One that shunted their family centre-stage again, but a fun one.) But who remembers that, said his Great-Aunt Shí, among a hundred million people? Being a Li was as common as being a Smith over in the English-speaking world, to her mind. Maybe there was a history, but who among the descendants actually bothered to remember it?

Actually, that might have been part of what drew him to Míng in the first place.

The Zì family might predate every other family back home, but coming to Toronto in the 1970s? They were just one more face in the crowd. But the Lee family—Ming Lee’s family—had been there for generations. Against all odds, they had prospered. In a city where a different empire’s architecture dominated the biggest buildings, they had built a temple to an ancestral figure and kept it safe for generations. Literal generations. (…three, in point of fact, but who was counting?) And perhaps out of deference to that ancestor, the Lee family didn’t much care who your own ancestors were, just what you chose to do with your life now. If you weren’t a Lee of their line, anyway.

And Míng…

“My family is the absolute—” followed by a word he doesn’t know but which sounds a lot like “four enemies”— “worst.”

And a toss of hair that he’s absolutely certain wasn’t red last week.

Míng has a history of her very own.

TO BE CONTINUED

#fanfic #turning red #ming lee #jin lee #Jin x Ming #(why is this not a tag)#family history #trying to make this actually work #I have no idea if it’s the *right* way to make it work #it might not be #hence asking for help #please #chinese culture #chinese history

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strawberri-elixir · 6 months

Text

— Under The Stars — ~ M. Fushiguro ~

╰⇢ In which you’re invited to a party hosted by your best friend and unintentionally capturing the attention of one of the attending guests

Requested: This lovely request!

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Contents: Cute little fluffy one-shot, Royalty AU, background ship if you really squint

A/N: Does not follow the plot of JJK. I love when people send me requests! So thank you so much to the lovely person who sent it! Enjoy!

"As you know, Kugisaki-san is hosting a ball to celebrate her coming of age." Your butler, Sano, held out an invitation. Your name printed in Nobara's pretty cursive writing.

"I look forward to attending. When is it?" You take the letter, carefully removing the wax seal that displayed your friend's family crest.

"If the information given to me is correct, it will be hosted tomorrow night. Since they're a neighboring kingdom, a trip by carriage should only take a few hours assuming there are no complications.”

"Very well then, I better prepare, shouldn't I?"

So you spent the following day in town, hoping to find the perfect gift for your friend. You'd known her for as long as you could remember, so everything needed to be perfect for her.

In the end, you found exactly what you were looking for. Now all that you needed to do was get dressed and get to the party.

"I'll be accompanying you to the ball, if that's alright with you, your highness." Sano held open the door for you.

"That would be wonderful." You smile, taking your seat in the carriage.

"Thank God you're here!" Nobara hugged you as soon as she saw you walked through the large set of doors. "My parents won't leave me alone about finding a suitor."

Most royal families want their children to find a partner from other kingdoms to form alliances. And since Nobara has finally come of age, her parents are trying to find her a suitable prince. And what better excuse to throw an elaborate party than this?

"I remember when my parents tried that." You laugh.

"Exactly! Come on! I need an excuse to get away from my parents." She pulls you along towards the side. "And I want to introduce you to some friends."

You continued to let her pull you through the crowd as she pulls you over to a corner where you see a few familiar faces. Yuji Itadori, a prince from a kingdom known for having incredible offensive capabilities. They're the ones you'd want to ally with if you were going to war.

Beside him, Maki Zenin, the eldest in her family and heir to the throne. Rumor has it, she has a lover, but nobody has ever confirmed it. But with the way she rejects every attempt at courting, the rumors might as well be true.

"So this is Maki, Yuji, and Megumi." She finished the introductions with a finger pointing to a dark haired male.

"It's nice to meet you!" Yuji gave your hand a polite kiss.

"Likewise." You bow your head.

You give a respectful nod to the Zenin heir, turning your attention back to Nobara, and then to the boy with dark blue hair who looked rather uninterested as he scanned the crowd at all the guests who were happily chatting.

"Well me and Maki are going to get something to eat." Nobara placed a hand on your shoulder, her other arm linked with Maki's. "We'll be right back."

She walked away, leaving you alone with the two princes.

"I'm pretty sure my father's looking for me." Yuji gives you an apologetic look before walking off into the crowd.

Nevermind. Now it was just the two of you. It was rather awkward, standing at an odd distance, looking around at everyone happily chatting away.

You continue standing there, swaying back and forth on your two feet. How were you going to get out of this situation? You were planning ways to excuse yourself without being mean when you hear music start playing.

"Err- would you care to dance?" You see a hand being held out in front of you.

You look up and see Megumi awkwardly staring at you, hoping to get everything over with. It was obvious to anyone with a pair of working eyes that he didn't want to be there. And you definitely didn’t want to embarrass yourself with your dancing, but it would look even worse if you declined.

"Sure. I'd love to." You put on a small smile, accepting his extended hand.

He nodded and led you into the crowd forming in the center of the room. The music grew louder as everyone found their partners and started swaying to the beat. You felt his arm wrap around your waist as you rested your arm on his.

The two of you fell into a rhythm as the music finally set its course. You enjoyed dancing with others, and this time was no different. Megumi held your hand in a firm manor he led you through the motions with him.

"Ow." The boy let out a small murmur as your pointed heel dug into his foot.

"I'm so sorry!" You stumbled. Dancing was never your strong suit, but you tried your best. "Please forgive me."

"Don't worry about it." His steps never faltered.

He continued guiding you through the motions as the song came to a close. The people around you clap as the dancing stops. You look up at the boy, out of breath from all the dancing.

"Thanks for dancing with me. I had a lot of fun." You smile at him.

"Mhm." He nodded at you.

"I'm just... going to take a breather outside. It's rather warm in here."

You make your way to a set of doors that took you outside to the back gardens. The gentle summer breeze blows through your hair, effectively cooling you down. You walk down the steps, strolling through the garden.

As you walk, you hear another set of footsteps behind you, seemingly getting closer. You turn around to see Megumi following behind you.

“To what do I owe you the pleasure this time?” You slow down to allow him to catch up to you.

“I thought you might like some company.” He walks beside you.

“Yeah? And why else?” You give him a knowing look.

“…” He pauses. “I needed an excuse to leave.”

The fact that you were able to read him that easily surprised Megumi. Not many people were able to look past his blank face, aside from the few friends who had left him alone with you earlier. He went silent again, just walking with you as you got further and further away from the party.

“I see. It was rather crowded in there.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah.” The two of you stop under a gazebo.

“So… how do you know Kugisaki?” You try making small talk.

“Through Itadori.” He said flatly. Not much of a talker, joy. Well, at least you had someone to keep you company, so you couldn’t complain. “And you?”

“Our kingdoms have been allies for generations. So it’s only natural we get along.”

You think back to all the fond memories you have with Nobara by your side. She’s always been there. Even if it’s not physically, she always finds a way to support you.

When Megumi didn’t answer after, you assumed the conversation was over.

Until he spoke up again.

“What do you want your kingdom to look like after you inherit the throne.” He asks.

“I like that question.” You smile, looking up at the moon in thought. “I’d like for my kingdom to prosper like any other ruler, but I’d also like to have strong ties with neighboring kingdoms to be able to aid each other in times of need.”

Megumi watched your every movement as you continued to describe what your plans were for the near future. Each new detail only furthering his interest in you.

“I know it sounds rather bland, but I truly do hope that I can lead my kingdom to a better future.” You sigh.

“It’s not bland at all, it’s actually rather admirable. I know plenty of people who wish for power and wealth above all else.” He reassured you.

“Oh- well, thank you.” You smile, looking back up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly around the moon.

The breeze gently blows through the hollow structure, sending a shiver down your spine. Curse you and your sleeveless dress. You stand there shivering when you feel a warm material cover you.

"You'll catch a cold." The boy beside you placed his jacket over your shoulders.

"I'll be alright." A small smile tugs at your mouth. "We better head inside soon."

"Yeah.” He offers his hand once again.

You smile, accepting his extended hand once again and he helps you down the stairs. You walk side by side back into the ballroom where you see Nobara having a conversation with Maki.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk with me!" You give Megumi a polite curtsy before turning away and making your way over to Nobara.

