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#is one of them is gonna be a sorcerer
teecupangel · 1 year
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What if Desmond, Ezio, Edward, Connor, and Haythem ended up in the witcher universe where they meet Geralt?
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Zswe2lSkID4&pp=ygUJV2l0Y2hlciAz
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=5F6EJmTk80g&pp=ygURV2l0Y2hlciAzIGdlcmFsdCA%3D
Okay, since the two youtube links (especially the first part) focus more on the first part of Witcher 3, that’s where we’ll focus the setup of this idea.
So we’ll throw them in White Orchard, the first ‘area’ of the game. And this is a world currently embroiled in war and conquest, not a pretty sight, that’s for sure. Their main priority would be to find a way to get back to their world because those monsters and all these unfamiliar names? Yup, definitely not their world.
For this scenario, let’s say we’ll take each of them during the ‘epilogue’ of their story. For Desmond, that’s when he’s just died after saving the world. For Ezio, it has to be after he finds Altaïr’s Library (maybe even after he retires from the mentor role). For Edward, it will be around the time of the epilogue showing him and his children in the theatre. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s would be after finding out his tribe had left without telling him anything. As for Haytham… Well, Haytham would be taken just after he dies.
So there’s gonna be pure awkwardness between Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton, not to mention that he doesn’t necessarily lie and say that he’s actually an Assassin to his own father but he definitely didn’t tell him outright that he’s a Templar or correct his assumption.
Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton notice it right away and they both kept quiet for different reasons. Ratonhnhaké:ton believes that the truth should come from Haytham and not anybody else. Desmond says nothing because he’s following Ratonhnhaké:ton’s lead.
So, they’re stranded in an unknown place and, strangely they can understand each other and the other people they talk to (who thinks they’re traveling mercenaries of all things). According to Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton, they hear everyone speaking their native language (not English) while Desmond and Haytham hear English instead.
So something definitely fishy is going on, that’s for sure. For now, they need to stay together and keep their heads down while looking for information.
Ezio is their de-facto leader with Desmond serving more of a second-in-command role. Funnily enough, Desmond doesn’t notice it as all he’s doing (in his eyes) is keeping everyone from doing dumb things (and he’s weirded out by the fact that he understands Edward’s personality so easily even when he shouldn’t know him at all). Ratonhnhaké:ton mostly keeps to himself but follows Ezio’s orders whenever he must. He only speaks up when he believes he has something worthwhile to say but he’s closer to Desmond than to anyone else, mostly because he knows Desmond understands him without him trying to ‘speak up’ as Haytham likes to say. Edward knows Haytham is hiding something but he’s waiting for his son to say it so he doesn’t push. He tries to connect with Ratonhnhaké:ton as well but mostly, he sticks by Haytham because he can feel the slight animosity between Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton (and Desmond who is in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s corner and who is also questioning why Haytham is with them and not… someone worthier in Desmond’s eyes). Haytham plays the devil’s advocate and keeps them focused on their goal of finding a way out even though the urge to help and build their own Brotherhood as a way to help the people of this wartorn land was definitely building on the surface, no matter how much Haytham tries to snuff it out.
By the time Geralt and Vesemir reached White Orchard, Haytham had given up and they have a budding Brotherhood already set up. The inn the two witchers go to is actually the first bureau they built and Desmond serves as the ‘bartender’ (with Edward playing the owner). Geralt and Vesemir are surprised by how polite everyone was but they both know something is wrong.
Something is definitely strange and they’re not sure what it is yet.
So the inn they go to is witcher-friendly and they learn about how the griffin that attacked them will ‘be taken care of’.
“So there’s a witcher here already?” Geralt asked curiously.
Desmond kept smiling politely as he replied vaguely, “We deal with our own problems.”
And that only makes Geralt wary because a lot of people die when they deal with problems outside of their ‘range’.
Geralt goes to fight the Griffin still, especially after receiving the ‘request’ from the Nilfgaardians. During his fight, a group of five hooded figures helps him out and Geralt is impressed by their coordination. It was clear that three of them were more inexperienced but the other two could definitely handle their own.
Together, they all defeat the griffin and Geralt tries to find out who they are. The two most experienced of the group talk to him, telling him about how they were simply a band of ‘samaritans’ and they don’t mind if Geralt takes the head as a trophy as long as they can share what they can harvest from the carcass.
