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risuola · 8 months

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Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty <3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

“Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

“Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

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Gojo Satoru X Reader (pt. 2/final part)

CW: teacher-student relationship, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, begging, age gap, character death, angst, angst, angst

pt. 1

a/n: yup

In the days that followed, their interactions took on a new intensity.

The air between them crackled with unspoken desire, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at the slightest touch. During their training sessions, Gojo's gaze lingered on her form, his eyes burning with a hunger that mirrored the one she had glimpsed that fateful night.

Despite the unacknowledged shift in their dynamic, they fell into a new rhythm, a sensual dance that blurred the lines between mentor and student, between restraint and abandon.

She'd never experienced such an overwhelming sensory assault. Even during her most intense training sessions with Gojo, when the very ground beneath her feet would rupture and quake, the earth threatening to swallow her whole, there was always some measure of control.

Now, as he stalked toward her like a panther closing in on its prey, his eyes devoured every inch of her exposed flesh. His hands, rough from years of wielding cursed energy, skimmed along her curves, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. His mouth, hot and demanding, claimed hers with a fervor that stole the breath from her lungs.

Gojo Satoru was an unparalleled prodigy. And he would have his way with her.

She could not deny him, nor herself.

And so, the cycle would continue.

Each night, she would emerge from the shower, a vision of damp hair and milky skin, wearing nothing but his stolen shirts. The fabric, still warm from his body, would cling to her curves, the hem barely grazing her thighs. He would gather her into his lap, strong arms encircling her waist, as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. His breath, hot against her skin, would send shivers down her spine as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her shampoo, a heady mix of vanilla and jasmine.

His fingertips, calloused yet gentle, would tease her inner thighs, tracing patterns on the sensitive skin, inching ever closer to where she craved his touch the most. She would squirm in his embrace, a silent plea for more, as the heat between them built to a fever pitch.

Then, the nightly ritual would begin - a sensual dance that would end the same, regardless of whose bed they were in.

They were well past the point of no return.

Each night, the clothes would come off, and the lessons would begin.

She'd always been an adept student, and Gojo a relentless teacher, demanding complete mastery of her technique. And he would not stop until she had met his exacting standards.

Her training was intense, even brutal at times. He would push her to the brink, testing her limits, both physically and emotionally. But the rewards were more than worth the risk.

For each flawless execution, she would earn a tender kiss, his lips brushing against hers with a gentleness that belied the passion simmering beneath the surface. For each mistake, a playful smack, his hand connecting with her skin, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her body.

And for her best performances, he'd reward her with a delicious lick, his tongue tracing the contours of her body, tasting the salt on her skin, leaving her trembling and aching for more.

"Good girl," he'd purr, his hot breath ghosting across her bare pussy, his large hands holding her thighs apart. "Such a perfect little cunt."

His fingers would slide inside her, teasing, coaxing her to the precipice. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he'd murmur. "Tell me how much you want my cock."

"I need it," she'd plead, grinding against his hand. "Please, Gojo-sensei..."

And then he would stop, leaving her panting and unsatisfied.

"Not good enough, little one," he'd whisper, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Beg for me. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."

And the words would tumble from her lips. "Please, Gojo-sensei. Please fuck me. I need your cock. I need you to make me come."

And then, she'd get exactly what she wanted.

"That's it, baby girl," he'd coo as he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. He’d waste no time before he sank into her tight heat with a low, guttural moan. "That's my good girl. You feel so fucking good. Such a perfect little cunt. You were made for me, weren't you, baby?"

He'd fuck her with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing out her pleasure until she was screaming his name. He’d take his time to explore which parts of her made her tighten around him and which parts of her made her squeal.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock makes you feel." She'd lose count of her orgasms, her body trembling from the exertion. But he'd never stop. He'd keep going until she was a quivering mess, her voice hoarse from screaming his name. She was practically folded in half, the bed creaking beneath them as Gojo held her thighs in a bruising grip, fucking her into the mattress.

Then, when she was utterly spent, he'd finally allow himself release, filling her with his seed. She’d berated him the first time he didn’t pull out, and he was only able to console her with the promise of fulfilling her wish next time. It was during the second time that she realized that it was practically impossible to make this man cum anywhere else other than in her pussy.

"That's my good girl," he'd murmur as he held her close, peppering her face with kisses. "My perfect little slut."

In the afterglow, they would lie tangled together, limbs intertwined, hearts racing in unison. His fingers would card through her hair, soothing her as she drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would bring new challenges and new rewards.

She would never forget the nights they shared, moments stolen away from the world where she belonged to him completely. In the sanctuary of his embrace, she found a love that consumed her, a connection so profound that it seemed to transcend the very fabric of reality.

Their nights together were a symphony of passion, a dance of tender touches and whispered promises. He worshipped her body with a reverence that left her breathless, his fingertips tracing every curve and contour as if committing her to memory. In those moments, she felt cherished, adored, and utterly alive.

He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like the most beautiful creature in the world, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took her breath away. When he held her close, his strong arms wrapped around her, she felt safe, protected, and utterly content.

They would lay together for hours, talking about everything and nothing, sharing their hopes, dreams, and fears. He listened to her with rapt attention, his gaze never wavering, making her feel like the center of his universe. In those quiet moments, she found a connection that went beyond the physical, a meeting of minds and hearts that left her feeling understood and valued in a way she had never experienced before.

Sometimes, they would simply bask in each other's presence, their bodies intertwined as they drifted off to sleep. She loved the way he would pull her closer in his slumber, his breath warm against her neck, a subconscious reminder of his need for her even in his dreams.

In the mornings, he would wake her with soft kisses, his lips trailing along her skin in a gentle caress. They would make love languidly, savoring every touch and sensation, losing themselves in the pleasure of their union. Afterward, they would lay tangled together, his fingers idly playing with her hair as they talked and laughed, relishing the simple joy of being in each other's company.

Those nights were a precious gift, a time when the world outside ceased to exist, and they could simply be two people in love. She cherished every moment, every touch, every whispered endearment. In his arms, she found a happiness she had never known, a sense of belonging that filled her heart to bursting.

She knew that what they had was special, a once-in-a-lifetime connection that defied explanation. With him, she felt complete, whole in a way she had never thought possible. He was her soulmate, her other half, the missing piece that made her feel like she could conquer the world.

Those nights, filled with love, passion, and tender moments, were the ones she would always hold closest to her heart. They were a testament to the depth of their bond, a love that burned bright and fierce, a love that she knew would last a lifetime.

As she lay in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she knew that no matter what the future held, those nights would always be theirs. A secret world, a cherished memory, a love that would endure, even in the face of the challenges that lay ahead.

On the night before her graduation, she found herself consumed by anxiety. The impending trials weighed heavily on her mind, the culmination of weeks spent pushing herself to the limit. Failure was not an option; her future as a sorcerer depended on her success.

Gojo's absence throughout the day had been a constant distraction, his presence sorely missed as she struggled to focus on her own preparations. When she finally returned to her room that evening, she found him waiting for her.

"You look like hell," he remarked, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth. "You're one to talk. I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," he assured her, his hand gently stroking her back. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?"

"Nervous, but determined," she replied, her voice muffled against his chest. "I've worked too hard to let it all go to waste."

Gojo tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're a force to be reckoned with. Your power, your dedication—it's unmatched. You've got this, and I'll be right there, waiting to celebrate your victory."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei. I won't let you down."

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a wordless exchange of passion and reassurance. As they tumbled onto the bed, hands roaming and breath mingling, she allowed herself to be lost in the moment, pushing aside all thoughts of the challenges that lay ahead.

She never got to graduate.

In the dead of night, a call shattered the stillness, summoning Gojo to the school with urgent haste. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him upon his arrival. There, on a cold metal stretcher, lay the lifeless body of his beloved student and lover. The only way he could identify her was by the single white and blue acrylic nail that remained intact, a cruel reminder of the design he had encouraged her to get, so that she would carry a piece of him with her during her trials.

Questions swirled in his mind, tormenting him with possibilities. Did she think of him in her final moments? Did she wait for him to come to her rescue, only to be met with the crushing realization that he would never arrive? Or did she accept her fate, resigned to the knowledge that even he, with all his power, could not save her?

Time seemed to lose all meaning as he stood there, frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from her lifeless form. Emotions eluded him, leaving him hollow and numb. He couldn't even muster the strength to cry, his voice reduced to a feeble whisper of her name.