He watched you walk away, taking note of every little detail, the way you carried yourself, your smile, the way you acted towards others. Everything about you just drew Megumi in.

"So? What do you think?" Yuji elbowed him. "I've never seen you so interested in someone before."

"Shut up." The dark haired boy avoided eye contact.

No words were spoken, but in that moment, Megumi knew. If a question about marriage ever arose again between him and his parents, he would finally have an answer for them.

~ Please don’t repost on other platforms! ~

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x you #strawberri-elixir

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nalanzu · 1 year

Text

Weiss Kreuze Episode 13: Bruch

So we've reached the halfway point of the series. We get a brief recap of Omi's family drama, and from the title the heavy drama isn't slowing down any time soon.

We do get the lovely sight of Takatori beating the shit out of Schuldig and Farfarello with a golf club for killing his daughter. Crawford redirects his rage to Weiss, which works incredibly well despite Schuldig having literally fired the gun.

The cases of the week aren't going to stop either, as we see a para-military type by a burning warehouse followed by a news report of a military base being broken into. Weiss, however, is more worried about the fact that there is a telepathic assassin who knows who they are. Ken and Yohji think it's time to fuck off into the sunset. Aya, of course, is still hellbent on revenge and will hear no talk of breaking up the team.

Omi and Persia have a conversation in a lovely cemetery off the bay, in front of Ouka's grave. Omi has come to the conclusion that Aya is right and Takatori must be stopped. They're interrupted by the man himself also showing up to pay his respects to his late daughter, but before we get the fallout of Takatori potentially recognizing Omi, we're going to rturn to the case of the week.

On the news, the stolen military weapons have been used to commit acts of domestic terrorism, which have been signed Weiss. Our heroes, of course, are furious that their name has been slandered. Not that anyone outside Kritiker knows who Weiss is, but they're still pissed about it. They do, of course, recognize that it's Takatori's assassins who are behind these shenanigans, and Kritiker takes the very reasonable step of not sending Weiss directly into the very obvious trap. Weiss does not appreciate this concern, especially Aya, who just wants to murder Takatori Reiji and will straight-up leave Weiss and Kritiker to do it.

Just in case it's not already clear, we get to see a soot-stained Schuldig cackling at news of the bombings. He doesn't want to reveal their identities to the public, either, he wants to play with them and so does Farfarello.

Manx and Persia think they're being watched, as the election approaches, and Persia - the police commissioner - arrives for a meeting with Takatori - vice prime minister. Takatori wants Persia to deal with this rogue group, Weiss, who is rampaging around the city. Or, he says smugly, is there some reason the commissioner doesn't wish to address the issue? They are playing very ridiculous cat-and-mouse. Persia's counter is a military special forces group that Takatori had formed while he was apparently in charge of the defense force (I - I'm not sure how politics work but I don't think this is it). It has gone AWOL. They clumsily dance around the idea that this AWOL special forces unit is Takatori's secret army before Takatori asks what he really wants to know, which is who Omi was. All he gets out of it is that he's Ouka's friend, an obvious lie.

Omi, in the basement, is trying to figure out what to do about the terrorists. Aya is cranky and accuses him of spying. Omi is also cranky and lets it slip that Persia is his uncle. More Omi family drama incoming, my friends.

Aya, who has zero chill, immediately runs off to threaten Persia for the terrible crime of being a Takatori and not letting Aya murder his nemesis. He gets a gun to his temple, courtesy of Manx, and demands to be sent out on a mission immediately. Not only does he have no sense of chill, he has no sense of strategy or timing. When he doesn't get what he wants, he threatens to take his toys and go home, by which I mean he threatens to quit Weiss. Persia reminds him that the only reason his sister's medical bills are being paid are because Kritiker, his employer, is paying them. Aya's only answer for this is that he's not going to take orders from a Takatori. Oh, Aya.

This entire conversation, by the way, was observed by a shady government-type in a suit and sunglasses.

The next terrorist attack involves more explosives, killing multiple people. Persia still doesn't want to send Weiss into an obvious trap. Manx points out, quite reasonably, that they can't just keep doing nothing, even if their opponent is military special forces. I can't help but feel that there's a middle ground between Do Nothing and Send Weiss To Handle The Terrorists. I'm pretty sure that middle ground is Collect Information And Develop A Plan. Nobody on the show agrees with me, though, and they're just going to point Weiss at the problem and say, Fix it.

Aya, meanwhile, is having flashbacks of the day his sister was run over and being told that she would almost certainly be braindead and comatose forever. I have some thoughts about quality of life here. we get a dramatic scene of Aya folding an earring into her hand, while he wears the other one of the pair. Back in their assassin basement, Omi has tracked the location of the terrorists probably, and everyone but Aya is set to go kill some dudes. Omi tells them Aya has quit the group, although he really has no solid basis for this.

Instead of going straight to the dramatic fight, we get another flashback to the night sister!Aya was hit by a car and a scene of them at a festival. It kills the pace entirely. Just kills it. Kills the pace and the mood. We learn that the two of them found their parents dead on the floor at home, suffocated by gas, and Aya notices the gas and a tiny bomb right before the house explodes. Aya, trapped in the wreckage, watches as his sister is run over after she escaped the house. We also learn that Aya's father was suspected of having participated in an embezzlement scheme, so the gas leak is possibly suicide, according to the papers. Ah, the plot is thicker than we have been led to believe.

Aya, of course, is absolutely convinced that his parents were murdered. There is a cute bit with the earrings, which sister!Aya bought at the festival, and Aya vows revenge. He gives his sister the one earring, which she has apparently been holding for years (what hospital staff member is going to leave the earring in her hand? omfgggggggggg), and puts the other one on. Did he just pierce his ear with the earring? The fuck, Aya.

We finally get back to the present, where Weiss attempts to sneak into the very obvious trap and is immediately caught by the terrorists with a giant floodlight. Good job, guys. Aya, for his part, sees Takatori's car driving down the road and leaps on top of said car. He attempts to stab Takatori through the roof of the car, with his sword, and all he is going to do is ruin the damn sword. Takatori isn't even IN the car, it's Crawford being smarmy.

So we've got 3/4 of Weiss running away from rocket launchers and Aya facing off against Crawford's gun and Farfarello's knives. Manx, in a car with Persia, thinks the fact that Aya isn't with the group is affecting their performance. Guys, I do not think that's the problem. That is really, really not the problem. Persia is also aware that his brother knows about his little side project courtesy of the spy from earlier.

With the kind of dramatic timing we expect from this show, Takatori calls Persia to gloat about almost certainly being elected Prime Minister in the election the next day (weren't there noises being made a couple episodes back about supporters he absolutely needed to win the election being murdered by Weiss? istg), but also to say that he knows who's behind the terrorist group, Weiss. He threatens Persia with Consequences as soon as he wins the election.

I feel that, with reasonable people, this would just be giving Persia warning and enabling him to prepare and develop a strategy. We have seen, however, that despite apparently successfully running a paramilitary shadow organization of spies and assassins, Persia has zero concept of strategy and he's not going to do anything useful with this information. As expected, Persia concludes that the best course of action is to go find Aya. Just. No. A prettyboy ball of rage with a pointy stick and no sense of perspective is not going to solve your problems, Persia.

Also, several episodes back, we had a whole-ass scene with A Kritiker Agent who had been set to watching Masafumi who turned up mutated and dead. This clearly indicated that YOU HAVE MORE PEOPLE THAN WEISS. Why the fuck are you not mobilizing them? Why?

Aya, meanwhile, is getting his butt kicked by Crawford's ability to see where he's going to strike and just step out of the way. It's pretty funny, honestly, although Crawford is incredibly smug about the whole thing. Crawford tells Aya it's pretty sad that he can't see the future. Aya snarls that you're not supposed to see the future, you're supposed to make it. To be fair, that's a pretty good line.

Weiss is not doing well facing off against rocket launchers and helicopters, what with not having any ranged weapons except for Omi's darts, and Ken may or may not have a broken leg. We end the episode on Farfarello pointing a stabby weapon at Aya's face.