Geralt knows they’re hiding something and tries to get it out of them by using Axii but then he feels something block him. It wasn’t just that his Axii was too weak… something about these two hooded figures blocked Axii specifically.
Another curiosity that makes Geralt wary.
Anyway, the thing with the Nilfgaardians happened as it did in the game and Geralt said nothing about the hooded figures, although he has heard the whispers of the Nilfgaardians guards talking about how they were being attacked by hooded figures, taking their supplies and such. They seem to believe they’re a band of rebels, and might even be remnants of the Temerian army with how organized and strategic the attacks were.
Geralt returns to White Orchards to tell Vesemir what he found out but stops when he recognizes one of the patrons. He sits on the other side of that person and asks him straight out if he’s the leader of the rebel army making the Nilfgaardians’ life miserable.
Ezio (who had been with Ratonhnhaké:ton to assist and gauge their recruits’ skills in the Griffin fight) simply smiles and asks Geralt if he knows how to play Gwent. Geralt tries to push the issue and Ezio tells him he’d talk if they play.
And that is how Geralt learned how to play Gwent in this one because Gwent is an integral part of Witcher lore, damn it.
And Ezio does talk. Not about everything, of course, but enough for Geralt to understand that they’re not necessarily an army nor are they truly allied with the Temerian army at all, but they’re more… on the side of the people.
Their conversation is cut when they hear that Nilfgaardians are outside and they’re looking for the Witchers and…
The ‘Prophet’.
Geralt goes outside to find out what’s the problem now while Ezio and Desmond both looked at one another because only a few people know that Ezio was Desmond’s Prophet and all those people shouldn’t be in this world. Not even the Kenways know about Ezio’s title as the prophet.
They don’t go outside, of course, that would be too risky.
Until Desmond saw the man next to a woman with black hair and purple eyes currently talking to Geralt.
Before Ezio could stop him, Desmond opened the inn doors loudly and ran outside as he shouts the name of the man next to Yennefer of Vengerberg.
“Altaïr!”
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… you might have excluded Altaïr in the ask, nonny, but it’s me. I’ll include him anyway XD
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Unorganized Notes:
So this could be a case of more Assassin protagonists getting booted into Witcher 3 but not in the same place as Desmond and the others or Altaïr could have been a special case and got booted near Yennefer for some reason.
Altaïr and Yennefer do not necessarily get along. They’re both stubborn and, really, just allying with the Nilfgaardians for a bit irritated Altaïr.
Unfortunately for him, he and Yennefer needed to ally up while he looks for people ‘like him’ because he holds an important piece of information.
The Wild Hunt is looking not just for Ciri but for someone else. They’re hunting Altaïr because they say he ‘knows’ who they’re looking for. They share the same stench after all.
So it’s more of the enemy of my enemy is my ally deal between him and Yennefer.
Altaïr believes it’s Ezio, the prophet, that the Wild Hunt wants. Ezio believes it’s Desmond they want because why would they want the prophet when the chosen one (which sounds like what this ‘Ciri’ is as well) is with them as well?
This does end with Altaïr joining Desmond and the others and they decide to leave White Orchards after they got chased by the Wild Hunt.
They start building bureaus all over while keeping hidden from the Wild Hunts so they see Geralt from time to time, acting more like reoccurring NPCs in Geralt’s story.
Altaïr stole a few of Yennefer’s magic books. Yennefer knows and made sure Altaïr could only take the ones she didn’t mind losing. Mostly the basic spellbook and grimoires and maybe a copy of bestiaries and such.
Fuck it, Altaïr learns magic. He’s weirdly good at it. The others also learn a bit of magic with varying degrees of success and ease. Desmond is good at it as well but everyone believes it’s because Desmond is good at anything he does while Desmond believes it’s because of his connection to Altaïr (the Bleeding Effect). It’s not.