Yaga's condolences fell on deaf ears as he led Gojo out of the blood-scented room. The weight of his loss consumed him, draining him of any desire to linger. He made his way home, seeking solace in the familiarity of his bed, desperate to escape the suffocating reality that threatened to shatter his already fragile heart.

Sleep evaded him, and in the depths of his despair, he longed to reach out to her, knowing that her voice, her touch, could have soothed his aching soul. But she was gone, forever beyond his reach, leaving him with nothing but the agonizing realization that he had failed to protect the one person who mattered most.

In the silence of his room, his gaze fell upon the nightstand drawer, where a velvet box lay hidden, cradling a silver ring that would never find its intended recipient. A symbol of a future stolen, a love left unfulfilled.

And so, he sat there, alone in the darkness, the emptiness consuming him, as the weight of his loss threatened to crush his very existence.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader smut

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eoieopda · 9 months

Text

interlude: sundown (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader summary: as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives. au: darksided (masterlist), established relationship type: drabble | smut + fluff word count: 1.9k rating: 18+ cw: pov switch, min yoongi gets pegged 🙌🏻, afab!reader, needy & subby yoongi, v soft dom!reader, praise kink unlocked!!, anal fingering, sex w/ strap on, k*ss*ng (eek!) a/n 1: you thought i’d get through a(u)gust without a yoongi fic? pleaaaaase. this is part of the darksided series, so i recommend checking out the other installments first, just so you have all the context. this can be read as a stand-alone drabble, though! this one takes place after blindsided, btw. a/n 2: i don’t spend much time talkin’ ‘bout prep due to the word limit, but it is both implied & v important. be safe! 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You can’t say what came over you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, you know that much. The only explanation you can fall back on is that the feral part of your brain simply took over, and your inner construction worker popped out to say hello — but that’s not entirely accurate.

In reality, it was less of a greeting and more of a “Damn, baby! That ass.”

Mere meters away, your boyfriend is bent over the bookshelf he’s been working hard to assemble — a task you were politely banished from executing, not thirty minutes ago. When he finally registers what you just blurted out, he stands back up to his full height and glances over his shoulder at you. His expression lands somewhere between bewildered and tickled fucking pink.

“Did you just catcall me?”

“I — I think…” You’re more shocked than he is, it seems. Blinking slowly doesn’t help you process your actions any quicker, so you give up and grimace through your admission. “I might have?”

Of the two of you, it’s Yoongi that truly has all the audacity in the world. After setting his screwdriver down onto the coffee table, he crosses his arms loosely over his chest and bites back a smug grin.

“You think you know a person after seven entire years of dating,” he tuts. “Then, they turn around and harass you — in your own home, no less.” Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he shakes his head and sighs, “Life comes at you fast.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him with your incredulous mouth halfway open. It’s the most that anyone should expect from you at a time like this, when he’s looking at you like that — characteristically semi-flustered, and still so unshakably self-assured. With narrowed eyes, you opt to hone in on the former.

“You’re out here smuggling cake in broad daylight — looking downright bite-worthy —”

Peeling yourself off the couch, you cross over to him with your hands raised defensively. When you reach him, you plant those same hands on your hips and heave an exasperated sigh.

“What was I supposed to do? Pretend otherwise?”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow but says nothing, simply aiming his flat-lined smile your way. All it takes is your slow, expectant blinking for him to take the hint. Just like that, you fall into a well-practiced routine: him opening up to pull you into his chest, you lacing your arms around his waist, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

And even though you haven’t left the house all day, this is the first moment that truly feels like home. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s —

“Bite-worthy, huh?”

You can’t see his smirk, but you can hear it.

“Surely, this is not the first time this is being brought to your attention.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi concedes. His low chuckle tickles every vertebrae on its way down your spine. The tingling only intensifies when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “I just haven’t heard it from you before. You’re behind the curve, so to speak.”

You pause for two reasons: the subtle genius of his phrasing and the new bit of trivia he seems to be alluding to. Is he — ?

“You’ve pegged?” You ask, glancing curiously up at him.

The answer wouldn’t surprise you one way or another. More than anything, you’re impressed that the two of you still find things to learn about each other. That you can spend the better part of a decade with someone, side-by-side, and never run out of new conversations to have.

When he tilts his chin to look down at you, his expression is a perfect mirror of yours.

“You haven’t?”

Yoongi’s head crashes back against the pillows before his sigh can slip fully from his mouth. The impact seems to knock it loose; it floats away, above your bowed head. The sound gets lost somewhere underneath that of your open-mouthed kisses trailing so fucking softly across the bare skin of his chest.

If his heart stops with every flick of your tongue over one of his nipples, you resuscitate him just as quickly with praise.

Apparently, being told he’s beautiful has the same physiological effect on him as a shot of epinephrine.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans from deep in his chest when your mouth ventures far enough to kiss the tip of his cock. That action is fairly chaste, all things considered, but the way his pre-cum shines like gloss on your lips is beyond obscene.

You smile with your eyes alone as you take him into your mouth — and you think he’s beautiful?

He can’t think of a single prettier sight than you and your fluttering lashes, looking up at him like he’s the one that hung the stars in the sky. Ridiculous. It’s him that frays a little further at the edges with every glance down at you.

Pulling away with a lewd pop, you murmur, “You can be more vocal than that, can’t you, baby?”

Oh, god.

The smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart leap and his cock twitch. Untouched, it jumps and re-settles against his abdomen.

“Yes.” He fires off his response like a bullet at point-blank range, and you chuckle quietly at his eagerness. Breathless already, he amends, “Fuck yes.”

One eyebrow arches just enough to indicate that you expect a more detailed response. He should know better by now, shouldn’t he? He’s teased you this way a thousand times before, and it’s about time that he tastes his own medicine. Acknowledging that fact, he stoops to begging.

“Please. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

Nodding appreciatively, you trace your finger along the underside of his shaft and leave him on the brink of losing his goddamn mind. He’d gladly let you drive him insane this way, but you take that hand away and gesture for him to turn over. As you do, you hum, “And I want to see you on your knees, love.”

Yoongi takes your instructions and runs with them, barely careful enough to avoid knocking you backwards off the bed in the process. He settles on his knees, then looks back over his shoulder just in time to watch you pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

You look nervous, though you try to hide it. He’s no stranger to that worried crease between your eyebrows; and he can’t help the downward curve of his mouth when he sees it.

There’s never been — and will never be — a person he trusts more than you. Careful, perfect, sweet. You couldn’t hurt him even if you tried, and he knows without question that you never would. You, however, seem less sure of that.

Yoongi has to twist back around to do it, but he cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you deep, with everything he has.

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours a second time. It carries more meaning than that; he suspects you hear each one.

I trust you.

It’s okay.

Already reassured, you whisper back to him with darkening eyes, “Elbows on the mattress, then, Min Yoongi.”

To say that he collapses against the comforter would be an understatement. He’s certifiably boneless the second your fingertips trace down the length of his spine, though his hunger for your touch starts him shivering.

“Relax, sweet thing,” you tell him. To encourage him, you lean forward and press your lips to the small of his back; instantly, you soothe the tension his body holds as if you’ve flipped a switch. It’s automatic, just like the low groan he emits when you murmur, “Good boy.”

The quiet that follows is ultimately interrupted by the faint slosh of liquid. He has to beg himself not to clench at the mere thought of your slicked fingers, so he instead lets his mouth fall open when he feels them glide over his rim. Needier than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life, Yoongi whimpers.

It’s a pathetic little sound, but he doesn’t dare to try and swallow it down. He’ll give you everything; every pleading sigh and shuddered moan, all of it.

And — as a courtesy — he’ll refrain from calling you a liar because there is no fucking way that you haven’t done this before.

It’s simply unbelievable with how expertly you navigate the intricacies of his body, applying perfect pressure where he craves it. With the way you translate his incoherent whining to a plea for more, giving him exactly what he wants.

Two fingers deep, you tease, “So greedy, aren’t you baby?”

But there’s no harshness to your tone, so soft around the edges. In fact, your little snicker suggests that you’re impressed. It takes all he has not to cum at the sound alone.

“Just for you — ” He responds through gritted teeth, blissed-out eyes squeezing shut. “— F-fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

When you slip away from him, he proves your point, whining petulantly. You soothe him with an affectionate squeeze to his ass cheek, chuckling all the while. “Should we fix that, then?”

Yoongi has no idea what words he slurs in an attempt to answer that question, but he hopes he tells you how badly he craves your cock. He must, he figures, because he hears the telltale glide of the nightstand’s top drawer when you pull it open.