Honestly, for all of my bitching, this is a pretty fun episode. Nobody is acting reasonably. Nobody. The actions one would expect to be taken given the circumstances that must exist due to what's been laid out in the plot are not taken. There is a hyperfocus on the men in Weiss despite the fact that Kritiker has been stated to be a larger organization. Nobody understands that information is a valuable commodity. It's incredibly juvenile storytelling as it gets into details that were previously only implied and absolutely fails to create any sort of cohesive or believable narrative.

I have no idea why it's still somehow a lot of fun. Honestly, it's entirely possible that I just like yelling at the television that the problem they actually have is not the problem they think they have and either way Aya is 100% not the solution.

#meta commentary #episode summary #weiss kreuz

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alienisticxo · 1 year

Note

For the fanfic ask! 🛠 🙋‍♀️🤗🤲

thank you for the ask!! 🥹🖤

🛠️— i use google docs to write my fics! i also really only write them on my phone. 😅 i know that’s kind of insane, but for some reason my fingers just move faster with texting and i can access the doc from anywhere that way, even though i write them from like midnight to 3AM just laying in bed with my headphones in and some inspiring tunes playing (mostly Let Go x Ark Patrol and the Halo/Interstellar soundtracks). 🤣 occasionally i’ll use my laptop and listen to lo-fi, but it’s rare these days.

🙋‍♀️- only a few people in real life know that i write fan fiction— my best friend, my boyfriend and one other friend. i’m pretty sure that’s it.

🤗— advice to new fanfic writers just getting started…. hmm…

just do it. (nikeTM) lol. like i know it’s easy to get caught up in “what if no one likes my pairing, what if people think it’s stupid, what if my writing isn’t up to par,” etc. when i first started actually posting my fics years ago, i thought people would say mean things or laugh at me for the crazy ideas i had, or that i would never be able to compare to some of the more seasoned writers and thus no one would read my fics… how wrong was i! i’ve learned you’ve just gotta get past that and write what you love. the rest comes with it! there’s a lid for every pot. so maybe you don’t use words like “contumacious” or “recalcitrant,” maybe you’re more casual or more intense, but that’s literally okay! everyone has their own style of writing, and you will find your crowd. while it is obviously very nice to receive praise, don’t get caught up in stats either. there are more often than not people who will read and adore your fics and never once say anything to you or give any indication of their existence. (take it from me, i used to be one of these people.)

we are here to have fun and share ideas, find others who enjoy the same things we do, and to write what makes us happy and in turn make others happy with our stories! we as readers can also tell when someone really loves what they’re writing and is having fun doing it. my biggest “tell” is when i’m editing my own chapters. if i find myself grazing through it or waiting for a specific part, i’m almost positive my reader is probably doing the same. i always make sure to sit on it and go back later for editing until i know i’m enjoying it. love what you write first and foremost, because that’s far more appealing than writing for clout or without heart.

one more thing— don’t push yourself to write when you aren’t feeling it. as much as we “can’t wait for the next chapter!!!” people are also very understanding about needing time to recharge the batteries. if you wanna abandon a fic, don’t be scared to do so either. life’s wild, so is writing. sometimes it just isn’t panning out. you may never touch it again, or you might come back in 10 years with a whole new perspective and an idea to finish, and pick up a whole new crowd, and probably still have old readers still hanging around!

okay. sorry for that entire novel— but these were things i didn’t realize before and definitely wanted to enlighten anyone else who’s afraid to give it a go!

🤲 — i would love to share a snippet of a WIP!

here is a v small excerpt from my Kismet Master Chief x Reader series!! (if you missed it, you can read the one shot that inspired it from the masterlist in my description ♡)

———

But the 117 at the far left end caught my attention. I recognized his green armor, the matte black material beneath it. I remembered that particular number becoming quite a threat to my own soldiers at one point in time.

Ghashank’o, demon, we called him. He had quite the reputation.

He would come in handy.

“I remember you, demon,” I allowed a knowing smirk to slide across my lips.

“Caelestis,” 117 spoke with a slight bow of his head, his tone clear and polite despite my name for him. “We come to you with nothing other than peace and respect.”

“I would hope so, seeing as we’re on the same side of the battle this time around.”

“It seems we are,” he responded.

———

*** caelestis is a word i chose for a royal type of title within the covenant realm 🥹

this was fun!! sorry for being so wordy!! 😅

#writing advice #fanfic #fanfic advice #fanfiction #asks #kismet snippet #master chief x reader

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

What Is Love?

Pairing: Gojo x reader (Main), Nanami x reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Rape, Sacrilegious, God Complex and Delusional Gojo, Somnophilia, Slapping, Choking, Humiliation, Coercion, Non-Con Infidelity

Summary: Gojo learns what love is and unfortunately, you're the object of his newfound affection.

A/N: Thank you as always for beta-ing @sawamooora and dedicating this to my dear @lets-go-datehoe. Thank you for sending this request, Yuli~

Love? Gojo Satoru doesn’t believe in love. Love is for hopeless, lonely souls. Love is for miserable pathetic wretches desperate to fill an emptiness in their hearts, in their lives.

When everyone in the world is already falling head over heels to serve him, to be with him, when he's given everything he's ever wanted and more on a silver platter, why would he need love?

Gojo Satoru is already at the top of the world, with or without love.

Now lust? Gojo understands lust.

Carnal pleasure is never unwelcomed and unlike his elders, his head isn’t shoved so far up his ass to deny that he adores the feeling of his cock inside a slobbering mouth, a sopping wet cunt, an exquisitely tight ass.

But more than that, his arrogance and ego thrives and swells as women throw themselves at him, the feeling of being desired only fueling the prideful monster inside of him, only fueling his borderline delusion.

Of course everyone wants him. He’s Gojo Satoru after all.

And so he lets himself be worshipped, lets woman after woman praise him, reveling in the way they chant his name like a prayer as he returns their devotion with thick sticky white blessings. He smirks at the way they kneel before him, staring up at him in reverence, their pretty mouths and throats stretched wide across his cock.

Gojo Satoru is a god, and gods do not chase after mere mortals. So when he meets and you barely give him the time of day other than a polite bow, he shrugs his shoulders.

You’re just another disbeliever. Another silly lamb he needs to convert. Nothing more. Nothing less. Definitely nothing to get worked up about.

It’s almost amusing how you’re playing hard to get, sinning by spitting such crude and crass remarks at a deity like him every time he tries to speak to you. And it’s almost infuriating how you turn your nose up at him, as if you’re qualified to have an opinion of him, let alone think of him as beneath you. But he hides the pleased smile on his face when he sees your gaze linger just a tad too long to be mere coincidence the first time he reveals his eyes to you, a look of awe slipping past your scowling countenance.

See? They all come around eventually.

And so he lays it on thicker, draping his tall figure over yours, letting his warm breath grace the back of your neck, murmuring coy words in your ear. His long fingers find themselves tangling in your hair, brushing against your hands, touching every part of you as much as he can get away with.

You’re so close. He can feel your walls slowly crumbling away, can see the unsureness in your eyes as you half heartedly nudge him away after unconsciously leaning into his touch. Just a little more…

Except something, or rather someone, stops him.

Gojo Satoru isn’t usually caught off guard, especially not by the likes of Nanami Kento. The ex-salary man is a good man, but just a man nonetheless, no matter how you dress it up. But Gojo grudgingly admits at least surprise, if not something more, when he hears you’re in Tokyo and decides to pay your apartment a visit, only to find the Grade 1 sorcerer’s tongue shoved down your throat, your naked bodies entangled in rumpled bed sheets.

He tells himself it’s just a one night stand...maybe a friends with benefits relationship at most when he happens to catch both of you holding hands in broad daylight, a carefree smile he’s never seen before stretched across Nanami’s face as he sits at a cafe table with you, watching you happily munch on some pastry his underclassman has purchased for you.

Nothing he can’t handle.

But if you were a bitch before, a snarling ferocious wildcat whenever Gojo was around, you’re even worse now. Your apathy, the nonchalance with which you politely smile and nod in acknowledgement at Gojo before promptly ignoring him for the suited man by your side, gets under his skin like nothing ever has before. For once, Gojo is at a loss.

Ahh, so this is what denial feels like. This is the rejection and emptiness that he’s seen drive others to madness. This is love.

Gojo Satoru experiences his first heartache, but he doesn’t break down into pitiful sobs, he doesn’t mope around in self-pity.

He laughs.