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lotuso3o · 3 months
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new dark urge run ♡
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miabrown007 · 7 months
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girl who sucks at making OCs needs to make a DnD character send help
#I did make one who was rad but then got vetod by the DM and now I handed in a half-elf wizard but she's just so basic#she literally has no personality send help#and also idk what direction should we take because I have no idea what the other people will be like in the party#and I'm the only girl player there so I don't want for that to be like be a thing and bring a stereotipically girly character#and I could make her like a standard bookish wizard which obviously stands very close to me and would be super easy to play#but that's so cliche and I don't want to be like everyone's mom in game if everyone else is just running around and fucking shit up#but I know that I'll have a harder time playing a more reckless and careless character and if there isn't going to be someone#thinking for the team and we just go headfirst into stuff that also sucks.#and like I like to be someone who thinks about the solutions it just can't just be me being the party pooper if you get me#but poor wizard girl is just so mid with her 'my parents wanted me to be an X wizard but I'm gonna be an Y wizard instead' backstory#like wow such rebellion you're gonna show them girl#but at this point I'm a week behind schedule so I need to have a character like for yesterday#and I don't want to just copy others' dnd characters from D20 but they have like a group cohesion and individual arcs and that's so cool#and I suck at making up little men#miaing#mia's dnd adventures#I'm stressing so much over just making a character and meeting strangers bringing a character with anxiety disorder wouldn't even be rp#I guess great that my sorcerer got vetoed how would I play out being the face of the party
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astarionspocketpussy · 8 months
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I cannot wait till I'm able to play this game so I can make the most cringefail boyloser Tav imaginable. He'll be a bard so miserably bad at anything to do with Charisma that he faceplants trying to play the lute and who can't charm anyone to save his life. he will be the lowest int physically possible and he will be so damn oblivious you could tell him to your face that you want to kill him and he'll STILL call you his friend. Everyone will want to make out with him for reasons even they cannot explain.
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fore-seer · 4 months
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it occurs to me ive never finished a real playthrough of awakening that wasn’t like. for the support log or constructing a main file where i cap everyone’s stats and break the game. i’ll admit all the grinding was kinda fun for me but i’m very excited to experience this game without doing all that
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katnissgirlsmakedo · 1 year
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once upon a time is fun because all these ancient fairytales literally happened 30 years ago. snow white? yeah she was doing all that about 30 years ago. hercules? fought cerberus around 1970. king arthur pulled excalibur from the stone AFTER the release of disney’s the sword in the stone. mulan saved china (china? magic china? unclear actually) about 35 years ago. and it slaps and makes total sense don’t even worry about it
#this is NOT one of those insanely irritating ‘omg ouat made NO sense’ posts. it does make sense. i’m saying it’s funny#it makes sense because it’s about the fucking. metanarrative you cunts.#beth.txt#i can’t wait for tee to see them do frozen it’s so funny it’s so ridiculous. david was bffs with kristoff for some reason.#how did they even meet? it doesn’t even matter! because you learn that information and then immediately presented with evil little bo peep#and then rumplestiltskin (btw tee idk if you’re aware but you are in fact spelling his name wrong <3 it doesn’t matter tho keep doing what#you’re doing) he gets anna to turn the sorcerer’s apprentice (NOT dave) into a RAT for no reason… and that’s the plot of a whole episode#and then there’s LILY. you’re gonna go crazy for lily… i LOVED lily when season four was airing#unfortunately they do forget about her immediately after the season ends and she is not so much as mentioned until the SERIES FINALE#but like it’s fine because immediately after season four you get to go to camelot and meet all those cunts#especially nimue who literally slays so hard…. the og girlboss of the enchanted forest fr#and then of course emma and killian do orpheus and eurydice and it slays#and then season six comes and you get to meet my buddy gideon!!!!!#and if you don’t like gideon i will probably have to disown you but don’t worry about it you’ll like him <3#anyway. what was the point of this post.#oh yeah i just love how hercules was a teenager at the same time as snow white and it was like during the 1970s. camp!#🍎
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swordfaery · 1 month
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anyway my favourite thing about dead men fanfiction is the wildly different characters we all write. like. not even the ones who have been dead for years and have so little actual characterisation but even the ones who were alive in canon were probably very different one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago. also theyre under characterised in fiction. also we are all just having fun
