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deluluass · 2 days ago

Text

Time cast a spell on you

Content warnings: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-harm; implied suicide; name-calling; degradation; misogyny Other tags: heavy angst; yakuza AU; multiverse; reincarnation; actually just an old lady's excuse to finally write a silver springs angstfic

*SUMMARY*

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

It's like picking a flower when he takes you on his lap. "Wanna hear about the little shit from earlier?" he groans into your ear, squeezing your ass.

"Sir, the blade."

You're keeping yourself from landing where he's got his thighs spread apart— prude bitch, but he is who he is. And you're just not strong enough.

"All good, doll," Sukuna reassures you.

The straight razor in your hand could cut his throat. You're not being stupid for keeping it at arm's length. It's old— the kind of thing brown-nosers would call vintage, collected and well-cared for with a gold handle— but it sure as hell can nick and make a caught fish out of a grown man. He knows because he’s since developed an eye for these things. That’s why when it was gifted to him a few years back, he had done nothing more but make the guy lick the toe of his shoe for being so thoughtful towards poor, fatherless Sukuna.

He offers his throat to you and juts out his chin, stubble lathered with cream.

“Just be careful,” he teases.

You go to work without a word. The blade is a kiss against the barely-there hair. You glide your hand sure as can be, fingers resting over the shank, until half of his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum. Water drips from the faucet and clinks into the wide porcelain tub behind him.

The silence could tick off even a monk.

“Anyway, this man, right?” Sukuna begins to mutter, curling his lips in once you shave over his mouth. “Drove me up the wall today, kitten, you wouldn’t even believe it. Water boarded, tased, had his balls cut off, still, not talking. But just as I thought he would— ‘Don’t fuck with people who got nothin’ left to lose,’ he tells me.”

You are soft under his palm. “So, I’m like, fuck does that even mean?” Sukuna continues, bending his neck to the side to give you more room to work with. “And that’s when I just about lost it. I was hungry. It was hot and I was getting tired. We’ve been at it for five fucking hours and I had to end it somehow. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

You don’t answer, but he keeps going. “I had his bitch taken out of the car.”

The blade over his jaw halts. Sukuna grins. Open his mouth some more and that thing could kill him right now. But would it? Would you? He feels his cock, stiff as a motherfucker and balls heavy in his boxers.

“Pretty, young thing. My boys said she was tight too.” The bit of skin where his lips meet stings when you stroke over there. “And that’s when he started singing.”

His laugh rumbles off his chest, before pulling you closer. “Like a bird,” he sighs to your ear.

Don’t fuck with people who got nothing left to lose, my ass.

Your heart is a battering ram, and he feels every weak, desperate blow. There’s no longer a trace of cream to be found on his face.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Sukuna coos as he tips your chin up. “Something I said?”

As always, you do not speak, that gaze of yours gone off to someplace else. He clings his tongue. The blade sinks down, down, down over his throat. Your hands tremble as tears come rushing down your face.

There she is, he thinks with a satisfied groan.

“Go,” he commands. “Kill me.”

He waits, watching you as his thumbs caress the swell of your tits, then mouthing your nipples over the loose cotton of your top. Your nipples harden over his sweeping tongue. He bites and takes the fabric between his teeth.

The blade nips in time, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Blood trickles to his bare chest. It blends seamlessly with the cherry blossoms and dragons tattooed on the pectorals, although old Emma-ō on his stomach looks like he gashed his eye out.

This is his favorite part. And it never gets old no matter how many times he sees it: your face falling apart, searching for a way out only to come to terms with the fact that this is it.

There’s nowhere to go. You’ve reached a dead end.

It was raining that day he first caught sight of this. On your knees before him, a blade hung over your neck— a simple, crude, mundane blade—held by a lowly servant. That was all that you amounted to. You didn’t even deserve a death dealt by any of his four arms.

And that’s all that you amount to now. You take the razor off his neck and bring it to yours.

“You’re gonna kill yourself? Some big plan you have there.” He scoffs, pushing your ass down to grind into you. “Do it, little girl.”

Your panties are pushed to the side, but nothing comes out of you. Not a single gasp or moan. Just those tears and that never ending vacuousness before you. His fingers twitch. He should just kill you right now. Get this all over with.

“Worthless cunt,” Sukuna growls, before grabbing your neck. The razor clatters off your grip. And soon enough you’re on the floor beneath him, throwing scratches and kicks that almost hit him. So, so close.

The blotched scar on your left palm peeks through his clutch.

“That’s more like it,” he barks out, laughing as he pins your wrists to the pearl tiles. Your thighs are forced apart, hanging limply over his. “Now, say it.”

“You’re a monster!”

His laughter rings sharply in his ears. “How nostalgic.”

He takes his cock out of his boxers, heavy in his hand and already leaking, before smacking the tip over your clit.

“What’re you hoping to achieve this time, hm?” It doesn’t take long before he’s aching to have your cunt gripping around him. His cock is slick enough for the both of you anyway. “Take it, you’re a good girl, you can take it, good girl, just like that, yeah.”

You whimper breathlessly, releasing that cute little whistle of a cry every time his thrusts brush the cushy, spongy lump way, way deep inside you. Sukuna feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he just can’t help it.

“You look so pathetic,” he jeers. Pathetic and even prettier when he gives your face a slap or two. “Were you hoping I’d take pity on you? Show remorse, that it? And what d’you think’s gonna happen after you bleed to death? I’ll tell you, it’s okay, I’ll tell you—”

He leans down, your lips almost touching, as he tells you, gently, “I’ll call for room service, have your body in a bag, give the cleaning guy a tip for his time, and then— then that would be it. That is it. You have nothing. No one would say anything, no one would cry, no one would go searching. Your story ends at a dump. Just some pussy to sell.”

Tears wet his cheeks, tracking like a stream, and his cock throbs inside you. If heaven were real, it exists right here. “Then, once that’s over, I’d get another piece of ass that won’t fuck me over the way you did.”

You’re a hyperventilating, hiccupping mess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls out, then drags you down by the leg so that your face is at the receiving end of his cock.

All it takes are some nice, firm tugs at his shaft and he’s shooting his load all over that pathetic, pretty little face. A creamy splatter over the bridge of your nose, dripping down your cheek and mingling with drying tears. Sukuna doesn’t bother wiping when he’s got you for it.

“Clean it up, baby,” he whispers.

And you do.

You suck at the tip where he’s still leaking, tongue lapping up what’s left of cum.

He then gets up to pat his face with a towel and a shaving lotion, gelling his hair back afterwards. You hobble towards the other side of the bathroom. Your lone figure, sitting naked inside the tub, is reflected and scattered into a hundred different you’s by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors caging you on all sides.

The hot water spills over the wide tub and into the floor. Sukuna sighs, before approaching you to grip the back of your head, leaving a loud kiss on your lips. You bite back, and his cock twitches again.

He forces his tongue in, keeping his eyes open. So do you.

You part with both of your spit tied loosely together, until it melts and disappears into the water.

“Please lock the door on your way out,” you croak.

After all that, any man would feel compelled enough to move mountains, so he indulges you.

The lights in the walk-in closet are bright when he dons his button-up and slacks. He sits on the chair that faces the skyline. Under his feet, the city waits, half-asleep. A whiskey later, and he still hears water rushing.

And rushing.

Sukuna throws the decanter into the carpet, then strides to the bathroom. But he finds, with a sneer, that he cannot get in.

“Open,” he growls as he twists the handle and bangs the door. “Don’t fuck with me, open the door.”

Like most things, it eventually breaks under his hands, and once it does, the door crashes with a thunderous clap, alerting the men posted outside.

They wait behind him, no one dares to move until he does.

It takes Sukuna a second before he’s stepping inside the bathroom. The water on the floor is bright red, spreading like ink, and the closer he gets, the darker it becomes. You are lying in the tub, hand splayed over the rim. Your fingers are slack around the straight razor. You are a cold, plucked flower in his arms.