He’s lost the battle, but he hasn’t lost the war. And when others would have turned tail and fled, he stands his ground, icy blue eyes sparkling in glee at the prospect of a new challenge, the prospect of his sweetest victory yet.

Gojo Satoru is a dangerous man. You know that with all your heart and soul, so it only makes sense that your hackles raise anytime he’s in your proximity. Maybe you take it too far, disrespecting your senior to an extent that would bring shame to you if it were anyone other than the Special Grade sorcerer. But in hindsight you’ll wish you did more.

You’ll wish you hadn’t caught the attention of the world’s strongest sorcerer. You’ll wish you hadn’t found yourself mesmerized by his sheer power, by those damning, dazzling eyes. You’ll wish you hadn’t begun to be ensnared by his allure, a trap you’ve heard the consequences of far too often from your heartbroken and weeping fellow female sorcerers. Maybe you’ll even wish you had just let him have a taste of you, use you before tossing you out like trash, like every other woman who’s fallen in bed with him, instead of whetting his appetite only to deny him of his feast, only to have him fixate on you even more.

But like Gojo, you know love and lust are two different things. And when Nanami shows up in your life, like a knight in shining armor, you feel Gojo’s spell on you shatter, your heart fluttering and thawing the ice that had begun to creep up your body, trapping you in endless blue.

Love is blinding, and really, you should have known that normal boundaries don’t exist in Gojo’s world. But your adoration for your lover has you hesitantly, but politely, letting the cheerful sorcerer into your shared home with Nanami — even though your boyfriend is overseas for a mission, not due back for at least another week.

It would be a lie to say you’re completely relaxed and fine with the circumstance you’re in, alone with Gojo Satoru with no chance of anyone being able to help you if something were to happen. But for whatever reason, Nanami respects the man, even considers him a friend, and in turn you feel an obligation of sorts to at least be cordial. And besides, Gojo isn’t a good man, but he’s not a bad man…right?

You find it difficult to believe that Gojo didn’t know Nanami was out of town, that his pout is sincere when you tell him that Nanami won’t be back anytime soon. There are only so many Grade 1 sorcerers in Tokyo and even less that Gojo actively keeps in touch with. But what’s the alternative? Believe Gojo came to see you? Unlikely.

Gojo is a womanizer, a slut, whatever other word you want to use. But a homewrecker? Especially of a dear friend? Never. (Frankly, you think it would just be too much of a bother for the emotionally stunted man.)

And you’re glad to see that your theories are proving to be true as the night continues, wondering if maybe the white-haired man is just lonely.

He’s strangely pleasant as he keeps a respectable distance from you, no suggestive comments spewing from his mouth, even his obnoxious arrogance kept to a tolerable low. You feel your guard drop, your smiles feeling more natural, genuine laughs slipping past your lips as he tells you about his latest adventures and missions.

But as a yawn interrupts your conversation and you stare askance at how late it is before urging him home to get some rest, apologizing for keeping him so long, your heart drops as you feel an overwhelming presence caging you against your living room couch, long limbs on either side of your body.

“What do you see in Nanami that you don’t see in me?”

The question is so jarring you almost forget the panic rising in your chest, mouth moving soundlessly as you try to process the meaning of his words. But instead of an answer, all that bubbles out of you is a shaky plea for him to leave.

Gojo’s never been good at following orders or commands. Why would he be? Since when has a god ever needed to listen to mortals? And you’re no exception.

You whimper as you’re suddenly transported to the bedroom you share with Nanami, struggling to no avail as Gojo easily tears your clothing off, positioning you on all fours in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates the corner of the room. Bile rises in your throat as he takes his blindfold off, blue eyes seemingly piercing your soul even through just a reflection and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to imagine you’re anywhere but here, with anyone other than him, trying to grasp at every fond memory you have of your blonde lover. But Gojo has a point to make and you gasp, eyes snapping wide open as a large hand wraps around your neck, choking you until you’re forced to stare at your joined bodies on the mirrored surface.

“Look at how perfect we are together. Look at how perfect you are underneath me. You chose that instead of this?”

You sob when he twists your head and forces you to look at a framed photograph on your vanity, a photo Nanami and you had taken together when he had brought you overseas with him for a mission.You regret not insisting that you go with him this time around, wishing more than anything else that you were wrapped in his strong arms.

There’s something irritating about your wailing and blubbering, your little hiccups and sniveling only fueling something dark and twisted inside of Gojo. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you’d never act like this if he was Nanami. Maybe it’s the way he knows you’re lust incarnate whenever Nanami has his hands or mouth on you. Maybe it’s the way he knows that you despise him and his touch so much, that you’d rather die than let him have you.

Ungrateful bitch.

Well if you’re going to cry, Gojo might as well give you something to cry about. A crazed grin slices his handsome face as your screams reach an all-time high, a frenzy, as he shoves his cock inside your unprepped hole, his shaft twitching in interest when you desperately wail his name over and over again as if that would do anything other than have him intensify his pace. But as pretty as his name sounds from your mouth, he tires of your useless pleas for him to stop. Gojo uses one hand to shove your face into the floor, your garbled cries muffled by the carpet as he chases his end, moaning at how perfect your tight, gummy walls feel around him. He’s dreamt of this for far too long and with a grunt, he cums inside of you, draping over your body and pressing his lips against the back of your neck, affectionately marking and tasting you as he empties his balls.

Through the pain and shame, relief floods through you, hope that this is finally all over, that he’ll leave you and your battered body alone. And you play dead, letting him do as he pleases, only occasionally wincing when he leaves a particularly intense mark on your skin, momentarily cringing when he pulls out, thick liquid trickling from your abused hole.

But you should have known better, should have known this was just the beginning.

You weakly paw at the strong arms easily cradling your exhausted figure, trying to wriggle as much as your aching body allows you to, sobbing into his shoulder when you see the direction you’re headed in. You wonder how it’s possible to feel even dirtier as calloused hands lather you with soapy suds, as Gojo takes his time scanning every inch of your body, intimately caressing and mapping every line and curve. And you plead for forgiveness from Nanami when slick begins to pool between your legs, as Gojo gently kneads and experiments with your breasts, rolling your nipples, long fingers expertly circling your clit and slipping inside of you.

Your orgasm shatters you and you stand there like a rag doll, body convulsing and eyes rolling back in your head as you drench Gojo’s digits with your arousal, the sticky strands of betrayal staining his hand as he brings it to your mouth. He gently peppers your neck and shoulder with encouraging kisses as you submissively suck him clean, tugging you along as he dries you off before tucking the both of you in bed, holding you in the mockery of a lover’s embrace. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s chosen to sleep on Nanami’s side of the bed and shame has you curling into a fetal position, has you burying your face in the bedsheets, hoping for at least a whiff of Nanami’s familiar scent, a reminder of his presence.

It works, and you let yourself fall into a restless sleep, your lips twitching every so slightly upwards despite the tears still trapped in your lashes as you think of a tall blonde man, a yellow spotted tie wrapped around your hands as you teasingly pull a spectacled face in for a kiss. You writhe and twist in your sleep, heavily panting as you imagine Nanami’s hands roaming on your figure, his lips tenderly kissing a bold line down your neck and in between the valleys of your breasts. And as you imagine his fingers carefully rubbing your clit, you sigh his name, only to be abruptly woken as a lance of pain shreds through you.

Eyelids still heavy with sleep, body still groggy from being so suddenly roused, you can’t piece together what’s happening, one of your hands instinctively cupping your smarting cheek. But you frantically claw and bat in the dark, knowing exactly who’s on top of you despite the fact that your eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the blackness, the way your body is ripped apart once more, a telltale sign of whose cock is penetrating you.

“It’s very rude to say another man’s name when I’m the one making you feel so good. Let me teach you the only name you need to know."

There’s something horribly intimate about the position you two are in, the way he’s tainting the very sheets and mattress Nanami had made love to you on countless times. You wish you could force yourself back to sleep, could gouge out your eyes as you begin to make out the man pistoning in and out of you. But it’s no use and you know even sightless, those icy blue orbs are branded in your mind.

You vow to at least not give him the satisfaction of hearing his name from your mouth, pressing and biting your lips until a copper taste assaults your tastebuds. But Gojo has always been talented at everything he does, those gifted eyes seeing far more than they should. You shake your head side to side in denial as a knot quickly begins to form in your gut, body tensing as you feel another wave coming over you, only to let out a confused whimper when everything suddenly stops.