#guy who barely posts about skulduggery pleasant: so ive be rereading some of my old favourite dead men fanfiction#as well as my own dead men fanfiction#and damn if we arent all writing a bunch of different fucking guys. to be fair i have gone rogue bcos like. cant be fucked w canon#dont wanna write about war#heyo what if it was pre war and everyone was still. convinced their wouldnt be one#also i love the idea of skulduggery being. just super fucking irresponsible devil may care live laugh love sorta guy pre-war#spoilt. rich parents who dont care much about him. loads of magic tutors.#i mean think about the class implications of the dead men#skulduggery. an elemental. a difficult discipline that clearly requires a level of training and scholarli-ness#his NAME is skulduggery#you come across that name if your educated. if you read a lot#this is a man who has been afforded every privilege#and like. i think a lot of sorcerers are implied to be very upper class#or like. kinda rich and fancy about it#but obviously that wouldnt be the case for everyone bcos magic isnt just genetic right like some ppl just show up with it#and like even then#dexter vex#anton shudder#like as far as im aware these are just names ppl have#and slightly uncommonly used words#disciplines which are more emotional/physical#as opposed to 'learned'#i just think its interesting#i was gonna have my dead men all meet n be friends pre war#but tbh i think them meeting and not being friends is better#i think theres a sort of tragedy in them being as close as they were because of the war#and not having that post war or pre war#its actually really fucking sad but like. evidently they didnt hang out in the interim when most of em were still alive#or at least that much#im wondering if like. they needed a couple hundred years of like. detox bcos seeing each other just pulled them back into that mindset
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itstimeforstarwars · 3 months
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I admit that I was indifferent to the video game au prompt for codywan week but now I have the best idea for it. I'm putting the boys in a ps2 game from 2005.
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zukkaoru · 2 years
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i'm sprinkling so many silly little self indulgent headcanons in this fic and i am having a GREAT time
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lesbianpegbar · 2 years
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i just read the new jjk chapters what the fuck is going on anymore
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orcelito · 1 year
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dying. dying. dying. the oracle's been going around Asking Questions. and i got cornered by her. and i relied on my past experience with her & her sister which Did Not Go Well for reasonable reason to refuse to let them peer into my mind again.
so instead, they cast zone of truth. and i had to lie the FUCK out of this without actually fucking lying. relied on the fact that there's this dude i could use as a scapegoat and the fact that i Never actually saw the prince die (i was on the other side of a wall lol). holy fucking shit that was so fucking nerve wracking.
and IIIIIIIIIII GOT A NAT TWENTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY for persuasion lmfao. that's TWO times we got a very good timing nat20 for avoiding suspicion from the oracle's questioning.
holy fuckin shit y'all im like trembling. that was so scary.
#speculation nation#d&d#FUN but SCARY...#trying to avoid implicating myself as an assistant to fucking regicide#while ALSO avoiding implicating any of my friends#'was anyone else there?' 'hmm there Was an assistant from the ship but i think he got killed'#dead can answer no questions. lol.#literally ANYONE else it wouldve been very bad to tell them they were there#i just Happened to be in the basement to try to rescue ppl. just Happened to see the prince there kind of#but there was this dude who made this explosion that was Totally at fault for all of this (in fang's mind that is true)#and he was Totally the one that caused the prince to die (in an extended way sure this is maybe true)#'do you have any ill will towards the prince' 'i dont think i knew him well enough to' said in a vague way of him being a Ruler#fang did not like him as a person but as a Ruler? he didnt know him well enough to say one way or another#that was the only thing that had the dm like '... is that true??' & i gave my vague extended truth reasoning lmfao#and THEN i had my nat20 persuasion. and god fucking damn. wow.#then i cast subtle spell (sorcerer ftw) message out to the wizard outside like#'theyre about to leave. get the Fuck out of there. now.'#so they didnt see anyone else. and we need to Keep it that way#we got really fucking lucky the last two times. i really dont think that luck is gonna hold#AAAAGH things r so scary. so very scary. and fang didnt get the meal he was promised :( the greatest injustice of it all#and now is. a waiting game. hhhhhhhhhhhhhooooo boy
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hhhhhh i might be getting a seventh player in my dnd game, and i think they’re playing a second warlock
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rosecreates · 4 months
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The favorite places of the BG3 Unholy Trio are as follows...
Sylve: She grew up in Rivington and after she became a mercenary and managed to earn herself a home in the Lower City, she found herself spending a lot of time in Elfsong Tavern to relax, and it soon became her favorite place.
Raven: The Bazaar of Menzoberranzan, where she often found a place to 'perch' and watch the people go to-and-fro, or spend time window shopping. Prior to being adopted into House Mizzrym she would also scam people, and even though she can't say she enjoyed having to make ends meet through conning, she can't deny it was fun fooling people into believing her.