And the water does not stop rushing.

“FOR COLLUDING WITH THE SORCERERS OF THE NORTH, FOR THIS TERRIBLE ACT OF TREACHERY AGAINST LORD SUKUNA, AND FOR UPSETTING THE GODS WHO WE BESEECH TO GRANT US MERCY IN THE COMING HARVEST—”

They are no better than ants as they bustle towards the courtyard. Commoners and nobility alike jab their way to get the best view even when there are dark clouds overhead, while handmaids trail behind the highborn ladies with bright silk robes, parasols popping open one after the other. Ants and dogs, the lot of them.

The air is humid, and it brings with it a stench of iron that makes Sukuna’s mouth water. The spectacle of bloodshed has not been done in a long, long time, and anyone with a pulse clamor for it, regardless of where they stand in this insignificant, unimpressive kingdom.

Seated on the dais, he yawns and thinks, in hindsight, that he could just end this all himself. But he does not. By his side, Sukuna can feel Uraume’s shame like hail against the earth.

It was him, after all, that brought you to Sukuna as a gift.

To while away the quiet hours, he said.

A poor villager whose meagre value lies in what’s trapped inside her skull. Washed up ashore. No family. Not even a single thing to call her own.

“— IS HEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH!”

The priest pauses. The audience catches its breath.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?”

You make no sound, head down and on your knees: the center of the attention of a hundred gluttonous eyes.

To everyone’s delight, it is Sukuna that breaks the silence.

“I want to see her,” he orders. They make you turn away from the people.

And you do not disappoint Sukuna. You never have.

The emotions of the lowest animal flutter across your face— a predictable end to be sure, but even then, your gaze does not falter.

You look at him as the priests chant a prayer. You look at him as the executioner lifts the sword. You look at him and, in that heartbeat where the blade just about grazes your nape, it seems to Sukuna like you’re witnessing this entire execution from high up above.

All twenty of his fingers itch. “Arrogant wench,” he mutters.

The sword sings at the taste of your blood as your head tumbles off into the mud.

Rain, soon enough, begins to fall like arrows on the capital.

After the crowd has dispersed, sated, Sukuna dismisses Uraume. And then he is left alone.

He steps out into the rain, stopping only to where they held you down. The rain has already washed out the blood, but right where he’s standing there are two dents on the ground the size of pebbles.

That must’ve been where you’d dug your knees.

He crouches down. The tips of his fingers sink into the hollow soil.

He feels rain drops break on his skin, tungsten and diamond, and the fire that has forged him grows bigger, deeper inside him. It feels like it’ll lay waste to his own body, but it doesn’t. Instead, it eats the whole world. The fire chews through wood, metal, and mineral, until screams and cries create a symphony just for his ears.

Yet, it only feels colder, somewhat— and the only warmth comes from where he’s got his fingers buried.

The rain does not stop. Fire reduces to ash. Water reduces to smoke.

And in his mouth, there is a child’s curse, tumbling off his lips.

How does it go again?

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

“Whish, whoosh,” Sukuna drones. “Whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

He understands the factual nature of these two things because he recalls, in vivid detail, two of the times that he’s been alive. He had four arms that he still misses to this day like phantom limbs. This is what he knows the moment he gets old enough to pick pockets.

In each one of them, Sukuna remembers the sensation of power.

Raw, soaring power unlike anything that has ever existed before. In the first life, Sukuna was a sorcerer, a demon, and— more accurately, he was a god.

The second one is a bit different. Stranger, too, funny enough, than the first. He was not any of those things, but close to it, in a way. The memories come to him inside a cell after a fight. In that life, Sukuna conquered galaxies, and the stars and the suns and the moons yielded to him. Planets gave under his feet. That ancient future called him emperor, and there was not a corner of that vast universe that did not tremble at his name.

The first one has got to be his favorite, while this one… took some getting used to.

Sukuna only has two arms to begin with. The standard affair. He doesn’t have a curse to wield or a galactic army to lead. Nevertheless, it starts where it always does: at the bottom of the fucking barrel.

Little Ryomen Sukuna grew up in the dingiest alley of Kabuki-cho and had a crack whore for a mother. Power was something that he had to grab by the throat with nothing but his own two, regular hands, but— power was power.

And no matter where he was, in what lifetime, in what form, power was something that would eventually come to him.

It couldn’t be more evident tonight.

A year in the game and Sukuna’s already made a hostess out of Kamo’s first lieutenant— an ugly, garlic-breathed hostess pouring him a drink.

The old man pushes more women to his lap, to which they titter and giggle in response. Sukuna lets them hang onto him, fat cigar in his mouth, while the old man makes a jester of himself trying to get on his good side. To his credit, he does everything that might put a smile on Sukuna’s face, even going as far as to make a scene with another waitress.

Drinks shatter and the women surrounding them yelp out of the couch. Even the ashtray has turned to shards. Another gimmick and this old man’s done. Sukuna wouldn’t even mind if a war comes out of it. Maybe it’s just what he needs.

“Do you know who you’re serving, you dumb slut?” He’s slurring his words as he jabs his thumb in Sukuna’s direction. “You can’t even give us some quality fish?! What kinda dump are you runnin’, huh?! This tastes like soap!”

As the woman bows in apology, he grabs his glass to splash its contents at her— maybe he thought this would amuse Sukuna.

“We’re sorry for the food, sir,” she announces in a clipped tone, head still down and her uniform damp with sake. Sukuna couldn’t see the entirety of her face, but it’s visible enough for him to know that she’s just a waitress, if the shapeless pants and long sleeves didn’t already make it obvious. There to put food down as silently as possible, not pretty enough to be taken out. “I’ll inform our manager about this situation right now.”

“No, no, no, missy, y’cmere, look— y’don’t gotta call anyone— could get you into trouble! I’m forgiving enough, hm! We can jus settle this ourselves, w’dyou say?”

The old man grabs her by the shoulder, pushes her down to her knees, and turns her towards Sukuna. Her eyes are still trained to the floor.

“This fine, young man over here, well, you just broke his ashtray, and now his cigar’s makin’ a mess— see that? Ash every fuckin’ where! Now—”

He snatches her left wrist as if she’s some marionette and extends it, palm open all beggar-like, to where ash falls. “—All you gotta do’s improvise! Ladies! The night’s still young! Let’s all have fun!”

The party returns, business as usual. Sukuna only watches.

He watches the women and men— each and every one a whore, drink and sing and dance until the whole room looks like it’s about to throw up.

He watches the old man bend over backwards and just about present his asshole for fucking.

And he watches her as he flicks his cigar clean.

The ashes on her palm have accumulated into a hill. She doesn’t make a noise, wouldn’t be heard in the cacophony anyway, but Sukuna sees her flinch when ember hits her skin. The women beside him aren’t subtle. They peck and lick his neck and fondle his cock to keep his cigar away from her palm, but—

He wonders, keeping his eyes on her, what would happen if—

Sukuna flicks the cigar onto her palm, then pulls it away as he peels a manicured hand off his crotch, and even with her head down she must have already guessed because before he could even stick the glowing stub to the bit of flesh he’d intended—

She catches it.

The waitress, still on her knees, rises to seize the cigar in her palm. It burns through her skin and the sizzling invades his nostrils like grease. The women beside him cry out with the waitress, but nobody stops him as he presses it down to her palm.

“S-stop- stop it…!” Sukuna hears.

She remains on her knees, a guttural scream clamped between her teeth. Her palm does not budge, and when she finally raises that stubborn head to look at him, what he sees in there is louder than what any scream, any curse could ever be.

In her eyes are the thousand different ways that she wants him dead, along with a million other lives, and a million more universes, imploding together like a great storm.

Sukuna laughs— a sharp, incredulous thing that was stolen from right under his nose.

“It’s you,” he gasps lowly. “It is you.”