“You get to cum when you say my name and the magic word.”

The playful lilt and childish tone have you seeing red and you sneer in twisted pleasure when a gob of your spit hits him squarely in the face, a litany of curse words and insults spewing from deep inside of you, uncaring of how you’re more like a raving madwoman than a victim.

But you’re not the first brat Gojo’s had to tame, and he just smirks condescendingly down at you before playing you like an instrument, easily bringing you to that narrow brink where even a single breath of air, or a simple flick of a finger seems like it would have you toppling over the edge, only to relentlessly snatch you right back before you can fall.

You don’t know how long he goes on for, your shattered and denied mind barely cognizant of the beginnings of daylight creeping through the window. But as the rays of light make it to your bed, you break.

“Gojo-”

You howl when he pulls out, hips wantonly thrusting in the air for more friction as he crudely slaps his tip against your clit, a frown on his lips.

“That’s not the name I want to hear.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Where’s your fucking backbone? How could you even entertain the idea of screaming another man’s name in your lover’s bed?

But when he steps away, your eyes zero in on how his cock separates from the sopping wet mess between your thighs, an unbidding distressed whine clawing up your throat at the thought of being left high and dry, mind hazy with lust and arousal.

“Sa-Satoru…Satoru, please.”

There’s work to be done and he’s not entirely pleased by the note of hesitancy and reluctance he still hears despite the hours he’s taken out of his time to educate you. But a promise is a promise and fuck if he doesn’t love the way his given name sounds in your mouth. And with just a few more meticulously placed thrusts and practiced twists of his fingers, you come undone, your lewd sex-crazed appearance and dopey smile from finally getting your sweet release dragging him down with you.

But it doesn’t end there and Gojo makes good use of your empty house, of the week he has alone with you.

There’s not a single surface in your home, not a single hole on your body that isn’t used and marked thoroughly. And even he briefly wonders if he’s being too rough with you, a flicker of concern crossing his mind as he pouts at the idea of his new toy breaking so soon.

But you prove your resilience and a strange concoction of pride and irritation festers inside of him as you determinedly clamp your mouth shut, a spark of defiance lighting up those lust-clouded eyes whenever he urges you to say you love him back, despite the way you practically ride and hump his face as he kneels between your legs and eats you out in the kitchen, despite the way you slur and babble his name over and over again like it’s the only thing you know how to say.

You’re adorable and he wishes he had all the time in the world to break you fully without using his trump card, to see just how durable you really are. But time is ticking and Nanami is due back any day now.

“Say you love me.”

He coaxes you by gently holding you in his arms, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, endearingly observing the way you seek the little comfort you can get despite the fact that he’s the giver, so deprived of anything other than frenzied arousal. But steely resolve hardens your eyes and you turn your face away.

“I love Nanami.”

You brace yourself for a cock slamming inside of you, a hand wrapped around your throat, but you aren’t ready for the endless galaxy that suddenly surrounds you, and blood-curling fear washes over you.

Unlimited Void.

You’d have to be living under a rock not to know of it, and yet, seeing it in person, you can safely say the rumors and tales don’t do it justice. Gojo laughs at how you frantically cling onto him, your arms wrapping around him, your face burying itself into his chest, voice trembling as you beg him to release you, beg him to get rid of his domain expansion, beg him not to let you go. You’ve seen the aftermaths of his technique, seen curses and sorcerers much stronger than yourself reduced to brain-dead husks from mere seconds in his domain.

“Say you love me.”

The words are on the tip of your tongue, fear making you docile. But a flash of blonde, a glimpse of a tailored suit in your mind keeps your saving grace stuck in your throat. You tell yourself it’s okay, you don’t mean it, it’s just a means to save yourself, surely Nanami will understand. And you begin to open your mouth, only to break off in a scream as you’re roughly shoved away, your hesitation speaking volumes to the white-haired sorcerer who sighs in irritation.

Not that you really notice or maybe you notice too well. You aren’t sure. You are sure. You can feel your sanity rapidly slipping as everything and nothing slams into your senses at once.

“Satoru, I love you!!”

It’s barely comprehensible, a shrieked frantic wail muddied by anxiety. But it’s enough and you sob in relief when Gojo ruffles your hair like you’re a well-behaved pet, leaning into his touch and digging your nails into his wrist, keeping his contact on you still and steady, dry heaving as you come back to your senses.

You don’t even realize that the repeated mantra is still coming out of your own mouth as you fling yourself onto the sorcerer as his artificial universe fades away, curling up in his lap, heart pounding as you chant “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over again like it’s your holy scripture.

Gojo is on cloud nine watching you finally come to faith, finally worship him and praise him. You were lost, and now you’re found. And he has no intentions of ever letting you stray again. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for you to go, anything else for you to do other than warm his cock anyway.

He crashes his lips against yours as he easily slips inside your well-used cunt, walls molded and shaped perfectly after countless rounds. It’s sinful how good you feel, how good you sound, and he can feel his balls tighten, his own end quickly approaching as you shatter to pieces over and over again around him, quivering walls milking him, clamping down on him as if you can’t bear the thought of being empty.

But there’s nothing to worry about. What god would leave his faithful disciple unrewarded? What declaration of faith comes without a baptism? And he cums inside of you, hot spurts filling you up, branding you, marking and claiming you as his, the sticky white trails leaking out of your stuffed cunt a public declaration of who you belong to.

There’s silence as he lets you collapse on top of him, grinning at how blissfully fucked out you look, cock already twitching in interest again as he spies the mess of tears and drool dripping down your chin. But there are matters of business to attend to first and he nudges you to look at him, cooing down at vacant eyes still hazy with pleasure.

“Nanami is returning tomorrow-”

Blinding pain shocks you as a large hand tangles with your roots, pulling your head back so far you think your neck might snap.

“What are you so happy about?”

There’s a lightness to his question, the silence before the storm, and you wipe the smile off your face, hissing as he tugs harder.

“I know you like me more, but I didn’t think you would be heartless enough to be so excited about breaking up with your boyfriend. Poor Nanami.”

Even through the pain, the unspoken weight of his words registers in your head and you snarl at him with a vengeance.

“I’m not breaking up with-”

Your throat goes dry as he relinquishes his hold on you, one hand raising to eye-level, pointer and middle fingers beginning to cross, and you go still, mouth snapping shut.

“Good girl. Now you’ve experienced Unlimited Void for yourself. What do you think would happen to Nanami if I left him in there for even a second? Do you think he’d ever be the same even if he were to somehow survive, even if he were to go through months of rehabilitation?”

The inquisitive tone makes it sound like just a bunch of theoretical questions, but you know better, know the ramble for the threat that it is.

Love is about sacrifice, and you’re willing to give it all up for the man whose contact Gojo is pulling up on your phone, whose number is being called. And as the ringtones finally stop and a familiar voice greets you over the speaker, you seal your fate.

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: somnophilia #tw: yandere

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Pretty boy

Summary: You don't like James Barnes. Of course not when he has a different girl with him every time. And no, you are not jealous... right?

Word count: 3.8k i went OUT with this one

Warnings: language, a man being a creep, then getting beaten up, kissing, very slight alcohol consumption

Author's note: This gave me the idea. It turned out to be pretty long. Sorry. I hope you like it! This is 40s!Bucky btw.

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

Part 2

James Barnes was a menace. An annoying little shit, who thought he could do anything and have anyone just because he was handsome. Not like you found him attractive or anything, but all the girls of New York seemed to drop their panties at the sight of him. One pet name and they were ready to kiss the ground he walked on. You couldn’t understand. How did these girls not see what kind of person he was? Multiple times you saw girls leave his apartment in the morning looking all sad. At first you felt bad for them, but after a while as they kept coming back you just couldn’t bring yourself to pity them.