Nimue: Prior to losing her memory, her favorite place was Bloomridge Park. Her foster parents took her there often, where she often had picnics with them and played with other children. After killing her foster parents when consumed by her dark urge when she was a preteen and covering up the murder out of fear, she was taken in by the Church dedicated to Corellon Larethian that she had often visited with her parents. She constantly visited the park at that point, watching the scenery from afar whilst drowning in her thoughts, if she wasn't praying at the Church for Corellon to purge the urges from her and forgive her for her sins or mourning her parents at the graveyard. After losing her memory and returning to Baldur's Gate in Act 3, she regains several memories when taken to Bloomridge Park and finds herself spending a lot of time there again to reminisce.
#{oc info}#{oc: sylve}#{oc: raven}#{oc: nimue}#nim having worshipped corellon before fel eventually took her to the bhaal temple is really sad actually because i very much make it clear-#that she for all intents and purposes is just an imitation of a high elf. she adores elven culture and takes pride in her identity as one-#and it WRECKED her when she realized she was a fake one and that corellon must surely despise her (i dunno if he actually does but)-#because why would he ever accept something like her. a bhaalspawn imitating a high elf. who has surely killed many elves at that-#including the family that took her in and i figure she probably slaughtered the church too which is just AGH. shes just wants to be a-#normal high elf. she probably had planned originally to become a cleric of corellon. her parents probably were clerics of him. and she-#wanted to be just like them. when it was realized the natural power she held and capability to become a sorcerer she maybe was gonna be-#like a sorcerer/cleric hybrid of sorts. but things didnt turn out that way. when she killed her parents she dropped any and all of her-#cleric training because she felt like she was too tainted to become a cleric now. focused more into sorcerer studies and maybe was trained-#by some sorcerer who she met at church. whenever she wasnt at bloomridge or the graveyard or praying for forgiveness ofc. and then-#she probably slaughtered her church as an adult and thats when fel came and took her to bhaal so haha :-D#nimue is not ok dear lord help her nkjgfbjkbgf
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gojonanami · 3 months
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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞
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❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞
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✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader
✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks
✧ wc: 8,180
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Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—
This was a curse — literally. 
Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 
The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 
But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 
It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 
He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 
He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 
“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 
“That was years ago—” 
“She has a key to your apartment—“ 
“So do you!” he glares. 
“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 
If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 
“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 
Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 
He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 
And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 
Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 
You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 
He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 
You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 
He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 
And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 
Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 
Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 
“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 
“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 
“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 
“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 
“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 
He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 
“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 
He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 
And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 
You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 
At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 
“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 
He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 
He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 
But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 
But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 
One he couldn’t dare to cross. 
But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 
Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 
Or at least, not his main problem. 
He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 
He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 
It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 
That should have been his first clue. 
Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 
Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 
….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—
This wasn’t helping. 
The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 
Fuck. 
No, he couldn’t. 
But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 
He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 
“Suguru, please—“ 
“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 
“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 
Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 
You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 
He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 
He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 
What the fuck is going on? 
He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 
He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 
He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 
He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 
“It’s not like you to call—“ 
“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 
Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 
“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 
She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 
“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 
“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 
He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 
And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 
Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 
“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 
“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 
His phone buzzed with texts from you: 
You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 
You: are you home? 
His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 
“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 
“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 
Another knock. 
“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 
“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 
He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 
“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 
“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 
Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 
“Suguru—“ 
“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 
Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 
“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 
“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 
He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 
He was so fucked. 
He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 
“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 
But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 
And he can’t hold back. 
His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 
And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 
“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 
And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 
“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 
You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 
“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 
Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 
He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 
“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 
You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”
When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 
“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.
“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 
And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 
“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 
And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 
The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 
Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 
“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 
Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 
And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 
In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 
He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 
You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 
Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 
“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 
“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 
He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 
Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 
No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 
Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 
“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 
As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 
Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 
He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 
“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 
“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 
And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 
Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 
“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 
“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 
And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 
You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 
But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 
“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 
And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 
And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 
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“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 
How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 
He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 
“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 
“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 
“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 
And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 
“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 
You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 
“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 
“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 
“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 
And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 
“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 
And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 
And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 
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“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 
Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 
“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 
He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 
He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 
Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 
“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 
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✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing
✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72
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angelltheninth · 2 months
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Sukuna Fucks You In and Out of Consciousness
Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, passing out, marathon sex, dom!Sukuna, double dick!Sukuna
A/N: If anyone would love doing this sort of shit it's Sukuna.