---

“—I, OF THE FEW AND HUMBLE BA-A-AYLAN, CONDEMN THIS DOMITOR’S CLAWS OVER OUR MAM-A-NA GALAXIAS…!”

The assembly is in an uproar. Guards from hovering balconies land on the steps below him. Their rifles, however, remain suspended as soon as he lifts a finger, his chin resting on the opposite hand. Remnants of the fiery rocks that used to decorate the aisle are now scattered across the polished, onyx floor, crimson pocks among the swirling cosmos around your feet.

“Y-YOU WOUND OUR LANDS- RAPE...! AND PILLAGE...!”

The beaded halo perched on your head is askew— like a gale had gone through a garden. Gold and silver coins hang from your two earlobes and on the frayed ends of your vestment. They clink together like rain as you collapse on your knees. Sweat tarnishes some of the coloring painted on your face, revealing streaks of tender, quivering skin. Although the red dot on the right side is intact, the other one is being nursed behind a bleeding hand— scorched, like the rest of your face.

A courtier points at the slaver groveling on all fours a few paces behind you. “Death to the human pirate! You dare bring this- this impertinent witch before the Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil! Death!”

“P-please, my lords…! Sp-spare me…! She speaks in tongues— e-exactly what one would expect from an exotic creature—”

“Silence!”

“She is a virgin, my lords! Untouched!”

“The witch has burned half its face! It is now sullied and no longer fit for He Who Brings to Heel!”

A single glance from him is all it takes to silence the rabble.

Sukuna descends the steps.

He wraps one hand around your waist and picks you up with it. Your toes dangle over the strewn rocks. A talon lifts your chin to meet his eyes.

The unburnt side of your face winces in pain, feeble arms grappling out of his hold.

Millennia have passed since he has laid eyes upon your kind. After complete subjugation, there has been nothing much more for this lot other than labor— creatures to trade with and make trade of. There may be squabbles on that side of the universe that would-be lords and conquerors can make a feast of, but it no longer interests him.

Extinction dawns with a dimmer star besides.

Very few things can occupy his mind and even stay there. Sukuna has forgotten what the last human being he’s encountered looked like. Even the pirate, with its familiar weaponry and slaver’s garments are alien to him now, but— curious, isn’t it?

It is as if he has seen you before.

Just you.

Somewhere, in one of the corners of this endless universe.

He could’ve done this quicker, without all the melodrama, but the people at the bar called themselves your family. Sukuna heard it with his own ears when he followed you back to the kitchen after that night.

“We know you’re on your own,” they told you as they dabbed medicine on your palm. “But you’ve got a family here.”

And so, Sukuna watches your face as these same people that had called you their little sister take the case from his accountant.

You refuse to sit on his lap, something that he’ll allow for now. On the opposite side of the car, you can clearly see the woman who runs the establishment count the bills, each piece of paper thwip-thwipping in her hands, then stacking them together into thick towers.

One million yen.

Two.

Three.

Relentlessly, you slam your injured hand against the window.

Four.

“Mama-san!”

Five.

Six.

That is all you are worth.

“Mama-san..!” you screech, jamming the door handle that does not budge. “I’m here, mama-san! I’m right here! Please- help me! I’m right here please don’t leave me! Mama!”

It’s not until when the woman leaves with the case that you break into sobs, your head in your hands. He’s leaning against the window on his side, arm over the headrest, as he counts down, mentally, towards the inevitable.

You lunge at him.

“What do you want from me?!” you cry, face wet with tears and snot. “What the fuck do you want from me?! Who do you think you are?!”

His driver says nothing, and Sukuna only tilts his head when you grip his collar.

He wipes your cheek as he says, more to him than you, “You really don’t remember.”

You have resigned yourself to death. That much Sukuna knows.

You are a pet. Nothing more. That is the way of nature: you cannot even hope to outlive him, even if he willed it so. Weak, negligible little creature.

The reptile that's got a dagger to your throat is under the misconception that you are more than that. Your palanquin and guards lie on the ground. Its mask does not conceal the fact that it’s about to piss itself, its green scales distorting into a sallow shell as he approaches the wreck.

Sukuna’s army watches. The war ministers and envoys in the ships flying above him are waiting for his next move. He’s heard the whispers.

Domitor Ryomen Sukuna, He Who Brings to Heel, Noro-I no Oh, Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil— has been conquered by a human slave.

How charming, he thinks with a smile.

He does not bother to address you. He knows how you look at him.

In the same breath as a white dwarf hurtles through the sky, Sukuna has ripped the hearts of both slave and assassin in his hands.

His army ululates.

“EH-NI AH DAH-YUS!” they roar.

The ships blare their horns, groaning like a deep-sea behemoth.

Sukuna decimates the Holy Seat of Desh-Ih in a matter of two rotations. It is a battle-hardened planet, and he loses a quarter of his soldiers by the end of the last siege. There is a sensation in his chest that makes him halt as he slices their general in half.

They had put up a good fight. For that, Sukuna would remember them. And— something else.

Something he cannot put a name to. It would be irritating if it were not so…peculiar.

It rains on his way back to his ship. The planet’s neighboring galaxy, Setus, is visible despite, bloodied vessels that set flames over the graveyard of severed and incinerated Desh-Ih warriors.

And in his lips is an old song— rushing like children playing tag near a stream.

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

Where did he hear this? Sukuna does not remember. Perhaps from a dead, primordial planet.

Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams…

“Pitter, patter,” he drones. “Pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

Your fingers are wilted stems in his grasp, and your pulse is sluggish, off-beat.

He brings them to his lips, keeping them there, pinky brushing his chin. The metal armrests are cold against his elbows and the room smells like mint. There’s a knock that takes his focus away from you. He’ll shoot the next person that tells him he needs to rest, he decides.

But it is only the rain, hitting the window pane one at a time, then coming to a downpour. Sukuna blows air out through his nose, shutting his eyes as he takes your hand with both hands and props his forehead against them. He brushes the singed mark of your left palm.

“Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam,” he hums, not bothering with the words, the sound a low thunder from him. “Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

The rain does not stop. “Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

He repeats the tune, whistling this time. It echoes through the hallway.

Sukuna lifts his head, the song refusing to die in his lips, and when he does, he finds you staring right back at him. The tune crashes like a ship.

Your eyes are open, and he does not recall them being this bright, like you’d just woken up from a long and hazy dream.

“Can you speak?” he drawls.

You can. He knows you can.

But you do not.

“Speak,” he repeats.

You take your fingers from his hand and brings them to his cheek, wiping it. He doesn’t let go— refuses to let go, feeling your pulse.

It peters out, slowly.

Acid perforates his muscles, spreading from the tips of his fingers to his chest, climbing up the veins and filling them with magma, burning him from the inside, until he's all spittle and heat—

“Speak—" His voices shakes the walls. "Speak, damn you!”

You keep your eyes open, as impenetrable as they’ve always been, and for a moment there, right before they close again, the corner of your mouth lifts— a smirk— like it’s you who’s sitting on this chair, and it is him that lies there on the bed, breathing his last.

Your laureled horse jumps atop his incense chariot. It is promptly removed from his side and kept in yours. Sukuna tempers the urge to fling the board across the mat. Uraume sits outside, waiting.

“I’m going to die soon,” he says unprovoked, legs crossed, before moving his gold general away.

You freeze, then you slide your silver general beside your foot soldier. “I see.”

“Not gonna cry?” he simpers.

“Not in front of you, my lord.”

His incense chariot lances for your silver general. Your gold general captures it.

Cherry blossoms peer through the shoji. It was you that had drawn them open earlier, as was your habit before setting the board. ‘Flushed and efflorescent,’ you’d whispered as their petals landed softly on the grass.

He raises all of his fingers. “Keep my soul here, die for a while, then—” He grins, “live forever.”

You do not move, legs folded primly beneath you, staring at Sukuna.