Being a close friend of Steve meant you got to see a lot of James too. They were kind of a package deal, to which - by the way - you did not sign up for. Steve was the sweetest person you’ve ever met, maybe too righteous sometimes and he definitely did not know how to walk away from a fight, but he was a good man inside and out. James on the other hand was not like him. He wasn’t a bad man per se, but he was just too much of a player for you. He knew he was handsome and he used it to get girls all the time. Or dames as he called them. You hated that word by every fiber of your being. It reduced a woman to a simple object in your opinion and it basically said that she was only a pretty thing and nothing else. You did not want to be a pretty thing, you wanted more out of your life. Marrying some stuck up man and bearing his children was not something you dreamed of, no matter how many times people told you that it was what you had to do. No. You wanted a life that didn’t revolve around men. A life that you could choose for yourself. But it wasn’t that easy. Everyone expected you to do what they did. It didn’t even occur to them that you wanted something else.

Your mom had been telling you that you should marry James as he was such a nice young man. You just rolled your eyes every time she brought it up. She didn’t understand. How could she when she was so in love with your father after they met a few times that they got married just after a couple of months of knowing each other. Their love was something so extraordinary that you knew it wouldn’t happen to you. Especially not with James. He wasn't thinking about marriage and even if he did he wouldn't want you as a wife. Not like you wanted to marry him or anyone else for that matter, but that didn't mean that it didn't sting a little that he went after every girl he saw, but never thought of you the same way. He never even tried and it beat down your confidence a little. When you first met James you found him intriguing, your young self even had a crush on him for a while. But it didn't take long for you to get to know the real him and the disappointment made you force that crush down. You only laughed at yourself now, finding it hilarious that you once wanted to kiss him and love him. Of course, you didn't feel that way about him anymore. That would be stupid of you. Of course..

Having a night out with Steve was a wonderful idea. That is until James showed up, making you narrow your eyes at your friend. You clearly remembered him telling you that James had other plans and it would be just the two of you, but of course he had to mess up your plans.

You went to a bigger pub in the city, having been there before and liking it. James dragged Steve away as soon as you entered, talking about some girl he wanted to introduce him to, so you just went to the bar to ask for some alcohol. God knows you needed it if James was around.

All of the sudden two hands grabbed your waist and turned you around. Before you could realize what was happening a pair of lips were on yours, kissing with so much passion you almost moaned into it. Noses bumping against each other your hand gripped his hair. Your mind cleared as you realized that a stranger was kissing you without your permission and you pushed him away by his chest, hand already raised to slap him. Your whole body froze as you came face to face with a familiar man. James.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you hissed, your palm almost connecting with his cheek, but being stopped by his hand on your wrist. He pulled you close again by his hold on your arm.

"There is a girl I need to get rid of. Just play along" he mumbled, his breath hitting your lips as he leaned in for another kiss. You almost got lost in him again, but you were more aware and not caught by surprise this time so you managed to pull your head away from him.

"I will do no such thing" you narrowed your eyes at him. "Let go of me" you were getting angrier by the second. Who did he think he was?

"What if I don't want to?" Okay that's it. You ripped yourself from his arms.

“Listen here, pretty boy” you pointed your finger at him in your anger, not registering the smug expression that worked its way onto his face. “You can’t just do whatever you want because you are a-“

“You think I’m pretty?” he interrupted your angry rambling and grabbed your finger to pull you closer by it. In your surprise you stumbled forward, your hands finding place on his chest, your nose a few inches from his.

“James” you called out his name in warning. If he didn’t let go of you right now you wouldn’t be responsible for what you did to him.

“Come on, doll. I told you to call me Bucky multiple times” he smirked down at you.

“And I told you that we are not friends therefore I don’t have to call you your stupid nickname” you yanked your hand out of his grip, stepping back. “And stop calling me doll. I’m not one of your girls”

“Ouch doll, that hurts my feelings” he rubbed his chest where his heart was.

“Oh, I didn’t know you knew what those were” you frowned at him, not amused by his teasing. He opened his mouth in mocking shock.

"Don't be so mean to me. A lady like you should always be polite." he teased, knowing well that you hated being called a lady and being told what you should and should not do.

"Good thing I'm not a lady then" you grimaced at him, cocking your head to the side.

"Well, with the way you've been talking to me, I guess you aren't" he stepped back into your personal space. "And if you are not a lady then you should have no problem playing along with me."

"I'm might not be a lady, but I'm definitely not one of your dames either" you pushed him by his shoulders to finally have enough space between you.

"Are you jealous, doll?" a smug smile played on his lips.

"Oh very." your sarcasm was clear as day. "It would be an honor to lie in your bed then leave in the morning, only to never hear from you again." you turned back to the bar, your drink already in front of you. Lifting the glass you nodded at the bartender who gave you a small smile. You drowned it in one shot, the alcohol giving your throat a familiar burn as it went down. "Is there anything else you need?" you turned back to him. He didn't say anything as he kept staring at you. "No? Then you can leave me alone" you shooed him away by your hands, already done with his shenanigans.

"Don't drink too much because of me" he called after you as he walked backwards, that stupid smile not leaving his lips. Rolling your eyes you turned back to the bar, leaning on it with your elbows, a sigh leaving your lips.

How could he just kiss you like that? You thought he at least had some respect for you, bit it seemed like he didn't. He was James Barnes for god's sake. Of course he didn't. You didn't know what you were thinking. He wasn't different from any man. A part of you believed that he might have been but he just proved it that he wasn't. Your mother would loose her mind if she knew what her 'nice young man' did to you just now.

You shook your head to get the thoughts out of it and signaled for the bartender to give you another shot. You drowned that one too as someone sat down next to you. You were ready to tell him to fuck off, thinking it was James again, but as you turned your head it was a man your age. You lifted your eyebrows, not being in the mood to deal with another self-centered man.

"What is a pretty dame like you doing here alone?" he tried to flirt, but he already lost you at the word he called you.

"I'm not here alone. And it's none of your business" you showed him a mocking smile and stood up ready to leave, your night already ruined. A hand locking around your wrist made you stop.

"Come on. I just want to make you have a good time" he smirked, but it left his lips as soon as you ripped your arm out of his hold.

"I don't care about your good time" you rubbed your wrist, his grip leaving the skin red.

"Okay. I tried being nice, but you clearly don't care for it. Maybe you like men when they are being a little more forceful? You like 'em rough?" he pulled you to his body by your waist, your hands flying to his chest trying to push him away. Why is this happening to you now?

"Let go of me" you squirmed in his hold, disgusted by him. Unfortunately he was stronger than you and didn't loosen his arms around you no matter how hard you hit his chest.

"You like this don't ya?" his breath hit your cheek as you tried to get as far away as you could.

"No, I don't. Stop" you were getting desperate, looking around for anyone to help you. There were a lot of people around, but none of them seemed to care. Tears gathered in your eyes.

Suddenly the man was pulled backwards by his collar, a fist meeting his cheek a second later, making you gasp. He fell down on the ground, but your savior didn't let him get away that easily as he hit him a few more times. You quickly stepped closer and that's when you saw his face. It was James. Your shock quickly dissipated as he lifted his arm again to hit the other man. You hands grabbed his forearm and you tried to pull him away, making him look at you.

"Stop it, James. He is already on the ground" you pleaded. A relieved sigh left your lips as he stepped away, his arm going around your waist to lead you away from the crowd that formed around you.

"Are you okay?" he stopped you in front of the building, the cold night air picking at your skin.

"Yes, I'm fine." you rubbed your arms, stopping your movements as he grabbed your arm that had the red bruise on it.

"Did he do that to you?" he almost growled, head turning to look inside the place.

"Yes, but it's fine. It doesn't hurt that much" you put your hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. Why did he care anyway?

The door opened and Steve walked out, a worried look on his face. you immediately pulled your hand away from James, stepping back.

"I heard what happened. Are you okay?" his eyes traveled over your whole body, trying to see if you were hurt.

"I'm fine, Steve." you forced a smile in his direction. In truth you weren't completely fine, but the boys didn't need to know that.

"I'll walk her home" James spoke up from next to you, making you look at him in surprise.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking home myself, thank you" you replied to him.

"I know that, but both of us would be more relaxed if someone was with you. And Steve was talking to a pretty woman before I left" he sent a knowing smile to the man. You looked at him, only to see him looking down at his feet, a blush on his cheek confirming James' words.

"Steve! What are you doing out here then?" you almost shouted at him. "Go back inside right now. I'll be fine." you waved him off.

"I'll go check on you tomorrow, okay?" he was already inching backwards toward the door.