His head lifts from the blankets below to catch a glimpse of you settling the harness over your hips. For a moment, he forgets when, where, and who he is. The only reality he can currently comprehend is the one in which you’re running your fist down black silicone as if it’s a part of you, spreading slick from a bottle.

But then you disappear from his line of sight, leaving him disoriented. He misses you already.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look on your knees.”

The mattress dips under your weight, signaling to him that you’ve settled behind him once again. You tap the length of the dildo against his skin, prompting him to groan. Still teasing, you ask, “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, angel?”

Shit, shit, shit.

Yoongi feels the tip hovering near his hole and he can’t keep his racing heart in check, so desperate that he’s practically vibrating. Your next words pull him further apart; they sound especially filthy in your light, almost reverent tone.

“Show me how well you can take me.”

He plans to do just that.

Slowly pushing back against you, Yoongi sinks down your length until that indescribable fullness leaves him starry-eyed and keening. After a few measured breaths, the ache subsides and gives way to pure pleasure.

Your praise is gentle, though the effect it has on him is earth-shattering. “Just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

Withdrawing, he leans forward onto his elbows just to repeat the motion, losing himself more and more with every pass.

“Shit,” he hiccups, head drooping so that his forehead meets his forearms.

He only grows more eager when your hands claim his hips. You guide his body back to yours every time he leaves; whispering little wishes that he fuck himself the way you swear he deserves.

You must hear his ragged breaths over the clap of his skin against yours and sense that he’s close because you hum, “Sweet thing. Are you going to make yourself cum?”

Yoongi shakes his head fervently, although not for the reason you might think.

“Want you to,” he begs on an exhale. “Please, make me cum. N-need you deeper.”

Small hands flatten against his shoulder blades and press him further down against the bed. With fists full of the sheets, Yoongi gives you a desperate nod, signaling you to take over.

And you do — without the hesitation he saw in you earlier, proving for the millionth time that you know exactly how to make him fall apart.

And he does — with a cry, so delirious and fucked out that he goes boneless underneath you.

When his body eventually stops trembling, Yoongi feels you pull out of him. He hears the quiet click as you unfasten the harness. Shortly after, his senses are overwhelmed with the warmth of your body coming down gently to cover his, warding off the emptiness that started to settle in your absence.

“You’re perfect.” You mumble with lips pressed to his sweat-slicked neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Funnily enough, he was just thinking the same thing about you.

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#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #bts imagine #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #myg #jade writes #re: darksided #re: interlude sundown #kvanity

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nanaminsmoon · 10 months

Text

businessrival!Toji x blackfem!reader

a/n: i’m in a little funk rn so i’m just clearing out my drafts

cw: unprotected sex, age gap (reader is early 20s and toji is late 30s),

wc: 1235

your father’s businessrival!Toji who wants to see your father’s livelihood perish from beneath him. leaving him with nothing but debris of what once was a successful career.

your father’s businessrival!Toji whose plans to destroy your family’s business all end in failure, making your father even more smug.

it’s businessrival!Toji‘s turn to be smug when he scans the entourage surrounding your father and, among all the brown-nosing executives, he sees a pretty girl in a floor length black dress, diamonds on her bracelets dazzling from all the way across the room. he knew that your father had a daughter, but he never knew his hands would be fighting rubbing his growing bulge through his dress trousers at the first sight of her. your beauty was felt by everyone in the room; the damn oxygen levels dropped when you walked in, because everyone took a deep breath at the same time.

enthralled, emerald eyes were glued on you all night, because even a man as inured to beautiful women as businessrival!Toji was taken aback by the way that dress held you in a way that would make your own skin jealous. his burning gaze did not extinguish, even during the few times your eyelashes batted towards him. he assumed you knew who he was—you had to have heard his name, clothed in fury, as it seeped through the cracks surrounding your father’s office door.

businessrival!Toji who tried to ignore you, but his body reacted before his mind could will it not to. mid-conversation with a potential investor, his ears twitched at the sound of you crooning something that sounded like,

“daddy, when can we go home?”. he couldn’t help the way the scar on the corner of his mouth lifted at the sound of your voice. he didn’t know how he knew it was you, but he just did. and when he looked over his shoulder, his eyes met yours momentarily before you looked away in fear. from what you said, to seeing your face up close, the familiar twitching underneath his boxers hatched the plan he knew would destroy your father. in a way he had never even conceived before tonight.

businessrival!Toji who sees you stood alone on a balcony, leaning on the railing, and seemingly staring into the night sky. he quietly sauntered his way towards you, and you hadn’t noticed his presence, until you felt two taps on your shoulder.

“lonely?”, he smirked, and you shuddered momentarily as you were faced with a broad chest, covered by a black dress shirt. looking up, you saw a familiar face that caused you to back up a few steps. to your luck, your heels got caught on the end of your dress and, as you were about to fall flat on your behind, businessrival!Toji‘s strong arms caught you. now you were stood; face to face, chest to chest, with his arm around your waist (or whatever rihanna said in that one song).

“you okay?”, he spoke. his voice was deep in timbre, but its volume was no more than a whisper. the way his eyes met with yours was breath-taking, and you couldn’t muster up anything more than a nod. and something that was meant to come out as a ‘yes’, but was really just a breath. left arm still wrapped around your waist, the back of his right hand slid across your cheek, knuckles kissing it as if he feared you flying away from him and leaving him there alone. and horny.

“you’re freezing. here”, he, finally, let go of you to take off his blazer, and he gently wrapped it around you. unbeknownst to you, this was the softest he was going to be with you tonight. because, half an hour of flirtatious conversation later, he had you bent over a table of a conference room he had found. your dress had been long discarded, your thong now replaced by his hands gripping your hips. your hands lay on top of his, your freshly manicured nails imprinting crescents onto them.

businessrival!Toji wanted to be gentle with you. he really did. you felt so fragile, and he didn’t want to break you, but the warmth he felt hugging him when he first entered you had cut off the connection between his mind and his hips. both working separately, with different goals. his mind wanted revenge on a man who, at this point, he couldn’t even name. and his hips sought more of you; deep wasn’t deep enough, and it was making him lose it. you had beguiled him—tightening around his length, sucking him in until he was so far in he couldn’t find it in himself to get out.

he saw you as a mythical being that sat atop a mound of earth, vocal cords vibrating together to produce euphonies that made his head spin. he felt the vibrations course through him—starting at the place his hips met your ass cheeks. they reverberated throughout his entire body, creating a frequency that hushed his voice of better judgement. this had been a plan to destroy the man you call your father, but he was destroying himself. and he didn’t want to stop.

“fffuck—toji w-wait”, you pulled your hands from his, and placed them on his toned abdomen. pushing him was like pushing a damn wall, but you needed a break. when you got into the room, he had just slammed himself into you, not even prepping you beforehand. he had tried to slowly sheath himself into you, but once he felt how tight and wet you were, all self-control left him. the stretch stung for a minute or so, until you wanted him to fuck you until your brain melted and starting dripping from your ears. and that’s exactly what he was doing.

businessrival!Toji who fucked you mercilessly, his mind set on hearing you say those two syllables that had been making his dress trousers tighter since he heard you say them. he needed to be the only person who ever heard that word from you. you could think of other things to call your father later. he needed to be the only man you called that.

“wait for what, princess?”, your pussy’s grip on him was mind-numbing at the sound of that word; princess.

“you like being my princess?”, he chuckled to himself.

“y-yes”, you whined out.

“tell me how good it feels, princess. tell daddy how good he’s making you feel”,

“you-u a-ain’t my daddy”, you breathed out, eyes boring into the back of their sockets.

“then imma fuck you until i am.”,

and that’s what he did. by the end of the night, you were sat in his lap—swathed in his dress shirt and a blanket a guard of his had brought, thinking of new names to call the man he hated more than anything. a part of businessrival!Toji found solace in knowing you would return to your familial home smelling like the man who spent each day fighting tooth and nail to destroy everything your family had built. and the plan to destroy your father hadn’t ended, it had just…taken a new direction.

#nanaminsmooninc #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black y/n #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji x black reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro

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fanta2y · 3 months

Text

Inherently Worthy Pt.Three

FINALLY ITS DONE HOLY SHIT.

I dont know how I feel about it, I think i like it? but i mainly hope you guys like it.

cw: talk of self-worth issues, some description of blood and gore.

word count: 2.4k

part four

Your recovery had been smooth sailing. Being told by a very stern and scary Shoko that you weren’t allowed on any missions, especially solo ones, for at least a month. And then after that, you could only go on missions with low-grade curses.