“You’re a monster,” you utter.

That makes him laugh. He grabs your neck. A foot soldier stumbles off your fingers, and you swiftly place it back on the board. With it, you’ve captured his gold general.

Sukuna drags the blunt end of his nail over your throat, but stops when he remembers that the game isn’t over yet. He can do that after he’s finally won over you. He lets you go wheezing lightly.

“And yet you love me.” He pounces your foot soldier with his.

Your silver general infiltrates his territory, turning it to gold. “I do.”

“You’re a fool,” he scoffs.

“I know, my lord.”

Your tears fall on the board. Sukuna looks up, but you wipe them before he could see them on your face.

A fool. A weak, powerless, dispensable fool.

Like picking at a scab, “Why?” he asks.

“I hardly know, my lord.”

“You can be my mistress,” he says noncommittally. “I could use one more to warm my bed.”

He picks at the silver general in his midst, taking another foot soldier with him. He could force you down now. Sukuna had even thought about it in passing before. Although, with Sukuna having yet to win a single board against you, he had not seen the pleasure in it.

This is the only battle he has yet to win.

And the one that only you can.

“Then, if I do, would you cry for me, my lord? Afterwards, would you stay by my bed when I am weak?”

“You must have taken a blow to the head, fool,” he chuckles. “Proclaim me dead and lost if I’ve come to that disgrace.”

With your western region barren, he easily devours through generals, incense chariots, and a laureled horse. You meet him piece by piece, but he has, at last, cornered you at your most vulnerable. His jade general conquers your invading gold generals.

Victory is close and you say nothing more, apart from a song.

“Rush, rush, rivers oceans,” you hum like a wind chime, putting a foot soldier forward in your eastern region that he is now making a wasteland of. “Rush into a steam.”

He smirks. “A child’s curse.”

“Whish, whoosh,” you continue, nodding with a timid smile as you discard his laureled horse. “Whish, woosh, go and form daydreams.”

It is hardly a revelation to Sukuna that you hold these infantile beliefs. Brats— bunch of human waste, are wont to sing this tune, convinced that if they do, then time, like water, would return anew— different and yet the same, so that they can keep playing without having to hear their mothers’ reprimands.

Water to steam to clouds to rain. Then back again. Over and over, making a game of time.

“Pitter, patter, pitter, patter—” That foot soldier crosses the border. You turn it over and it transforms into a gold general. No matter. One more loss and it would be your only piece. “Please fall back to me.”

He makes quick work of the last laureled horse on your side. Your jade general sits, untouched, farther behind it.

“What’s this?” Sukuna holds out a hand to brush your cheek. “Are you cursing me so that we can keep playing?”

The suggestion cannot be lost on you. Sukuna makes sure of that. He drops his fingers to the bare skin above where your robe meets together.

You nod, humming again. “Yes, my lord.”

Your gold general moves forward to his eastern region.

“But, my lord, my curse is much simpler.”

Sukuna glances back to the board.

And there it is— that gold general, once a foot soldier, with a wordless sort of aplomb, capturing his jade general—

His king.

"I only wish to see you lose," you tell him, levelling at Sukuna with your gaze. "Even for one last time.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #yandere ryomen sukuna #yandere sukuna #yandere jjk #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw noncon #yandere

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apomaro-mellow · 3 days ago

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The Road to You 1/? Read on AO3

Another one from the steddie fic adoption community!

A lot of things happen after beating the Upside Down for good. Somehow the most surprising part of it all for Steve is becoming Eddie's roadie.

“They’re singing about infidelity, Stevennnn.”

“Play the tape again and actually listen to it. They’re singing about how they’re not gonna cheat.”

Eddie was laid up in a hospital bed. The stereo was seated on the table next him and Steve in the chair next to the bed. Robin was in a chair at the far end, her feet propped up onto the edge of the bed. All three of them were eating jello.

“They said they’d marry this chick if they were free. What d’you make of that?”

“IF they were free. IF”, Steve said, finger wagging to make his point. “They wanna marry Girl #1 but they’re gonna stay loyal to Girl #2, their wife.”

“See, it’s the fact you think this hussy they’re singing to is Girl #1. Why isn’t Girl #1 the wife? Pretty reductive if you ask me, wouldn’t you agree, Bucks?”

Robin snorted. “You just called one of them a hussy, so I’d find that pretty reductive. If we really wanna get into it, let’s talk about the women in this song. One’s living in a loveless marriage and the other’s got this guy pining after her, basically telling her, he’d leave his wife for her.”

“It’s Bay City Rollers, you guys. It’s not supposed to be a sad song”, Steve said.

“Copacabana is an upbeat song and it’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard”, Robin said while Eddie nodded in agreement.

Steve threw his hands up and his eyes went to the sky. “What’s sad about Copacabana? You literally can’t sing it without dancing.”

“Steeeve Harrington dancing to Barry Manilow? This I gotta see”, Eddie said, searching through the tapes that were sitting by his legs.

“Don’t have the tape, but apparently Steve knows all the words”, Robin grinned.

“Don’t challenge me with a good time Robin”, Steve said. “It’s about a club in Havana.”

“It’s about what happens IN that club. Go ahead”, Robin urged. “Start from the part about Rico.”

Steve hummed the tune, starting from the first chorus. “~His name was Rico~He wore a diamond~” He mumbled through more of it, shimmying a little in his chair as he went through the song. “Hm~hm~called her over~But Rico went a bit to far~Tony sailed across the bar…holy shit.”

“You get it yet?”, Eddie grinned.

“Tony got shot!”

“That’s not something you’d like to hear in a hospital”, Dr. Hudson said. She came to the empty side of Eddie’s bed.

Eddie might’ve thought twice about letting himself be bat bait if he knew how much recovery he’d need. He’d still do it, but he’d at least give it a second thought. Doing so meant two weeks in a coma, extensive surgery and another two weeks basically strapped to a bed after that. And of course, in all that time, he was banned from eating all the things that made him happy. All his nutrients were from a tube. Today was the first time they let him eat anything solid in a whole month.

Steve and Robin got out of the way for his check up. They weren’t expecting much of a change. Eddie was healing, but it would be slow. Steve still had to change his bandages. He could go longer without a change than he needed weeks ago, but still, his sides were fragile. Every time he visited Eddie, he was shown how much worse it could have been had he and the others not arrived in time to save him.

Life had gone back to a weird sort of normal for Hawkins after beating Vecna. An earthquake explained away everything but people still left and there were plenty who still stayed in shelters, having been displaced from their homes. School held out for the rest of April, but it was decided that since the senior graduation was set for May, they may as well let out the schools then, just to have more space for the people living in the gym of Hawkins High. Doing this would also open up the middle school for shelter space too.

No one had brought up graduation around Eddie. Steve and Robin talked about it a lot, mostly to help her work through what she was going to do after. She’d been accepted to three colleges. But fall seemed so far away and she couldn’t imagine leaving Hawkins right now. Especially when Steve himself didn’t seem to have any plans.

Family Video had been miraculously spared from the damage. They’d quit in unison anyway. It all just seemed so trivial in the aftermath. Robin had asked what Steve was going to do once she went off to college. He’d given her a joke of an answer but she knew how to read between the lines. She knew he had no plans beyond what he did each day. And that worried her. Made her feel like if she left, he’d fall apart.

Sometimes it felt like the two of them against the world. If that was true, maybe he wouldn’t be opposed to following her to college? The idea seemed novel, almost romantic, and it would definitely give people the wrong idea but she didn’t care.

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

After dropping Robin off, Steve got to his house. He could hear his mother’s heels clicking on the wooden floors and her berating someone before he even opened the door. He sighed before opening it just in time to see her slam the phone back onto the hook.

“Unbelievable!”, she said to herself, hands on her hips before she realized Steve was home. Then she turned the conversation towards him. “Well we can’t sell the house. The market is in shambles.”