"Yes, okay, just go" you laughed, happy for him. He walked back inside, leaving the two of you alone. "So you don't have to walk me home, just stay outside for a little while so Steve doesn't get suspicious." you forced another smile on your face.

"I will not let you walk around alone this late at night." he grabbed your arm that wasn't bruised and started pulling you towards your home.

"I've done it multiple times before" you argued, but walked alongside with him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

For the duration of the walk neither of you spoke a word, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. The silence between you was nice, letting you look around as he still held your arm, neither of you wanting to let go. He made you feel safe as you walked along the dim streets, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Thanks for walking me home" you reached your house, stopping in front of the door as you turned to him.

"Isn't there something else you should thank me for too?" he smirked, stepping closer.

"Well I was about to say it, but now I'm not going to" you put your hands behind you, leaning on the door.

"It's not only with words that you can thank me" he leaned closer, his face a few inches from yours for the second time that night. There it is.

"You know, I was thinking that you are not so bad while we were walking home, but you just reminded me why I don't like you" you smiled at him.

"And why is that?" he tilted his head to the side.

"You just can't keep it in your pants." you shook your head.

"Actually I wanted to apologize about earlier." he got serious, stepping backwards to put some distance between you.

"Earlier?" you asked back, confused as to what he was referring to.

"The kiss" he mumbled, looking down, almost as if he was nervous. But James Barnes does not get nervous.

"Oh." it was all you could say, surprise taking over your brain.

"So I'm sorry" he kept looking down.

"Uhm... it's okay, I guess?" you didn't know what to say to that, thoughts running through your mind a thousand miles an hour.

"I'm just gonna go now." he pointed behind him awkwardly. As he turned away you couldn't help yourself and you called after him, the alcohol in your system giving you courage.

"You are really not that bad, James." he turned back, surprise written all over his face, but he quickly covered it up by a smirk.

"Is that a compliment I hear?" you rolled your eyes at him. There was the James you knew.

"And it might be the last if you keep this up" you let out a smile. "But seriously, we could be friends if you didn't do what you do." you shrugged nonchalantly.

"What am I doing?" he asked, confused.

"You know, every time I see you, you have a different girl on your arm" you couldn't look into his eyes, a little embarrassed.

"You avoid me because of that?" his eyes widened.

"Yes. What did you think the reason was?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"I don't know. I just thought you do it because you don't like me, not because you are jealous" he let out a laugh.

"I am not jealous, James. Get that out of your head." you looked away as a blush crept up your cheeks.

"Oh god you are blushing" he continued to laugh, the redness of your cheek only deepening. "I can't believe you like me" he mused.

"Okay, that is enough out of you. I'm going inside" you turned and reached for the handle as he grabbed you to turn you back around, your back hitting the wood of the door, his left arm on the door next to your face, his right circled around your waist. You let out a gasp at how close his face was.

"You didn't deny it" he whispered, his warm breath hitting your lips. Your mouth opened, realizing your mistake.

"I-" you wanted to defend yourself, but nothing came to mind. His right hand touched your face, palm flat against your cheek. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a second. Your eyes snapped open when you realized what you were doing and pushed his hand away. "I'm not one of your dames, James" you looked into his eyes. You couldn't let him treat you like any other girl. You refused to be another one night stand for him. A stable relationship you could work with, but being someone he called when he was bored was not something you wanted or could handle.

"No, you are not." he agreed.

"Then don't treat me like them" you pushed yourself more into the door. You were afraid. Not of him, he would never hurt you. Not physically at least. But you were afraid of what would happen. Will he leave you saying that he won't give up that lifestyle for you? Or will he stay with you?

"Never" he shook his head.

"I don't want to be one of many" you continued, trying to get him to understand.

"You know why I was always with a different girl?" he pulled away slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to forget about you. I thought you didn't like me because you were always so distant. So I just wanted to find someone else, but none of them compared to you." he brushed his thumb along your lower lip. Your eyes met his as he lifted your head by your chin. "None of them were you" his nose bumped against yours. "I like you. I did from the first time we met" he finally confessed, your heart skipping a beat at his words.

"James" his name left your lips in a sigh. "Kiss me" he didn't need more as his lips latched onto yours, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. His tongue swiped across your lip asking for entrance and as you opened your mouth, his body pushed you against the door, trapping you. It was a trap you never wanted to escape. His hands held your head, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as you arms were around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Your heart beat rapidly as his hands traveled down your body, stopping at your waist.

A few moments later he had to pull away as both of you needed air, but de didn't go far, only enough for you to catch your breath. His forehead leaning against yours, noses touching, the two of you giggled into each others mouths.

"Wow" he mumbled as he left short pecks on your lips, unable to keep himself away from you. It was your first real kiss and he was already addicted.

"Stop it" you giggled and let him press one long peck on you before pushing him away. "I don't want you to get bored of that" you teased.

"I could never" he pressed another kiss on your mouth, making you laugh.

"Okay, I understand" you could barely talk as he still had his mouth on yours. He pulled you closer and rested his head on your shoulder.

"You are amazing" he murmured into the fabric of your clothes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, James" you were glad he couldn't see your face as it was coated in a red blush.

"I'm just saying the truth" he pressed his lips to your cheek.

"I probably should get inside, before we wake up my parents." you sucked in your lips try to hide your smile.

"Maybe" he agreed, but made no move to let you go.

"You have to let me go for that to happen" you pulled away as much as you could.

"Then you shouldn't go" he teased, still holding you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, or today I should say" you reassured him and he let go at that. You straightened your clothes as he watched you. Looking up at him the softness in his eyes almost made you say 'fuck it' and spend the rest of the night with him, but you held yourself back. He turned and walked down the stairs, but suddenly ran buck up to you to press one more long kiss on your soft lips. You couldn't help, but let a smile break out on your lips as he pulled away to look into your eyes once more.

He was already out on the street when you remembered something.

"Hey, pretty boy!" you called after him once more, making him turn around with a big smile on his face from the nickname. "Good night" you bit your lip, trying to hide your own smile, but failing miserably.

"Good night to you too, doll" he playfully bowed down a little, making you let out a laugh.

If someone saw you that night, under the moonlight, they would have seen two people completely in love with one another, laughing, being happy that they finally found their missing piece that was in front of them the whole time. Eyes shining like the stars above them as they watched each other, only the moon being witness of their intimate moment.

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anastasiaskarsgard · 3 years

Text

A/n;So someone asked for smut for the perfect girl that decides she’s gonna have some fun before she dies. I’m A bit rusty. TW: sex, cursing, choking, 18+ NSFW

If you wanna read the first part it’s called perfect problem and is the last thing I wrote on here and posted...

“So where are we going?” Bethany asked as they got into some ridiculously expensive sports car. Adjusting her clothing and hair, she glanced over at Roman to find him just watching her.

Smirking his signature smirk, he turned the car on and raced out of the parking lot like he has stolen the car. “It’s a surprise.” Roman said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Eyes on the road Speed Racer! Ok well at least tell me what we are going to go do.” She whined.

“Nope. No can do princess. You’re just going to have to have a little faith.” He grinned.

“Your reputation doesn’t exactly inspire trust. No offense.” She felt bad as soon as she looked over. He looked almost sad. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m not serious.” She lied.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart...”

“Oh ho ho! Someone bounces back quick.”she jibed as she turned to look out the window. She wasn’t exactly familiar with the area so she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. There was trees, and then some houses, and then businesses so there’s no way to tell if they were going somewhere Residential or commercial.

Grabbing her phone to send out some emails, she wasn’t paying attention when she noticed the car had stopped. Looking up from her phone she made an incredulous face at Roman when she noticed that they were in front of a large mansion.

“Really?” She quipped.

“Hey Before you jump to conclusions, I’m just coming here to get into some more comfortable clothes. I can’t exactly have fun in a suit, now can I?” He got out of the car and walked around it to open her door. “You can look around or grab a drink or whatever you like while I change.”

Stepping out of The car, Bethany followed roman inside his home. “ not even gonna try that old give me a tour excuse?”

Scoffing, he shook his head no, and made a crossing motion over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

“What if that’s exactly what I wanted to do?” She breathed out as she made her best attempt at sexy. Licking her lips, and winking, she nearly cried out when all of a sudden he was only inches away from her. “You’re very fast. I hope that’s not true for everything though.”