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There were never any illusions you had over keeping up with Sukuna's stamina in bed. After all you were a human, a Sorcerer yes, but still a human and he was the King of Curses. The gap was always gonna be there but you tried your best for him every night.
It was a lot to constantly be filled by his cock and to have his other cock rubbing your poor clit over and over, never giving it a rest. Your vision was already beginning to go black, "'Kuna- coming!"
Your high pitched moans spurred him on, his hands angling your hips upwards so his cock would reach in deep, ramming against your womb. Stars danced before your eyes as your back arched, fingers intertwined with the ones of his other two hands. His name came out of your mouth like a prayer or a curse. Both were the same to him.
"Keep your eyes on me, you won't want to miss this, baby." You couldn't obey him this time. Your body already slumped back on the futon, legs going limp around him. "Don't you dare pass out on me!" He yelled at you and grabbed you by the throat, squeezing gently, enough to make you gasp for breath. "I want you to see the moment I cream your pussy! Look down at it!" His voice echoed somewhere in the back of your head, going in and out. "There she is." Sukuna smirked down at you when your eyes opened, looking at the fuzzy, blurry form above you taking a clear shape. "Look at me cocks." He repeated again, this time more gently, letting go of your throat and instead pressing his hand to the back of your head.
"You're still fucking me." Sukuna sorted at your obvious statement. To you his stamina was out of this world, to him this was a regular night. "This second one." You reached to rub the tip of his other cock, "I want it to come too." With your confession Sukuna fucked you with even more force, making your pussy feel hot, making it clench again, pushing your close to your next orgasm. It was too much, but you wouldn't tell him to stop and you wouldn't stop looking at the way he fucked you. As soon as one cock stirred so did the other, you felt them both but only saw the one that shot thick ropes of come not just across your body but also your face.
"Again." You thought he was talking about going again, "Come for me again. Show me how slutty your pussy is."
Even before that orgasm hit you, in the back of your mind you knew, you wouldn't be able to stay awake, "I love you so much." So you said what you needed to before your body shook with pleasure again, inner walls milking his pulsing cock. Sukuna's grinning, proud face was the last sight you saw before losing consciousness, and the first sight you saw when you woke up hours after.
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sttoru · 5 months
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satoru hums a tune as he adjusts his sunglasses — putting them on the top of his head. he’s in a happy mood today; nothing or no one could wipe that big grin off his face. the reason?
“. . . gojo, hurry up.” megumi calls out whilst idly standing at the foot of the staircase that connected to the roads outside campus.
you smile as you see your lover gleefully walk down the stairs — jumping from one to the other. satoru’s smile was one you wish would never fade. ever.
“oh!” the white-haired sorcerer suddenly stops in his tracks. his sparkling eyes take in the sight before him and his heart skipped a beat at the realisation:
two of his favourite people were standing next to each other. waiting for him so they could go on their little (family) trip. satoru just had to capture this moment and put it in the album that’s dedicated to the both of you. it’s a must in his eyes.
“megumiiii,” satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and puts it in landscape mode, tongue peeking out at the corner of his lips to show just how deeply he was concentrating on getting the perfect shot, “step a bit closer—yep! jus’ like that!”
“can we not do this? we’re gonna miss the train and—” megumi starts off with a sigh and a faint embarrassed pout, though was quickly cut off as you pulled him closer to your body — coddling him like he was still the little child satoru and you had met a couple years back.
the blue haired boy sighs once again, however eventually gives in and awkwardly puts up a peace sign. you smile brightly in return and satoru was absolutely cheesing behind his phone.
“awwww, how adorable!” satoru grins once he has taken about twenty different pictures — each one special and a treasure he will forever cherish. after putting the best one as his phone’s new lock screen, he rushes down the stairs and steps in-between megumi and you.
one arm holds your body close to his by the waist, the other arm wraps around megumi’s shoulders. megumi reluctantly allows it since he didn’t want to ruin the light-hearted atmosphere. that fact alone makes satoru even happier;
“let’s go — i can’t wait to finally spend some quality time with two of my favourite people, hehe.”
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