“The inspector said our house is fine though, right?”, Steve asked.

“No one will buy a house in a town of murders! That Munson boy has ruined what little dignity Hawkins had.” She shook her head. “We’ve always been too good for this town and now we can’t leave.”

��What about the cabin?”

“Steven, that’s a vacation home. It’s not meant to be a permanent residence.” She sighed just as Steve’s father came downstairs, loosening his tie.

“Sounds like bad news from the realtor.”

“I’m not taking that price. I’ll burn this house down with all of us in it before I take that insult!”, his mother shouted, walking off and into the living room. His dad followed, already starting to soothe her.

Steve headed straight to the kitchen. Jello could only satisfy one so much. He could hear his parents talking, but not make out the words. He stopped mentioning how lucky they were to still have their house, to be alive, and that Eddie wasn’t responsible for any of this. His parents didn’t care about any of that. He made two quick sandwiches, grabbed a bag of chips and a soda and disappeared into his room, lest his father ask about his job prospects again.

Standing behind a counter again didn’t sound appealing. And he knew his dad was getting to the point where he might just give him a job, but standing behind a desk wasn’t what he wanted either. Steve didn’t know what he wanted. He knew what he liked. He knew what made him happy. Somehow, talking to Eddie almost everyday became one of those things. But no one was paying him to talk to his friends.

But for now, spring would be turning into summer soon. Steve could focus on that, Eddie’s recovery, Robin’s college prep, and helping turn the freshies into sophomores. The Upside Down was gone, all the monsters were dead and all his friends were alive. Life couldn’t throw anymore curveballs his way. Right?

Part 2 coming soon

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie

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egoistrin · 1 day ago

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rewind !!

Notes: 662 words. Just Sae experiencing love at first sight LMFAO! idk what this is...... i js wanna post something abt Sae..... i luv him (sorry rin)

Thinking about professional soccer player Sae attending an awards show in South Korea to receive an award. Him sitting in the corner together with all of the other idols performing for the award show. He can be seen sitting alone, legs crossed together with his hands laid on top of his thighs. As usual, his nonchalant facial expression can be seen and it's obvious enough that his patience is slowly running out.

Sae doesn’t know how these lukewarm idols can manage to sit here for hours, just watching other people perform and hearing the crowd's screams. It doesn’t really differ from his point of view while playing soccer—well, at least he is the one playing and not just a standby who’s watching from the side. He thinks of standing up under the pretense of going to the bathroom but he actually wants to sneak out and just call his manager that he went home because he’s feeling sick, but luck doesn’t seem to be on his side tonight as his manager went towards him and whispered that he should stay as the awarding should start any moment now.

Well, fuck. Now his plan is trashed and he’s still stuck at this stupid awarding show. Why can’t they just send me the award instead of attending this event? Sae thought. Scrolling through his phone wouldn’t even be a viable action as he’s sure that it will just get him multiple headlines on how he was rude and disrespectful during an award show and towards the people around him. He doesn’t care though…. he’s had multiple headlines about him being rude, he’s sure that another one to the collection won’t hurt.

Just as he had given up on the possible options he could do to entertain himself, a bright and cheery voice moved his boredom. He has heard some of these K-pop idols around him, of course, Shidou, Sendou, and Oliver won’t shut up about their bias and pull off the photocards they have received on the albums that they have bought during their vacation. He wasn’t that aware that they were all so pretty though. Now, he’s not one to fall in love at first sight but he swore that he felt his chest tighten when he saw your face on the big screen and heard your voice the first time. Your aura was just too much from him that he felt like he should look away or else he’d get caught up under your spell. Were you even casting a spell in the first place or is it just fanservice? Well, consider Itoshi Sae as a fan who is being serviced.

Fuck this. He feels like a loser. He even fixed his slouched posture to focus perfectly on your group’s performance—to focus on you. He looks like those cameras that are focused on one member—a human fancam or whatever you call it. He feels like one of those teenage boys whose first time having a crush. He can’t help but look at your figure while performing your group’s song. He can’t take his eyes off you as you continue to dance along while singing as he’s completely enamored by your presence. He definitely gotta have your autograph after this award show to get to know you and brag to those guys that he managed to get your autograph and if he’s lucky enough, a selfie with you.

Sae was so caught up with you that he didn’t even realize that your performances were about to end. He felt himself holding his breath as he witnessed you doing your ending fairy pose. He’s not really familiar with those words until a week later, courtesy of those three idiots. Sae thinks that you look like a goddess with the way your outfit looks and how your makeup is done. You look angelic even, words cannot fully describe how beautiful you look in Sae’s eyes. Oh, he’s definitely going to ask for your number afterward.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader fluff #bllk drabble #blue lock drabble #blue lock x you #blue lock #blue lock itoshi sae #itoshi sae #blue lock fluff #sae x reader #sae x reader fluff #itoshi sae x you #sae x you

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suncraftedsoul · 2 days ago

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Not shifting doesn't exist.

I was writing on how self speak is so insanley important. (lmk if u wanna read it)

im a HUGE semantics bitch

& i took a minute 2 jot down this thought abt shifting.

Oftentimes, when we hear terms like this, people think of the miniscule "every choice has an alternate path" parallel universe way.

Which.

Yeah, it's 100% valid, but it's not that limited ??

You are shifting to another one of your realities right now.

Not an "alternate" (NEVER THINK THIS WAY) version of you. YOU.

There is no such thing as

an alternate version of you

It's just u. It's always u.

Time DOESNT exist.

The "barriers" between realities DONT exist.

"I haven't shifted to [x] reality yet"

NO NO NO NO. SHUT THE FUCK UP. YES U HAVE YES U HAVE YES U HAVE YES U HAVE !

The only reason ur not shifting or ur manifestations aren't working is because YOU choose not to be aware of it.

Why ? Or what makes u not? Idk. Im not u.

U likely have put limiters on urself, even w/o realizing it.

Think about ur routines. What are the beliefs ur holding on to ? What are the thoughts going on in ur head while trying to shift? Methods U use ? Etc.

Ur never not in ur other reality

Its not always subconscious, either

I saw a post on here by @littlemissshifter abt how ur subconscious alr knows what it wants.

Its why reprogramming ur subconscious doesn't work for some people.

That's because your problem isn't from ur subconscious but from more frontal versions of ur consciousness.

figure it ur blockage & shift.

Literally, the moment u figure out what is preventing u from shifting or manifesting, it no longer has power over u.

There is a reason we get memories or glimpses of our other realities.

That missing feeling each day that you "don't shift". Like you're supposed to be somewhere or doing something thats not happening rn.

Its because you've shifted &

yet, a part of you is refusing to look at it.

Be aware of it. You're there right now.

Same with ur manifestations. You are genuinely in a different place & ur feeling it for a reason.

[Side note: manifesting is literally the same as scripting.

To manifest u shift urself in alignment]

Seeing that my main hurdle with shifting has been a frontal consciousness problem & not a subconscious one,,,

I hope some of my notes can help

u others out !

Im gonna end this thought here.

Im gonna take some time 2 really refine & better articulate what's going on in my mind 4 u guys.

This is likely common knowledge BUT IM NEW AND THROWING SHIT @ THE WALL #T.T#

Yap, session 3 completed

Thank u 4 reading (*^3(*^o^*)

(Me) (you)

Sunny out 🔆

#shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting diary #shifting consciousness #shifting antis dni #shifting community #4d reality #shifting advice #shifting motivation #shifting mindset #reality shift #shifters #reality shifter #Spotify

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fisytheshark · 2 days ago

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bad guys concept

Betty Noir as part of the team

(Idk why but I was sincerely sured that her last name is "Noir" and not "Noire".... Feel only more ashamed of it bc I'm learning french like wtf--

Transcript:

Nightmare: Beware of my new employee

Ink: Betty NoirE from Glitchtale ??

Dream:.. A little girl. Seriously ?