Smirking, he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Pulling back to look at his face, she bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, as he walked them up to his room. Seeing the insecurity creeping in, He kept an eye open to watch where he was going but smashed his mouth back into hers, in a passionate, breathtaking kiss. Completely losing herself, she was startled when he dropped her on the bed and crawled over her body, pressing himself into her, making his intentions clear.

Sitting up as he straddled her waist, he ripped his shirt off, sending buttons flying, before aggressively attacking her mouth once more. Her nails dug into his bare back and he groaned into her mouth, before kissing down her neck and onto her chest.

Abruptly, he jumped off her and stood over her a moment longer than she assumed it took to take off his pants, so she lifted her head, cocking a brow at him curiously.

“Dress off.” He ordered, his smile fading.

Smiling a Cheshire grin, she shook her head no and looked up at the ceiling. Not letting curiosity get the best of her, she refused to look at him when he huffed impatiently. Even when he had stormed out of the room, and returned a few minutes later, looming over her, she refused to award his bratty behavior.

“Please take your dress off.” He finally bit out.

For a moment She pondered denying him-- and in turn denying herself. But the fact remained, she wanted him, whether contrived or genuine, She did. And She was done not doing what She wanted.

“Stand up.” His voice shocked her out of her head and She found herself standing at the side of the bed. “Good girl.” He purred, his hand brushing her back as he walked behind her and She shivered, as she turned her head to look at him. “Head forward.”

She did so, waiting for him to come back into view and see how far he’d take this little game. When she heard the bed sheets move, she fought the urge to turn around until She felt his fingers on her back, drawing letters or shapes; she wasn’t sure. Roman hummed quietly, lulling her into a peaceful calm, when suddenly he pulled her back into him. He was sitting on the bed, his long legs slightly spread and he spun her around, and placed her straddling over his one naked leg. Somewhere, somehow He’d removed his pants.

Gently he traced up her chest and wrapped one hand in her hair, pulling her forward so he could kiss her neck. Surprisingly, he bit her ... hard. Instead of pain, her senses exploded, causing her to moan wantonly, as she ground her core against his bare thigh.

When his other hand slid down her stomach, She Was almost embarrassed by how wet she had become.

“Stay still…” He said playfully in her ear as he slipped his fingers past the lace covering his goal. Plunging them within her, coating his fingers with her wetness, He gazed into her eyes lustily, as he Brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “So ready for me.”

She nodded dumbly, lost in the sinful way his tongue worked around his fingers. Biting her lip, she must of looked pitiful, because Roman dropped character a moment to chuckle and move a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. Almost lovingly.

Unfortunately she was way too far gone to contemplate what these gestures might mean. She wanted to fuck and she wanted those fingers to go back down there, but this was Roman Godfrey. The man Was unpredictable at best, and uncooperative the rest of the time.

Roman was a predator, and predators like to chase. As much as she wanted to just throw herself at him and demand to fuck her into oblivion, she Still had enough pride to play the game.

“I knew I was right.” He growled, Standing, releasing her hair, so he could wrap his hand around her throat. She grinned, not really caring what he meant. “Now, Im going to fuck you. I’m not going to be gentle, but I’m going to make sure you come so hard that you forget your fucking name.” He smirked cockily, still holding her by the throat. “I can see it in your eyes, that you’re a fucking freak under all that polite perfection. You’ve never fucked up or disappointed anyone ever. You’re loved and respected. Americas sweetheart.... I wonder what they’d all say if they saw you right now, ready to be my little fuck doll, cuz that’s exactly what you are.” Two of his fingers dragged across her cheek, Forcing their way in her mouth. She could taste herself on him and it made her nearly mad with need. She’d never been this turned on in her life. “You have the most perfect lips.” He said as he examined the way they wrapped around his fingers, “I’m going to put so many things in your mouth.”

She sucked briefly, before humming around his digits, lightly biting them. Swiftly, he removed them for a moment, before getting a mischievous look on his face and shoving them in as deep as he could, choking her slightly. Slightly panicked, she reached for his hand, but he just tsked and Tightened his grip on her throat, before ripping his fingers out of her mouth and plunging his tongue in their place.

She really needed to breathe, but eventhough she could feel her limbs growing weak, She didn’t fight him. Completely surrendering to the most arousing experience in her life.

“That’s why I’m going to keep you.” Before She could comment or recover, he removed her dress and threw her down on the bed, standing over her a moment to look her over.

He yanked her underwear down and dove two fingers into her roughly, making her arch her back. His expert fingers were moving faster and faster, getting her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. It’d been a long time since a man made her orgasm, and she was certain, she’d never come close to this intensity. He reached down and pulled her up by the back of her neck, holding her against him like a rag doll, as he brought her closer. , his thumb brushed over her clit and She opened her mouth, trying not to scream. Her limbs started to shake, as her pelvis started thrusting into his hand, flailing about as Her vision began to blur. She closed her eyes tight, ready for the climax.

“Look at me. Look at who is making you feel this way,” he said seductively.

She breathed, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, as He quickened his pace again and added a third finger, making her buck, as she grabbed his rock hard erection, causing him to hiss, and roll on top of her.

“Patience.” He teased, pushing her legs apart. She looked in between his to see his cock standing hard and long against his stomach, a new need screamed within her, demanding him inside her right fucking now.

“What do you want?” He asked innocently, three fingers diving into her again. She closed her eyes from all the sensations, trying to get control, but she was past the point of pride now.

“Please--” She gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?” He pressed down on her clit and She wanted to kill him, but first had to fuck him. His other hand came down and pinched her nipple, twisting it and making her cry out.

“Fuck!” She screamed as he did the same to the other. “Fuck! Fuck me Roman! Fucking fuck me now or I’m going to kill you!”

He didn’t need to be told twice and She felt the large head of his cock against her entrance, before he just forced it inside her with one powerful thrust.

He was big and it took her body a moment to adjust to him, the burn slowly fading as he gave her a moment to breathe and relax herself to accommodate by far the largest cock she’d ever seen, let alone was inside of her.

Somehow it felt divine when he began to move again, and she moaned loudly, his body pressing down into her as he started to move his hips back and forth. She could feel him driving into her with solid, sure strokes as She clenched around him. His lips crashed into hers again as he pushed his hand under her ass and pulled her hips up, sitting back so he could move at a quicker pace. Setting her nerves on fire. Every inch of her body sang in extreme pleasure. His thrusts massaged her inner walls, the tension roaring through her, as he bottomed out and touched a place she’d never felt before, but the intensity made her screech.

She could feel the tell tale signs of an orgasm swelling through her but She held it back, making it feel sweeter and richer with each passing moment. His fingers dug into hips hard enough to break her bones as he closed his eyes, focusing on his own pleasure. His pace turned more erratic and She gripped him around his torso, desperately trying to hang on so they could both orgasm at the same time. Pulling him down and attempting to hide her face in his throat, he stopped and leaned back looking at her beautiful flushed face.

“Ah--ah-- ah--” He held still. “Look at me.”

She did, letting herself melt into his gaze as he started again, harder and faster than before. Noises came from her, she didn’t know She could make and his hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing possessively. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her until She was right back to nearly cumming.

“Please--” It took effort to speak through his grip, but She was so close, she didn’t care if she had to beg. “Please, I’m so close--”

“Tell me how badly you want it.” He ordered, his own breath ragged.

“I need it-- please! Please, Roman!” She screamed like a desperate, shameless whore, before she exploded, tightening around him as his grip turned to a vice around her neck and somehow the lack of oxygen intensified the sensory overload to a new height. She drowned in the relentless, all encompassing sensations, that lasted far longer than She thought possible-- causing herself to completely release control for the first time in her life.

As the shocks rocked through her, she felt him stiffen and press into her as deep as possible, spending himself inside her. She couldn’t help but trip out a little about being so full of him. She’d never allowed anyone to finish inside her before.

“You really are good at everything,” he said playfully, as he rubbed his nose along hers, and held her a moment, before pulling out, and flopping down beside her. Brushing his fingers along her tight stomach, and full breasts, he decided she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

His mother was going to fucking hate her...

Perfect.

#bill skarsgard #roman #roman godfrey #my writing #smut #bill skarsgård smut #hemlock grove #perfect

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