You were embarrassed to say the least, being stripped of your strength so easily. Forced to lay in bed all day, do minimal training so not to push yourself. You felt so weak, so coddled. It made you want the Earth to swallow you whole and never spit you out.

The missions you were scheduled for were a little bit insulting to say the least, low class curses that could easily be exercised by first years were the only thing Sukuna allowed you to do. And it was always him that escorted you, he declined any and all solo missions just to be sure his schedule was cleared for you.

It made the guilt increase tenfold, it ate away at you. Every night before bed you stared at the ceiling, sleep eluding you as you wondered and wondered.

Everytime you closed your eyes you were met with the image of Sukuna crying, not eating, sitting by your bedside as you rested blissfully unaware of the pain you were causing. Just because you were too weak, too cocky, to exercise a stupid curse.

The resentment, the annoyance, he must feel. Having to practically babysit you day in and day out. It irritated you that it was always him, there were plenty of other sorcerers who could accompany you. You were sure that he would much rather be off doing his own solo missions, earning the money you know he needs to take care of himself and his younger brother.

Many nights you simply couldn’t sleep, you would find yourself pacing your room as the thoughts consumed you. You wanted to free him of you, since all you were doing was weighing him down.

No matter how much you enjoyed his constant company and warmth, he would help you and guide you. Making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard and that your recovery was going smoothly.

In any other circumstance, you might even think that he felt the same way. With the way he hovered over you, had cooked for you, even carried you home that one time on a mission where you twisted your ankle. No matter how many times you assured him you could walk just fine on your own, he insisted on carrying you all the way back. Not even thinking of letting you go until you were seated on the edge of your bed.

It made your cheeks flush whenever you thought to hard about it, you were sure you saw a warm small smile on his lips as he took your shoes off. Gently rubbing the bruising skin on your ankle.

But it was probably just a trick of the light. Had to of been. Too tired and your mind too muddled to properly process what was right in front of you.

It was after that night that you had made the executive decision to avoid him.

Every time you saw him in the halls, you would quickly move past him or simply turn the other way. You began training alone again, opting to do it within the hours when you knew he wouldn’t be awake or around. You were determined to show him that you were fine and that he was able to get back to his own life guilt-free. He didn’t need to pity you any longer.

You currently found yourself sitting outside, just finished up an easy training session with some of the other second years. You could tell they were still going a bit easy on you, and it was probably for the best. Not that it didn’t still bruise your healing ego.

Eyes closed, face leaned up towards the sun high in the sky. Soaking up the rays with an easy smile on your face. You stayed like this for a while, listening to the trees swaying in the wind, the birds chirping peacefully above you. It all felt serene, you could almost let your worries fly away for a moment.

Until a shadow moved over your face, you peeked one eye open and saw the last face you wanted to see.

Ryo.

At seeing it was him, you shut your eyes again. Humming noncommittally to his presence, hoping that if you didn’t entertain him that he would get bored and leave you alone. You didn’t really want to get up from this spot.

“What have you been up too?” He asks, a certain strain to his voice that you wouldn’t let yourself think to much about.

If you truly wanted him to be free of you, than you had to detach yourself as well. No matter how much effort it took you to swallow down the question of what was wrong. No matter how much you wanted to simply tug him down next to you like you would have done before.

But this was better, this was what he deserved.

He deserved someone better than you.

You willed yourself not to wince outwardly at your own thoughts, “Training, resting, you know the usual.” You replied, hoping to sound bored.

He sighed, and you could hear his eyebrows pinching together from where you sat. Didn’t even have to open your eyes to vividly imagine the look on his face, the emotions in his eyes.

Everyone else thought he was a tough cookie to crack, a hard person to read. But you never understood that, his emotions always showed on his face. And if not there, then you just had to look in his eyes. And in those pools of red, you would find them swirling around in the colors and flecks of gold.

You were always able to tell what he was feeling, how he was doing. You figured no one else looked hard enough to see him like you did.

The shadow moved from your face, the sun pouring down on your skin once again. You had released a deep sigh at his departure, but then you felt his presence shift next to you.

He had sat down, leaning on the very same tree you were. Your shoulders brushed together, and It had been almost a week since you guys had said more than 3 words to each other. Let alone been this close.

You almost recoiled at the shock that ran down your arm, the goosebumps that erupted along your skin.

You felt pathetic.

“Are yo-..”

“Im fine.”

This time you did recoil, you cut him off with harsh words. The irritation you felt at your own patheticness spilled out onto him. Yet again pushing your issues and making them his.

You wanted to scream.

“What is your problem?” He asked, the anger he felt bubbling in his own stomach showing. Sukuna was always a blunt person, never had a problem telling people off when they made him angry. He always had the fire power to back up what he was saying, so he never saw a problem with it.

“I dont have one.” You kept your eyes shut, hoping to force down the annoyance you felt. God, does he not take a hint? You were trying so hard to just push him away and he was making it the most difficult task on planet earth.

He scoffed, “Clearly.” If your eyes were open, you would be rolling them. You and Sukuna had always got into little spats before, your kind nature and his lack there of tended to butt heads more times than not. But you both had never been mean to eachother, not intentionally. You knew Sukuna was blunt, but never harsh. Not unless it was true.

“What do you want from me, Sukuna?” Your voice was cold, and his last name felt foreign on your lips.

You felt him freeze next to you, clearly not expecting your words. Before you could even regret what you had said. He left without another word. You heard his stomping feet, betraying his anger, as he became further and further away from you.

The hot tears pricked at your eyes, guilt and regret pooling through you. You couldn’t even make up your mind, him hating you made things so much easier. He didn’t have to hide behind pity and obligation to take care of you.

Then why did it hurt so much?

Why could you feel your heart shattering into sharp edges, cutting through your lungs and up your throat. Making each shaky breath feel like nails scrapping down your insides. You could almost convince yourself that you tasted blood as it pooled in your mouth, but you knew it wasn’t there. It should’ve been. Maybe it would be a proper punishment for all your failures.

–

You are sitting on your desk, papers strewn about as you attempt to finish the work that Gojo had assigned. Some stupid essay on techniques or whatever. You knew he didn’t actually grade them, and you were pretty sure you were the only one that did them. But the perfectionist in you that preened at the praise couldn’t stop yourself from pouring in hours of your time.

Typing away idly at the computer, flipping through books and articles. You heard a harsh knock on your door before you could even really respond, the door was forced open.

Your head whips back to catch view of your intruder, and at the sight of bubblegum pink hair, you felt your heart sink into the depths. You attempted to school your reaction, return your pristine poker face that you had been attempting to prefect in his presence.

The door slammed shut behind him, and despite your best efforts you felt your body flinch. Tensing muscles curling in tight on yourself, you looked up at him with the best glare you could muster.

~His eyes softened at the display, he intentionally softened his movements. Quelling his anger if it mean’t you wouldn’t be scared of him.~

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

At that statement, your eyes flittered from his face to the hands in your lap. You tried to get yourself together and put on the show you’ve been performing for weeks at this point.

“I haven’t.” You kept your words short, knowing that if you talked for long enough you would just spill all of your secrets. Everything you had shoved deep into a box, only letting the emotions that had formed and shifted into thick tar that coated your mind, only letting it show in the darkest of nights. That was for your eyes only.

In the moment of your unfocus, you didn’t realize how close he had gotten. Quickly swirling your chair around to face him, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips. His arms caging you into the chair you were sitting in, his face mere inches from yours.

You could feel his breath billowing over your face, his fingers curled around your chin. Forcing your eyes to meet his, wide with shock as the pink dusted your cheeks. The proximity of your bodies getting to your head. His eyes were calculating, searching. He was searching your face for something, you couldn’t tell if he found it or not.

“You have.” His voice was softer, lower. It sent shivers down your spine to hear it so close, you were stunned into silence. Trying not to choke on your own saliva.

“Suku-”

“Not my name.”

You were attempting to force down the blush that was crawling up your neck, turning the tips of your ears a shade of pink. A sigh bubbling past your lips, fighting with yourself on your next move. You had always called him Ryo, ever since he gave you his first name. The nickname had rolled off the tongue, and when you first said it you weren’t met with a fist in your face. So you considered that a win all on its own.

Ever since this whole “distance” thing, you had opted to call him Sukuna. This first time you did it, in the training field. He stormed away, clearly upset at the distance he didn’t understand. His anger confused you, but you figured that if you wanted this to work then trying to figure him out wasn’t your job anymore.