Ink: pffffftttt

/Ink's laughing/

Ink: haha... Friend, we're SO doomed it's a Mary Sue

Dream: I thought her name was Betty-

AND NOW PLS HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE

Today at some moment I thought

"hmmm Betty's skills are pretty similar to Nightmare's....Like, fear based hallucinations and in geberal they're being something that's not human nor monster...And their goals also easily comparable. "

"yeah they're definitely should work together"

So I drew this comic !

I love when people include chars notsanses in mv things and I wanna be that kind of person myself

For me "bad guys" is a trio

Nightmare, Killer, Betty

(sometimes with some additions for example Killer's alternatives or Cross)

and they're all wearing dark sweaters

Honestly I have more thoughts but it's already really late for me and I'm sleepy and my brain is stop braining and I'm almost zzzzzzzzzz ......

But !! As always !!

I can answer the asks :] about Betty and others

and even if you don't send me any... I'll draw more of them anyways !! cuz I have something to expand there

Ty for reading good night day or morning

#utmv #fisy is drawing #Fisy is thinking #utau #undertale alternate universe #utmv fanart #Comic #Doodles #Ink Sans #Dream Sans #Utmv ink #Utmv dream #Killer sans #Utmv killer #betty noire #Utmv betty #Glitchtale #bad sanses

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hanuelkim · 1 day ago

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One bed Hyunjin (pt. 2- finally am I right)

You feel a little dazed by last nights events. Nothing much. You made out till you couldn’t breathe. It felt amazing, a guy that you’d liked previously was making out with *you*! Hyunjin stroked up and down your sides, drawing circles as he moaned into your mouth. But now he was spooning you, arms so tight you couldn’t escape. His chin on your head and a soft breath. He’s still asleep.

The thoughts of what could have happened last night linger in your brain.

“Morning, darling~” his voice was deep and dragged it out to empathise how much he was enjoying this. It just shows how hot and sexy he really is. Slowly he buried his head in your neck placing slow, passionate kisses. Voices linger outside of the others, they must be awake. But Hyunjin was too occupied with kissing you.

“How did my baby sleep?” My? You question, is he claiming you? And baby? You were definitely small enough in his arms. He was a giant compared to you. One hand slowly slid down your stomach. “Here’s a good idea, but you need to stay quiet, baby” A blush creeps up your cheeks, he noticed.

“Better get up or the others will wonder what we were doing” you frowned a little but knew he was right. You both got up.

“Look away I don’t you to see” you push him away.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Fine” he covered his eyes as you got dressed and left the tent.

Breakfast was being made. Luana was already awake. Hyunjin soon came out in a baggy shirt and grey sweat pants. He started to help cook.

As soon as he made something he handed it to you. A bacon sandwich.

“Wanna know what happened last night~” Luana suggests.

“Eww no” you chuckle, keeping your eyes on Hyunjin.

“Anything happen to you?”

“No” you reply softly scared that you’d be exposed.

Later that day you were all on the way back to your own places. Hyunjin was driving. One by one people got off till it was only you and Hyunjin left. The drive was a little longer than expected and Hyunjin stopped outside of…not your place.

“Wher-“

He cut you off. “It’s my place, you coming?” He opened the door for you. As you stepped out Hyunjin grabbed your hand. “It’s gonna be just us” he smirked. As soon as you stepped in Hyunjin arms were wrapped around your waist.

His deep voice still very prominent. “You know, love, I would have went further last night” he was teasing you, “Just look at your curves, and how turned on you were getting. I bet you wanted me too” it was working. “Tell me, how badly do you want me right now?”

“Kinda” you whisper from embarrassment.

“Wanna go to my room?” He asked. You nodded. Suddenly you were lifted in his arms bridal style and carried to his room. He carefully placed you on the bed. He sat behind you so you could lean your back on him. “Are you gonna be a good girl?~” he wrapped his arms around you. You could feel his bulge against you. “You’re blushing again. Such a cute baby”

“I’m not a baby”

“You’re my baby” he smirked. “But right now I want you more than for you to act childish. You’re mine, got it?” his hands slid down your stomach and down your pants. Caressing your thighs. “Got it?”

“Mhm” you nod quickly.

“Now let me hear some cute noises”. Hyunjin slowly begins to move his fingers over your panties. You’re already wet and this just made it worse. His fingers moved under your panties. “You really like this”. Slowly he begins to stroke your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips. Hyunjin moves between your legs. Slowly pulling down your pants. “I wonder how you taste darling?”

#stray kids #kpop #headcanon #kpop bg #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #sleep #smut

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jjaehyunnxie · 2 days ago

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hide and seek

reader x perv!jisung

! MDNI, jisung is a slight pervert, voyeurism, haechan catches them

"Alright, everybody! Cheers!!" Haechan's loud voice fills the room as the clinking of the glasses ring, before everybody takes a big gulp out of their drinks.

A random act of kindness sparked Chenle when he offered to throw a party at his house. Everybody could swear there was something wrong with him but he insisted on it. And now here you all were. 8 people, all gathered up at one long table covered in food prepared diligently by Chenle and Jaemin (although, everybody offered to help them out). It was a rather wholesome scene. Something about everyone being gathered in one place, sharing conversations and enjoying the same food was so heart warming.

Looking at it carefully, Chenle's house really was huge. Marble flooring, tall pillars with neat designs on them, a ceiling that seemed to go way too high and large windows with a stunning view. Everything was big and expensive-looking. Weirdly enough, it fit Chenle's vibe perfectly.

You sat beside Jisung who was extra talkative today. He kept showing you things he's been into lately, ranting passionately to him. Jisung always mentioned that talking to you about these things made him happy and you knew there was probably no one else willing to listen to his rants so you gave in and offered him your full attention for most of the night, up until food was served and he got silent.

"Attention!" Haechan's voice makes everyone turn their head towards him, clinking his teaspoon on his almost empty glass of beer. "I say...how about, we play a game? A game that can only be played in such a large and beautiful house."

"What are you hinting at? Do you wanna burn my house down or something?" Chenle asks with a slight chuckle, expecting Haechan's response to be entertaining as always.

"Hide and Seek", Haechan says with a smile.

Everyone turns to eachother in confusion. Why such a childish game? You were all full grown adults so why bother with these things?

Donghyuck could feel the frustration growing from the members so he chooses to add something else. "Guys, come on! What's wrong with playing a fun children's game once in a while? Plus, it's not everyday you get to be in a mansion like this! We gotta use it to our heart's content!!"

"I'm in." Chenle says, his smile intrigued. So, once the host agreed to it, obviously everybody else agreed to it as well.

Spinning his empty soju bottle, the cap landed on Haechan. He tried to hide his excitement but it was too obvious he was enjoying this.

Thus, he ends up covering his eyes and counting 'till 20, while everyone else rushed to find a spot to hide. Secretly, everybody tried to make it so that Haechan doesn't succeed in finding anyone, just to see his pout as he swears for the nth time that he'll never play games with "you traitors". But to everybody's surprise, finding a spot to hide was harder than imagined.

At this point, everyone had already hidden. All the good areas you thought of were occupied and Haechan was already reaching the last 10 numbers. Suddenly, as if sent by the heavens, you see a closet in what seemed to be Chenle's room. You dash to it, opening it slowly while you take a second to pray that nobody was inside already. Your prayers were left to scatter as you see Jisung, standing cramped and uncomfortable.

There was just no way you could be this unlucky. Just as you were about to close the door to the closet, thinking about just giving up and turning yourself in - maybe help haechan find everyone else - Jisung grabs your wrist.

"Come in, there's still some space left." he whispers.

This sounded like a bad idea. I mean, you? Cramped up in a tight closet with Jisung? The guy that seemed to always stick to you like glue and that always stares at you with an oddly loving look from afar? Still, as you hear Haechan say "19...18...20!" you give in, quickly entering the closet, trying to take up as little space as the door closes, cutting off any source of light that was there.