His last name leaving your mouth had always left a lingering bad taste, it felt wrong in every sense of the word. And you could tell that every time it graced his ears coming from your lips, his scowl deepened and he rarely gave you a response. Not that you were speaking to him directly much these days anyway.

“Ryo.” You whispered, eyes wanting to look anywhere but his. Darting around the walls behind him, even focusing on a piece of dishelved hair. Your fingers itched to put it back in place, to run your fingers through the surprisingly soft locks.

He hummed at his name, a small smile gracing his features.

“What’s been going?” His voice still that soft timbre that made your bones feel like jelly beneath your skin. His eyes filled with so much care, so much worry.

You felt the low voice in the back of your mind, the one you had been entertaining more and more these past few weeks, “It’s pity.” It says, its voice like tendrils curling around your mind.

“He could never love someone like you.” It reminded you, like it had every moment since that fateful day. Since that wretched curse sunk its filthy claws into you. It almost felt like it had left a piece of it with you, taking refuge in your mind. Plaguing you with thoughts of your own uselessness.

But you knew that the voice had always been there, always reminding you to go that extra mile in training. To do that extra set, to take on that extra mission. To ask Gojo for private training sessions every weekend, leaving you with no rest.

It had just gotten louder, and you had started listening again.

You attempted to push him away, trying to pull the seat out of his strong grip. But of course, you were too weak. He was stronger than you, always had been always will be.

It was the pitiful show of strength. Him speaking to you soft and sweet, which in any other circumstances would have made you spill. It almost had.

This time, it filled you with frustration and anger. You wanted to bite and claw and tear, you wanted to feel your nails sink into flesh and feel the warm blood pool through your fingers. Even just to prove that you could, that you were strong enough.

But instead, all that anger, all those boiling and bubbling emotions poured into one statement.

“Stop pretending like you care."

tag lists: @moonmalice (if anyone else wants to be added then just comment!)

authors note: OMGGG THINGS ARE GETTING TENSEEE. I wanted to characterize this Sukuna as also being a bit confused about his feelings for you, but after that moment by the tree, he figures it out. which is what prompts him to come find you in your dorm ;) but yeah, i hope you guys enjoyyyy, im thinking of doing like 2 MAYBE 3 more parts depending on how it writes. yeah thank you for readinggg!! much love <333

#sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujustu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #angst #sukuna angst #sukuna fanfiction #sukuna ryomen fanfiction #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #multipart fanfiction #thank you for readinggg #hope you enjoy <3 #🪷 fantas flowers

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swampstew · 1 year

Text

Doffy doing Doffy things

Oh shiiit its Yandere time! Actual human garbage Donquixote Doflamingo laid his shielded eyes on your frame and his mask of indifference turned mischievous. With a flick of his wrists, you're entangled by the puppet master who steals you away to be a part of his family, murdering yours along the way.

WC: 641 CW: Spicy; not-gender specific reader; Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo; kidnapping reader; consent/non con/dubious consent and maybe Stockholm syndrome?; bdsm/ doffy dom and reader sub; orgasm denial/edging; murder and very unhealthy/somewhat abusive relationship dynamics; reader is a captive with privileges. Minors DNI - you will be blocked

He might already be canon Yandere? Anyways its no secret the Doflamingo considers himself a god amongst the filth, taking whatever or whomever he wants. I mean, he took over an entire kingdom ffs. So the day he happens upon you is also the last day of your old life as he snatches you away with his strings and so begins the rest of your life at the mercy of his puppet strings. He was content with simply taking you but you had some loyal allies who tried to fight him – they’re all dead now and he is not sorry about it.

Why did Doffy take you? Simply put, he saw something in you that made you stand out from the trash. And he’s a pirate first and foremost so he saw your shine and took you. Being his love doll is a bonus (for him). You’re treated with the utmost respect amongst his staff and lower subordinates. The inner circle is a bit…guarded…so you always feel like you’re walking on eggshells. They’re also all assholes, every one of them, so it’s a sucky time for you. Its not until Doffy gives you executive privileges and makes you in charge of punishments that they finally fuck off, since you’d get to see out their punishments for bullying you specifically which was now a punishable offense. Baby 5 is the closest thing you’ll have to a close friend but she’d sell you out to Doffy for an ice cream cone so keep secrets close to your chest.

The first rule is that you have no boundaries with Doffy. Boundaries mean secrets (it doesn’t and we wholly endorse them here at Swampstew Inc.) and he won’t have you betray him. Not when he feels like he’s asking for so little while giving you more than you could ever imagine. Imagine him to be your insane, sugar daddy and give him his due love if you want to survive him. Obviously you’re not to see or sleep with anyone but him, he’ll do his best to uphold his side of this agreement between you (and does make an effort which shocks everyone). You’re not really allowed to say no to him. Saying no implies you don’t love him and if you don’t love him…remind him why he keeps you around for? Doffy doesn’t feel convinced until you make a dramatic statement.

Adjusting to Doffy’s tastes is harder for you to do but by god do you do it. He has privileged and expensive taste so its not entirely terrible. The other bit is more complicated. If you thought Doffy was insane before, he’s a sadist in bed. That’s not to say you won’t find or achieve orgasm! It will just be so prolonged that you’ll think you’ve gone mad and he is providing you with heaven when he finally gives it to you. Or if he’s feeling particularly nasty, he’ll break out the whips and other leather toys, ready to verbally humiliate you over several hours.

Your life gets better and worse in equal balance. You’d never had wealth or privilege like you did with Doffy, at the same time you’re still basically his captive. He did say you’re free but you’re his and you’re never to leave his side. Don��t run, he’ll enjoy punishing you. And then he’ll enjoy manipulating your actions with his power for days, weeks, months even depending on how petty he feels. He’s a real demon and you’re his favorite toy. Scratch that, a pet maybe. Toys can break but a pet gets spoiled when its good and punished when its bad. Yes, he likes that much better.

#donquixote doflamingo #cw yandere #doflamingo x reader #swampstew bedtime stories #cw dubcon #doflamingo x you #swampstew #swampstew stories #cw bd/sm #oh yandere!#cw noncon #doffy x reader #op doflamingo #doffy #one piece doflamingo #dofl

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seelestia · 2 years

Note

hi lia!!! i love your writing sm especially REDAMANCY IN YOUR GAZE. !!! so nicely written and hits me right in the feels ;w;

anywhoo i'm here to submit a request! hope this sparks your inspiration but if not feel free to delete it, ok? no pressure <3

i'm curious to see you writing angst, so can we perhaps have zhongli, xiao, kazuha, and itto with the situation/prompt: 'seeing their s/o reader dying'? bonus brownie points if reader died in their arms c: yeah i woke up and chose violence today ahah it can be in whatever format you feel most comfortable with!

ps. just reject this if you feel uncomfortable with the concept!! i didn't see a rule against this so i thought i'd drop by and ask. thank you and have a nice day <3 <3 <3

- 💠

★彡 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃.

❝𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.❞

SUMMARY. you have left with a piece of their heart and you're never coming back. or in which you spend your last moments in your lover's arms, but you are already beyond saving.

CHARACTERS. xiao, kazuha, zhongli, itto.

GENRE. angst, established relationship, hurt with no comfort.

CW. character death (no specified cause), mentions of blood (no specified injuries), unintended anger outburst + shinobu cameo in itto's part.

THOUGHTS. thank you for liking my writing and sending in this painful request <3 i'm unsure how well i executed this and i'm looking for room to improve — but for now, enjoy this angst that me and 💠 anonnie offered! >:)

✰ masterlist.

XIAO's words fail him, a failure stuck at the back of his throat from the deepest parts of his beating heart. Such a contrast to your heart that no longer thumps at the same tempo as his.

He is supposed to be used to this — no, he should have grown used to this already.

The putrid stench of death, the pools of scarlet red on the ground and his clothes, the void in his chest that he can't explain every single time.

For eons and eons, Xiao has seen lives perish before his eyes; his comrades, innocent lives, monsters, all of them. That is what he is meant to do; an Adeptus lives to bear pain, to shoulder it with resilience.

So, then, what is this feeling? Ache like never before, a longing for a different outcome, a sense of denial he is unfamiliar with.

Xiao stares blankly at your peaceful face, eyes closed and undisturbed. As if you are only lulled by the soft tune of slumber and merely sleeping in his arms — but that is no more than wishful thinking, he knows this.