Chenle's clothes were stacked on the right side of the closet, while the other side was left empty for any jackets to hang. Despite there being no coats hanging, your back was still pressed against Jisung's chest, cramped up in the tiny space that somehow seemed to be much larger.

For a long while you just hear Haechan's frustrated groans and complaints, "Just where did you guys hide!! Come on!!!" mixed with his confident cheers "Found you! See? I told you I'm good at this! Now help me find the rest...". Of course, all of this on top of Jisung's breathing that kept getting heavier and more uneven. His hands were ghosting over your figure, as if he was trying to shut up every voice in his head that told him to grab your waist or hips - just to touch you.

The limited space for movement was making your body numb. As you try to stretch your limbs, you suddenly feel something hard poke your ass. Jisung is quick to apologise, saying he didn't mean it, that it's just the situation - all the while, his hands were found secured on your hips, gripping them with little shame.

"Jie, what are you-?"

"Shhh...please. I'm sorry, okay? I can't help it..." he whines in a whisper. His apologises are a terrible contrast from his actions which slowly rub your hips on his bulge.

This was so wrong. Yet, why was he so cute? His soft pleads, his painfully desperate voice brushing over your ears as he tries his hardest to beg for you while also staying quiet. His crush on you being so obvious was already adorable in the first place, just how much cuter can this guy even get?

"Please, y/n. Just the tip...I'll be quick-fuck, I'll cum right away, I promise."

You just had to give in.

"Okay, okay. Be quiet, though. Hyuck shouldn't catch us..."

He nods rapidly. "I'll do anything. He won't catch us. I promise you." Jisung rambles empty promises as you can hear the soft clinking of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper quickly pulled down in a swift motion. His hand slides under your skirt, fingers tugging at your panties before pushing them aside. He groans at how wet you already are. You're just as perfect as he always imagined. Plush pussy, glossed and ready for his dick.

He wastes no time, slipping his tip in with ease, earning a shaky exhale from him. He pushes in and out of you, slipping his tip in and out. But with every slide, it feels as if he tries to go deeper.

"Shit, baby. I'm sooo sorry, I need your pussy so bad." he whines as he shoves his whole length in you, finding a steady pace as he thrusts deep. His left hand slithers to your chest, squeezing your breast tightly, while his right hand goes under your skirt, rubbing your clit.

"Y-You said only the-fuck" your moans became more and more difficult to keep quiet, desperate whines that were impossible to not hear from outside.

His hand rushes to your mouth, muffling your moans as his thrusting picks up speed. "It's okay, I'm almost done. Just a little more, okay?" he pleads with a shaky voice, large hands wrapped around your body as the wet sounds of skin slapping filled the small, cramped up area.

"Oh, shiiit, y/n. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum in this tight pussy...'s all yours..."

Unable to warn him about your orgasm approaching as well, it takes you over, cunt clamping down hard on his length as he lets out desperate cries and pleads, continuing to fuck into you silly.

He doesn't last long before his cock shoots its ropes of hot cum in you with stuttering hips, his body left trembling and struggling to keep you up on your feet.

He rushes to stuff his softened dick back in his pants, trying as hard as he can to hide any evidence of his doings but is only startled when Haechan opens the door to Jisung zipping his pants up and you, struggling to stand up and a fucked out expression on your face.

"You guys are seriously unbelievable. If you hadn't finished then, I would've come in myself to finish it off." He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Searched the whole villa for you two, only to find you having your own 7 minutes in heaven."

#nct hard thoughts #nct jisung #jisung hard hours #jisung x reader #nct #fanfic #nct u #nct dream

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megatruxfr · 3 days ago

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Bam and Prank go on a night run (Batwheels fanfic)

GUYS its almost midnight over here in Holland and i said im hoing to bed early tonight cuz i have a test for German tomorrow but i really wanna write fanfictions about Batwheels, like my urge to do it has taken over so here i am, but its late and i need to sleep but i dont want to sleep but its late and i need to sleep-

Anyway, this is just a bored fanfic, it doesnt contain any smut or explicit content, because these are cars AND underage, its just "i promise we are friends" stuff. So here ya go :)

Fanfic: Bam and Prank go on a night race (DONT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY PLEASE)

Bam felt shivers running trough his body hearing Prank laugh in the distance. It was late at night and he had sneaked out of the batcave to meet up with Prank at the Gotham Pier, like they promised. It was weird, because Bam had noticed Prank was becoming nicer to him, it seemed. The more missions went by, the more the fighting between him and Prank became a rivalry. At least, thats what he thought, maybe Prank insisted on this whole thing because he wanted to mock Bam for being a "scaredy bat" or something else silly. Or maybe he was just being nice. You never really knew for sure with Prank.

"HEY THERE BAT BRO!!" a loud, hyper voice knocked Bam out of his thoughts, startling him. "There you are! I knew you would come!" The Joker Van shot out of his hiding spot, laughing like a maniac, driving a circle around Bam and braking right in front of him. "Sorry, did i scare you? Still a scaredy bat?" He grinned.

Bam sighed. "Prank, why did you bring me here?"

"I wanna race you!" Prank giggled. He then reared and closed in on Bam.

"Its almost midnight!" Bam said, driving backwards. "People are sleeping! We can't just drive around in the city like idiots, we are way too loud, we'll wake everybody up!"

"Pff, youre no fun, bat boy," Prank said while rolling his eyes. "Stop being goody two tires for once, Bam. Its Saturday, tomorrow you can sleep all you want."

"How do i know that?" Bam asked.

"Because every dumbo knows what a weekend is," Prank replied.

"No, i mean, how do i know you and the rest of the zoomers won't be causing some kind of mayhem tomorrow, like you always do?" Bam said, closing in on Prank.

Prank wasnt intimidated. Instead he just grinned. "Because tomorrow, i will be sleeping like a bear, because i will stay up all night!" He then took a sharp turn and drove around while laughing.

"You know how bad that is for you, right?" Bam tried, realizing how "goody two tires" he was sounding. It embarrased him. "Oh, what am i saying..?"

Prank broke and gave Bam an unimpressed look. "Stop saying stuff like that, your killing my vibe, bro."

Bam swallowed.

"You know what you need?" Prank drove up to Bam. "A weekend race."

"Trough the city?"

"No, on Saturn," Prank said sarcastically. "Of course trough the city. More ground, more fun!" Prank took some distance, giving Bam more space. "So, you down?"

Bam thought for a minute. He knew the others weren't gonna be happy. MOE would ask him why he wasnt fully charged, before he knew Batman might need him... Bam shook his head. He just had to get home on time. "Yeah. Yes, i'm doing it!"

A smile appeared on Pranks face. "Yes! Finally! Lets go, Bamster!" He suddenly went full gas and drove into the city. Bam followed him.

"WEEEEEEEEE!!!" Prank cheered, knocking over a traffic cone. "HAHAHAHAHA!!"

"Youre having the time of your life, arent you?" Bam said while trying his best to keep up with Prank.

"I love night drives!" Prank yelled enthousiastically. "I can knock over every traffic cone and roadway sign, throw bricks at traffic lights, jump into fountains and start the junk fights i never have in the Scrap Yard!"

"Whats a junk fight?" Bam asked.

"Basically you play in a place with like containers and those little buildings with signs that always tell you you will die if you touch it, and you throw junk at each other," Prank explained while they took a turn. "Everyone wears a red little lamp, and when that lamp gets knocked off of you by a peace of junk, youre out. The last one driving wins." Prank giggled. "Its really fun, Bam! Especially when you play it without lamps and its just slap happy madness until everyone is tired and covered in junk."

"Does it have rules?" Bam asked, expecting a hyper "NOPE, HAHAHA!" But Prank answered:

"Only one. You can't physically touch eath other. If you lose a light when someone like knocks you over or something, it doesnt count. Oh yeah and the peeps that can fly either drive or can't fly above the rest. That rule we made for Quizz, because he kept taking massive amounts of junk and then throwing it at us from above. Wasnt fair."

"So thats why you made that rule?" Bam said.

"No, first we built a catapult and shot a junk ball at him, but it knocked him out of the sky and he couldnt fly for 2 days. Nice karma, but he wasnt happy. Then we made the rule." Prank laughed hysterically. "That was really fun! Well, maybe not for Quizz, but i have never laughed that hard in my life!"

Bam laughed at the thought of Prank and his friends shooting Quizz out of the sky with a ball of junk. As dumb as it sounded, Prank seemed to have much fun in his life despite committing so much crimes.

Prank jumped on a pair of dumpsters to climb up on a brick wall, on his way too the roof of the building they were at while giggling mischieviously.

"What are you doing? Bam said.

"I'm going up to the roof," Prank giggled as he used his grappling hook to go up. "I do this a lot."

Bam followed him again. He had never stayed out this late. It was silent in Gotham and normally he would be sleeping while charging in his garage, but now he was climbing to a rooftop of some building with Prank.

When they reached the top after a while, Bam saw it was lower then he thought. They could jump off of this.

"Whats the most fun thing you have ever done, Bam?" Prank asked while shaking off dirt from his tires.

"Well, our missions are always fun!" Bam said. "But i remember, last halloween we.. drove around town, chasing each other with lanterns and bringing candy around. Batman was driving with me, Batgirl was standing on Bibi throwing around candies and it was Robins first time driving Buff. We all had so much fun!" After that we kept laughing and talking about it when batman, batgirl and Robin went to sleep. Buff was super proud of Robin even though he had to assist a few times, he said, and Bibi wouldnt stop about Batgirl standing on her seating!" Bam smiled. "I wish we could do that next halloween."

"Wow," Prank said, surprising Bam, because Prank had actually listened to his story.

"Its cool, right?" Bam said.

"Yes," Prank said. "But honestly, youre always so disciplined, so sharp and super mature. I didnt really think you had that much fun in your life."

"I do wish i had a little more freedom like you sometimes. I always have to be near the batcave in case batman needs me, i have to drop everything i'm doing when theres an alert, i sometimes feel like i don't get much time to be a kid." Bam said. "From the moment i got my motherboard i had to take everything seriously. From that moment on already i had to be grown up. But i'm a kid." Bam stared at the street below him."

Again, Prank had listened. "Wow, Bam, i didnt know that." He stared too. "Sorry."

"No, its just, i love my work, but just a day or two in the garage, without training, alerts or someone behind my wheel, would just be really nice." Bam sighed. "Do you ever think that?"

"I always do what i want." Prank replied. "I never really have restrictions. Sure i was brought to life just so i could commit crimes, but last time Joker drove me, it was trough the McDonald's drive thru. And i live at a junkyard. I'm basically free to do whatever i want."

Bam sighed. "Can we continue driving?"

"What? Wanna go home?"

"No." Bam sighed again. "I want to drive as fast as i can. I realized how much i want that i cant do now, and i want to have fun and drive it off." He started his engine.

"Ooooh, there we go!" Prank revved his engine. "I'm following you!"

Bam jumped of the roof and zoomed through the street, not thinking of everything he was gonna knock over, not thinking of his route. For one minute, he just didnt care. After turning, he heard Prank whooping behind him and shouting encouragements.

"Fas - ter! Fas - ter!" Prank did a wheelie and catched up to Bam, driving beside him. "Youre fast, batbro!"

"I can go even faster!" Bam laughed while zooming off. "WOOOOHOOOOO!!"

"Go Bam!" Prank shouted. "Drive it out, bro!"

Bam found himself laughing. He was really enjoying this. He never thought he would drive late at night at full speed, especially not with Prank. But this was fun.

Prank was driving beside him again. They were both yelling and laughing as they zoomed down the dark streets of Gotham. This was definitley one of the best nights of Bams life. It didnt top the Halloween drive, but its was very fun and resfreshing. This was definitley happening again.

- Next day -

Bams eyes stung as he opened them. He yawned and stretched his wheels. They felt quite sore from all the driving last night.

Bam drove out of the garage where he found Bibi, Buff and Redbird playing a game. "Hey, Bam!" Buff drove up to him. "Slept well?"

"Yes, slept great," Bam nodded sleepily. "N you?"

"I stayed up reading comics with Bibi. Don't tell BC, please." Buff whispered.

"Bam?"

Bam turned around to see MOE beside him. "Oh, hey MOE!"

"Bam, you gotta charge up, you only have only 8% on your meter!" MOE gasped.

"Oh. Yeah. I - i'll do it." Bam drove into his garage while MOE attached him to the charger. "Totally worth it," he thought with a smile.

Luckily, neither MOE, BC or the other Batwheels questioned him. Bam rested a bit more, read some comics with Bibi and stood charging for a few hours, but not even halfway through he had already fallen asleep to his friends singing a song with BC.

"You gotta ro -o - o - oll with the changes..."

"Ro - o - o - oll with the changes!

You gotta ro - o - o - oll with the changes.."

"And it'll be alright!"

🖤

Wrote this in an hour!! Hope you like it! Now i really gotta go eep xd <3

#batwheels #batwheels stuff #fanfic #fanfiction #batwheels fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfic writer #first batwheels fic HELPPP #i think its okay #hope you enjoy #hope you like <3 #fanfics #yayyy #tv shows #prank #bam

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rip-headphones-users · 5 months ago

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My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate

Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)

(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)

Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite

He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.

The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.

Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time

It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.

Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat

Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.

Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.

Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)

His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time

Infected is only transferrable via chainmail

Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.

Infected doesnt feel pain either

Kasper feels it though. A lot.

In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.

Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.

They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.

It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)

Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.

Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)

UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”

Bro is, in fact, infected.

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reel-fear · 8 months ago

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Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

#batim #batdr #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #ramblez #bendy and the silent city #bendy the cage #for the record another reason Im making this post is bc some of the only good resources to learn abt why the bendy devs suck are some old #very longer videos and this is a very long post but I thought it was important to document the recent shit theyve been doing alongside some #of the worst past things theyve done bc Mike has been trying to misinform people on what happened but those videos are still great resource #if you want more info n such #long post #mike D #for anyone who doesnt wanna hear abt him since he doesnt go by mood anymore #sorry if this is rambley or emotional Im just so sick of these guys fr dskjhgskdfjghskdjhgkjhsd #I miss when I didnt spend my days stressed about the awful shit mike is gonna say next and how I would have to disprove it in a post later #or explain why its bad to have a cast of nothing but cishet white guys n constantly fight back against any push for diversity in said cast #genuinely its just tiring esp when u see other bendy fans give ignorant or very silly defenses/takes on those things #n then u lose a lot of respect for them bc they are speaking on stuff they dont know much abt so confidently and therefore misinforming #people or even encouraging very bad views on stuff like diversity n its importance #Im not saying people like that are bad people but it is stressful n upsetting when u see someone u thought knew better do that sort of thin #it makes it hard to trust them again on other issues bc u now dont trust they know what they r talking abt!!#like please think twice before telling young artists making norman white was a tough and complicated decision it was fucking not the bendy #devs just think all their humans are white by default and dont wanna change that its been proven time n time again thats all it is #and defending them just bc u like a franchise they made is very very bad!! They are not ur friends!! they suck and we seriously need to #stop pretending they dont!! toxic positivity is only gonna make the fandom an absolute nightmare its not gonna make ANYTHING better #it just means people will be forced to PRETEND they never have negative thoughts abt the franchise n therefore make them burned out #just look at other similar fandoms please lets not make those same mistakes!!#sorry can u tell Ive been having just. A time recently #anyways back to making my queer ass bendy fan game full of so much diversity mike will prolly shit when he sees it DKFJGHKSDJHGKJHSD

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