Yet, still, he dares to hope.

How ironic, the Yaksha has never gotten along well with the concept of hope. But here he is, gathering the littlest courage to hope that you'd snap open your eyes and laugh at his forlorn expression like you always would.

But you don't, and Xiao realizes he is nothing but a hypocrite.

The same pain he is supposed to shoulder oh-so fearlessly is here, gnawing at his heart and consuming it alive — for once, Alatus doesn't think he can bear it any longer.

He is alone all over again.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

Death, an old friend of KAZUHA's that he never wishes to confront ever again. But that statement only reeks of blissful ignorance, doesn't it?

Death casts its gaze on whom it wishes and it takes and it takes, that is the natural course of life — yet, it has become far too familiar of an acquaintance in his life that Kazuha can't help but despise it.

In the back of his mind, Kazuha sees a vision he thought he has long bid his goodbyes to already. The booming flash of thunder, a sword pierced through the floorboard of the Tenshukaku, a fallen friend and a reminder that he was far too late.

This moment is all too familiar.

The darkening clouds above his head, his hands that cradle you close, and your scent that is growing fainter and fainter by the second. Kazuha rests his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his cries against your skin; but you are as cold as ice and snow, so unbelievably cold.

Has the curse of fate come to take from him again? Kazuha's heart is only one, but death seems to favor him so much that it keeps taking pieces of his soul little by little.

Once, a lingering pain he learnt to move on from. Twice, he lets it be this time. Thrice, he begins questioning, just what more does it want from him? His family, his friend, now his one and only lover; Kazuha isn't sure what is left of him now. So, so many have been taken away from him.

"[Y/N]," Kazuha feels ashamed of the way his voice breaks as he whispers your name. He can't even speak properly, but how can he when you lay so feebly in his arms? One movement and it feels as if you'll crumble to dust, unreachable and away from his grasp.

He still has so many haiku's to read to you, songs he wants you to listen to, places he wants to see with your hand in his. So many of them, yet those dreams are nothing but regrets now.

Death will never leave him alone, will it? Even if tears stain his cheeks, even if he pleads with his life, even if he wishes to trade his life for yours, Kazuha is powerless.

"I love you," the man presses his lips to your forehead, he spares no mind to the tears falling down his cheeks like a stream of water he'd drink a fistful from during his travels.

One last time, just one more. But his words fall on deaf ears, for you are already gone and you're not coming back.

Yet again, death has torn away another piece of Kaedehara Kazuha's heart.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ZHONGLI drowns himself in complacent silence. He says nothing, he has nothing to say. The rueful sigh that escapes his lips is the only indication of the lid placed over the gaping sorrow in his chest.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. If he cries, then would it have changed this outcome? No, it wouldn't. If he cries, then would it have lifted this pain in his chest for a brief moment? Perhaps, it would.

But if Zhongli allows tears to cloud his eyes, then these last few moments with you will blur his vision. Fate cannot be changed nor can it be severed, all he can do is embrace it wholeheartedly.

"Even if it hurts?" A ghost-like whisper hovers faintly above his ears, trying to shake his resolve. Zhongli affirms himself, "Even if it hurts." He doesn't acknowledge the littlest speck of desire to falter and say otherwise in the corner of his mind.

Even if it hurts.

After all this time, you are still as beautiful as the first day he laid eyes on you, Zhongli smiles as he closes your eyes with the palm of his hand.

Those gem-like [E/C] irises of yours that always stare back at his with such affection, your voice that greets his ears like a gentle melody, the raindrops of love you shower him in so generously.

He can't help but reminisce.

After all, reminiscence is one of, if not the most, loyal friend of his, unbound by erosion of time as long as there is someone who lives to tell the tale. Zhongli knows the story of you shall live, for he will be the one to tell it.

"Rest well, my love."

He will not forget you.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. Yet, that day, the corners of his amber eyes begin to dampen just a little.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ITTO swears he sees his life flashes before his eyes. He is frantic, flighty even as if waiting for someone to get this over with and pinch him awake. This feels like a nightmare, it's just a bad dream, right?

But the warm pool of blood pouring onto his clothes is real, too real to just be a part of his imagination.

No, no, no, this can't be happening.

"Shinobu—" Itto calls out to his deputy leader hurriedly, agitation all too present in his voice. But the anxiety in his stomach churns even worse when he sees the mortified look in Shinobu's eyes; he doesn't like what it alludes to, not one bit.

He pleads almost desperately, "They'll be okay, right? Right?!" Shinobu has never lied to him, she always tells him the truth and so, he waits for an answer.

Reassurance, some hope that everything will be alright, just anything — but he receives no more than silence. And it angers him, Itto can feel the frustration rushing through his veins to his heart and to his head.

His grip on your frail body tightens and a pained holler tears itself from his throat, "Say something, dammit!" But he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean to yell so harshly at her. He isn't usually like this, what is going on?

When in reality, the answer to his question is right there in his arms; your frail figure lying in his embrace is just a fact waiting to be acknowledged, but he doesn't want to accept it.

Do you expect him to just accept it like that so easily? You know he can't do that, he just can't.

"There is still hope, there is still hope," Itto chants to himself, but even a fool would know those words are nothing more than empty reassurance.

The so-called strongest Oni in Inazuma is so out of it Shinobu can't even gather the courage to point out the truth.

What will become of her boss if she tells him that you are no longer breathing?

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #itto x reader #seelestial.inks

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stephensmithuk · 1 month

Text

"We should swing in a row at Newgate in six weeks’ time!"

CW for discussions of the mechanics of capital punishment.

Newgate was one of the places in London that you least wanted to end up for most of the second millennium. Located near the "New Gate" of the City Walls, it began life in 1188 as a collection of cells to hold those awaiting trial.

It had a rather long and dark history, with many famous inmates (such as Daniel Defoe and of particular relevance here, Oscar Wilde spent some time), quite a lot of abuses and generally unpleasant conditions. The prison of this period dated from 1782, the third on the site. The second had been almost finished in 1780 when it was set on fire during the Gordon Riots, an anti-Catholic outbreak of disorder that saw 300-700 deaths. Charles Dickens used it as the backdrop for Barnaby Rudge, one of his lesser-known novels, possibly due to the limited number of adaptations. Other works of his set there included Oliver Twist, where Fagin spends his final night.

It was attached to the criminal courts colloquially known as "the Old Bailey" after the street is was on. By 1891, it had become the Central Criminal Court, dealing with high-profile cases from across England.

Many people only left Newgate for their meeting with the hangman. In 1783, London's gallows were moved from Tyburn to the front of Newgate prison. Until 1868 (three years after the opening of the first bit of the Underground!), these executions would still be done in public. Prisoners would take their final walk along Dead Man's Walk, over the quicklime-covered bodies of the previously executed under the flagstones, before coming out to see the crowds of spectators, looking forward to the show. It was quite common in the Bloody Code days for pickpockets to operate at the executions of people hanging for theft. The nearby Magpie & Stump pub would hire out upper rooms for those wanting a better view and also send the condemned a final pint.

After the end of public executions, the gallows were moved inside the facility. From 1881, a dedicated execution shed was built where up to four people could be hanged at once, although that only happened on one occasion, so a triple execution would have been perfectly possible. And "by once", I mean at the same time; the hangman would open the trapdoor so all were dropped into eternity at the same time.

There was a spectator's gallery outside for the press and official witnesses - their view was restricted so all they would see of the actual execution was the condemned drop into the pit below and the rope go taught. The prison was also used to train new executioners.

The 1889 creation of the London County Council moved Wandsworth prison and its gallows into London from Surrey; both sites would be used for hangings.

By 1891, the British government had clamped down on some of the dodgier practices engaged in by hangmen at this point after the Aberdare Committee of 1886. Like going around the local pubs the evening before and showing off the rope to the drinkers. Or selling said rope and the dead person's clothes to souvenir hunters after the fact. Or charging people to act as extra assistants at the execution, including one actual baronet. A standard "table of drops" was also set up, although not always followed initially.

In 1902, the prison was closed down and demolished in 1904. A rebuilt and expanded Central Criminal Court, opened in 1907 covers the old site - some of the old walls form part of it - still being known as the "Old Bailey". Trials are open for the public to attend, subject to a strict security check and an outright ban on taking photos inside.

Some of the remains of the hanged were removed and placed in a plot at the City of London cemetery.

The gallows moved to Pentonville and remained there, with the last execution occurring at that site in 1961, capital punishment ending three years later.

The Magpie & Stump remains to this day, heavily rebuilt. I might go there for lunch at some point.

A door from the prison is in the collection of the Museum of London, but the main site closed in 2022, with the facility moving to a new location in the Smithfield area that is due to open in 2026.

The six weeks reference? That was how quickly you could go from arrested to hanged in England.

#letters from bunny #raffles #history #wilful murder #wilf

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centrally-unplanned · 1 year

Video

(CW: suicide)

The ending of the PS1 Serial Experiments Lain game is something that sat with me for a while in how it relates to the TV show ending. In the game - oh btw Lain got a PS1 alt-history visual novel retelling in 1998, produced coterminously with the anime, you can play it here - Lain commits suicide in order to ‘ascend’ into The Wired, as opposed to kinda-maybe-never really existing to begin with as she does in the anime. The story leading up to this ending is completely different, primarily involving Lain in therapy, but the themes are all there in both at their core, so these endings do speak to the same concepts.

I think I bounced off it a bit at first because it does not stand out in its execution. The PS1 game is not well-made, with a god-awful interface and clunky progression, and a tiny budget that can barely squeak out a few animations to sell its key moments. Some of them work but their quality is a few tiers below anything the anime had. It has its good parts as a game, don’t get me wrong, just that on selling individual ‘moments’ its not gonna shine.

Also Lain kills herself with a gun?

Its...jarring, its not the kind of thing Lain seems like she would do. Its so analog and brute-force, connecting to an entire world of violence and power that Lain never had anything to do with. I can see why its done this way - as I have mentioned before, Lain is ‘secretly’ a member of the horror genre and is pulling from a lot of that genre’s tropes. The visual novel has a lot more elements of gore and body horror, leaning into that identity harder, so its fits better here. Additionally in Japan guns are a lot more rare as a thing a child would have, they are Advanced Technology out of reach, a bit more similar to a computer (in 1998) than in the west. Hell, Lain came out before the Columbine High School Shooting happened (1999!), kids-with-a-gun just had a different meaning *everywhere*. It is still offputting though, a method chosen for omg-shock that drops your jaw when you are 14 but falls flat as an adult.

Once the execution wore off though its implications for the narrative really started to claw at me. The “Lain of the Wired” concept is bound up in the common cybernetic idea of the ‘upload’, porting yourself over to live on the internet. The anime has that in spades of course, Lain eventually lives only as a ghost in the machine; but its in the end a happy ending, one she chooses to protect her friend and where she gets to look out over them as essentially a caring spirit as they live their lives. It buys into, fundamentally, the possibility of the upload to preserve the self.

The PS1 game sets up a similar premise through its buildup - Lain grows digitally powerful but emotionally distant from everyone in her own life, each of her relationships falls apart one by one, her attempts to compensate for that within reality fail, and so she rejects reality. She chooses to ‘upload’, but through doing so she turns away from the idea of preserving the ‘human’ self at all, as becomes apparent as she builds up to her suicide via her conversations with her “Lain of the Wired” alter-ego:

This is a far harsher view on that process - “the rest is just data” hot damn. Throughout the game you see this ‘data’; the game is structured as you, the player, diving into a computer system pulling up archived logs, often out-of-order, to tease out her story.

In between the logs you find these little audio-visual clips of fragmentary & disconnected sentences with no connection to the ‘story’. She likes cake, she is getting bored of her ‘outfit’, she shares philosophical musings on various topics.

And some, particularly the later ones, are stained with a desperation to connect with others. “Do you want to find me?” “Only play with me” “Stay with me”,

But this is *all* Lain is. There is that “Lain UI”, but its mechanical, it never engages or responds, an abandoned prototype. Everything else you read is a log of past Lain, things that happened before, when she was alive. In those logs she even explicitly rejects the idea of making a “backup” of herself, referring to her past life as “useless”. The fragmentary data files you find are what is left. The way they combines facts, trivialities, and desires gives them a semblance of life, but only a semblance, just the embers of a ghost still clinging to the machine. That is what the vaunted “Lain of the Wired” amounted to.

Which is way more accurate to what we are all going to be, on this internet on our earth. “Uploading” isn’t real, concepts like these are used in stories as literary devices to analogize to the audience, and to that audience “living on the internet” looks exactly like the fragments Lain left behind. Its social media posts, art, websites, publications, a web of data. Yet its a web that all ties back to the living person. Of course “your posts don’t have consciousness”, that is trivial to say, but it goes beyond that, to how the things on here lose their relevance so quickly once separated from the ‘consciousness’ that made them and drives them. “Your posts don’t have meaning absent the creator behind them” is perhaps a bit bolder statement, and while not logically true it is emotionally true, true in important ways, for the audience to see in Lain’s ending a version of their own end. That hits.

This ending is I believe a case of medium-is-the-message, anime just aren’t in the business of having finales with that level of bleak nihilism. But an experimental horror game aimed at the niche obsessive fans, the ‘franchise’ isn’t riding on that, it can afford to roll the dice. Which is why, despite all its technical flubs, its the ending I still get sparked into thinking about in odd moments months after playing - like today it seems, if I am writing this.

Throwing a bit more kindling onto the embers I guess.

#serial experiments lain #cw suicide #mini-essay #internet meta

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blogger360ncislarules · 9 months

Text

Nancy Drew left us with one last clue to follow.

The CW drama wrapped its four-season run on Wednesday, pitting the Drew Crew against its greatest supernatural threat yet before revealing what the future holds for everyone in Horseshoe Bay. More importantly, the finale also (potentially) solved the show’s longest-running mystery — Ace’s last name.

One of the episode’s final shots was a carving of the crew’s initials, including “A.H.” First name Ace? Yes, confirmed. But could that “H,” as many fans have speculated over the years, really stand for Hardy? Did the show just confirm that Nancy has had a Hardy Boy by her side this whole time? All signs point to… probably!

Though executive producer (and pilot director) Larry Teng didn’t exactly spell it out for us, he confirmed to TVLine that he’s known about Ace’s last name from “day one, episode one.”

Speaking of Ace, yes, he ended up with Nancy in the end. Here’s a quick summary, if that’s even possible: Saving the town required apparent soulmates Nancy and Tristan to sever their spiritual connection, following the discovery that they’re only linked because she murdered him in a past life. (Oops!) Ace saved Nancy by tethering himself to her, but the process literally cost them their souls, making it impossible for either to be reincarnated. Silver lining? It also destroyed their death curse, allowing them to enjoy the remainder of their last lives together.

“When Ace says to Nancy, ‘Will you solve this last mystery with me?’ in my mind, that was, ‘Will you marry me?'” finale director Amanda Row tells TVLine. “That was both of them acknowledging that there’s nothing they can possibly do to stay apart. They have to be together. And I love that. I love how big Nancy and Ace have become, because it was definitely not planned. It ended up just organically happening, which I think makes it so special.”

Every epic reunion needs an equally epic kiss, and Row definitely felt the pressure to deliver with this one, “especially because there was that gorgeous slow-motion shot wrapping around them when they kissed earlier this season,” she says. “With this one, I wanted to keep it more still. I was echoing the same framing I did in [the Season 4 premiere] when they meet up at at Icarus Hall. I did the exact same conversation, but this time it had a different outcome.”

And then there was Nancy’s farewell to Tristan, whom Rowe describes as “an innocent bystander in a lot of ways.” For that reason, “you can’t help but feel for him,” but at least we can find a “really beautiful resolution” in that he and Nancy were able to overcome the sins of their past lives. As Row says, “it shows that the cycle doesn’t have to keep going. Things can change. His role was really significant in teaching Nancy that.”

As for the rest of the Drew Crew, George got into Northern Seattle Legal College; Nick accepted an engineering position under Tom Swift (R.I.P.!), while Jade also landed a gig in Swift Enterprises’ PR department, courtesy of Zenzi; Bess is embarking on a global expedition to replenish the historical society’s destroyed artifacts, while Addy is running for local office; Carson and Jean are preparing to welcome their new baby girl; and Ryan… well, let’s just say that Red appears to be keeping him on his toes.

#nancy drew

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healingheartdogs · 2 months

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CW for ideation, just ranting a bit about psych stuff

When you tell your psychiatrist that you've never been so depressed in your life and have never struggled with ideation and wanting to self harm so much and you don't know if it's just because of your current life situation (poverty and the looming threat of homelessness is so fun) or if it's because of the meds you're on now (which have a black box warning for increase in suicidal thoughts and suicide risk) and instead of addressing either of those two very realistic possibilities she just asks if I'm expecting my period soon and when my last one was instead. I have PMDD but it's never been suicidal PMDD, and I'm on BC to manage it rn that stops me from having periods so it's not relevant anyway.

When I told her my BC stops my period so I don't have them she asked me if I was still tracking them to make sure it wasn't possibly PMDD... There's nothing to track lady, I DON'T HAVE THEM. And then she moved on to asking me how else the meds were making me feel and told me I should keep trying them for longer to see if they actually work because it can take up to two months to see benefits without ever going back to address the extreme depression and ideation. Like... dude the strattera clearly does not like my brain since it is making me extremely depressed, COULD YOU LISTEN TO ME PLEASE??? It also is not actually helping with any of my ADHD symptoms besides making my head a little bit quieter instead of constant random ping-ponging thoughts.

I told the nurse before my first visit with this psych that I was worried about seeing a new psychiatrist because my last one didn't listen to me and focused on irrelevant things that I would mention in passing a lot instead of what was actually important to me to deal with, and she told me this new psych is SUCH a good listener that she even talks to her about her problems a lot so she hopes I felt the same while seeing her. I can only conclude that this nurse must be mentally healthy because this lady does not listen any better than the last one and does the exact same shit, acting like all my problems are just because I don't sleep "normally" and focusing more on managing my anxiety (which is a symptom not its own problem and is already being managed fairly well by my beta blockers) and low self worth rather than solving the issues causing my anxiety and low self worth like my extreme executive dysfunction that makes me feel like I'm trapped in my unresponsive body and a useless POS all the time.

I s2g I am so over getting lectures on sleep hygiene and needing to "fix" my sleep schedule from doctors when I am not complaining about sleep at all just because they personally don't like my sleep habits. Yes, I have a sleep disorder. Yes, my sleep schedule frequently shifts because I'm not on a 24 hour cycle. NO, I do NOT have a problem with that and I do NOT struggle with getting to sleep, staying asleep, or getting enough sleep!!! STOP FOCUSING ON MY SLEEP!!!! THE UNMANAGED ADHD IS MUCH MORE SERIOUS!!! But my sleep schedule isn't "correct" for capitalism and working normal jobs so they prioritize that "issue" instead, even though I wouldn't be able to work even if it was normal because of my EXTREME ADHD and physical disability.

I hate healthcare in this country.

#tw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation #tw self harm #self harm

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freeshephoun · 6 months

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please please please tell your adrian headcanons im so curious!!!!! and also maybe gordon and barney if you like :]

oh boy this is gonna be a lot. apologies for any misstypes in advance!!

click to read my thoughts on the 3

okay ffirst off shephard! shes tfem which is why i will be using she/her for her. also ahes filipino-american. shephard is autistic and mute and struggles to understand the people around her sometimes. it makes her upset when she doesnt.

its a reason why she is better with aliens. they dont work like humans do and it is easier for her to connect with them even when they dont speak the same language. and the bond she has especially with spore launcher is indescribable.

spore launcher (or spore for short) is a creature she found in the black mesa facility. its an alien that, when you feed it something, it can spit it out and it works basically like a grenade launcher. at first shephard had no idea what to do with that thing. he gave it a little pat on the head and it chirped and since then theyve been best friends. you can not tear them apart.

shephard has a lot of little cat scrstches feom spores spikey exterior aswell as some acid burns here and there. it comes free with having an alien friend/pet.

Shephard also managed to get spore into stasis. everything else was taken but she could keep spore. also coming to stasis ive got some thoughts on it.

while gordon was basically in a coma in stasis, Shephard wasnt. she didnt even have a choice what to do. she was just taken and detained. and since she was detained, gman didnt put her to sleep. shephard has been in that osprey for all this time. awake. if it werent for spore she would've probably gone insane.

being in stasis also fucked up her feeling of like everything. ypu dont get tired, exhausted, hungry or thirsty. you cant even feel pain or die.

(cw sensitive topic, bit similar to sh) in an attempt to feel anything she sometimes did some stupid shit. mostly punching or slamming her body against walls or purposefully touching spores acid. that reeeeally fucked up her perception of pain and her tolerance and it still shows afterwards. (cw end)

outside of stasis she still struggles with the perception of pain. it is pretty dangerous and she basically relies on gordon or barney to tell her hey you got fucked up bad we should get you first aid.

and sometimes when she sees it she spirals down into this specific feeling where everything feels like stasis again. when was the last time she ate? why does it feel so alone again why is it so quiet? why is akl she can hear her own mind?

shes going thru it🔥🔥

jumping a bit shephard doesnt like physical touch. shes very sensitive to it and gets overwhelemed by too much physical touch. her lovd languages are acts of service. she isnt good at comforting someone or showing her care for someone so openly. its more that she guards you when around you. makes sure youre safe. you need a moment of alone time? she will make sure no one bothers you.

my friend wrote a scene that describes it perfectly so ill quote it: "In the distance, the parade could be heard. At the entrance of the alleyway, Shephard seemed to stand guard, occasionally looking back at them as the parade passed by."

for tthe other 2 and their love languages: barney is the physical affection guy. giving and receiving. hes also good at comforting people just by being there. gordon on the other hand is good with giving words of affirmation. its his love language. and on the receiving is quality time (shephard too i forgot to mention)

they are very dear 2 me.

also their fighting styles. ive thought of it before and how it differs. gordon thinks, finds an answer that works and then executes it. shephard thinks a little but she mostly just acts on instinct. and barney? hes jus tlike yeah no thinking is for nerds watch me solo this guy. hes silly like that

my friend (again) made smthg that portrays this very well: "Gordon would calculate the triangulation before he threw a grenade over a wall. Shephard would stand on a box so she could throw it over the wall without hassle. Barney would just lob it and pray"

gordon is a very sarcastic man. barney understands his saecasm oerfectly but shephard struggles to do so which is why gordon avoids sarcasm around her.

shep and barney on occasions have their 5 minutes. kind of like zoomies. it usually ends in chaos because they tried something stupid again. which is why gordon rarely allows them in his lab. actually never. but barney will still come down when it gets late and gordon hasnt even been up to eat something and basically force gordon to stop for the day.

how? he just scoops gordon up and carries him out. batney is a security guard who survived the resonance cascade, the 7 hour war, manages to get through as underciver civil service despite the hard security measures of fhe combine aswell as fighting agains the combine and staying alive for all these years. that man is strong.

he wwouldnt mamage to carry both gordon and shephard though. thats what shep does. she carries them both with one arm.

this also reminds me shephard needs a routine. she can not do without one. you will see her follow the military training camp routine eeveryday. if she doesnt do it it messes up her whole day.

also wwhile i will draw them a lot probably in their hl clothes and not hl2 clothes, if thes would have ever met its definitely in hl2 or after. i jsut dont like drawing barneys combine outfit thats why.

Shephard was thrown into the hl2 universe by gman. maybe ill even incorporate return 2 ravenholm im this if i ever elaborate on that more. she builds up her own wa yof living there. the camera drones dont manage ti actually detect her due to her gas mask. they detect humans by having a face and if they don't? thats not a human then. she doesnt know that though.

she made herself st home in an outpost outside of city 17. it used to belong to the residtance but got raided by thr combine and has since then become abandoned. at ome point shephard manages to boot up the equipment there. she gains access to a lot of old information that was stored in this outpost.

the resistance of cours enotices shit wait an old outpost was activated again whats going on there. they send a group of people to investigate but urrm uh yeah didnt work out. shephard had a little ace up her sleeve (spore and her acid). but eith that they hope to confirm it is at least not the combine because they have never used that alien species as it completely ceased to exist after the black mesa incident.

im not too sure abt thid though the way this goes might change very well depending om what i feel like.

anyway uuh sheohard goes into the city to restock some supplies. she has some good connections at this point and has heard from the resistance. and well when she goes there to restock she meets barney.

this is btw like a place where they help out citizens who are struggling, often wanted by the combine. they live off donations, mostly coming from the resistance themself.

when barney sees shephard, this guy in a fucking military uniform hes just like. boy you coming with me now. and drags her to the resistance thingy there.

or something like that. not too sure about that at all. again might change however i feel like it

also i definetly forgot a ton of things but ive been writing this for 1 1/2 hours now. if you want to know more about specific things feel free 2 aks i LOVE sharing my freeshephoun thoughts with people

also as a treat here i drew them as the power piff girls once

#half life #hl talk #freeshephoun #infodump

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