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jenchan-writingmultis · 3 months

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For the TWST Fairytale AU could you do one for Rook? I am hopelessly enamored with him

Your radiance or His satisfaction?

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A/n: This was requested last June 6, and I just got to it right now, I'm really sorry that it took so long (╥﹏╥), and wow, I actually half liked this, but the ending was a bit rushed, but here you go! I really hope you liked this one, it was stressful to write but also fulfilling! I wanted to create some kind of trope but at the same time being far away from the fairytale itself. Thank you so much for requesting this!

Pairing: Rook Hunt x Snow White GN Reader, Vil x Snow White GN Reader (One-sided)

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards Warning: A bit of Angst, and creepy behavior a bit from Rook, but he means well! Ooc(?) I hope not. Obsessive Vil (vague, since it’s one sided) Bad French

Ma chère/ Mon cher: My dear (both feminine and masculine) Masterlist ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ Synopsis: Rook Hunt was assigned a straightforward mission:, one simple mission to take the life of a beauty who was claimed by the mirror as the "Fairest of them all"However, he never anticipated becoming captivated not only by your appearance but you as a person as well. Now, he finds himself tangled in quite a predicament. ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Rook Hunt:

When he first saw you, he thought that an angel fell down heaven and he was happy to help! You had a bit of a scrapped knee, most likely from stumbling down the steep stairways earlier. How did he know that?... Intuition of course! And how the scrape looked.

"Ma chère/ Mon cher!" walking to you, he'd kneel, immediately placing a sterilized handkerchief on your wound. "Are you alright?" You were gorgeous, wearing a yellow and blue outfit, and a red bow, how adorable you are, it makes him want to kiss you!

"Yeah, I think so…" You winced as he began cleaning your injury, though you noticed he was extra careful. He was an odd stranger who had appeared just in time—or perhaps not, since you still fell and hurt your leg. Rook on the other hand was wearing a simple outfit, something you'd notice huntsmen wear.

"Do be careful" he uses a medical kit he kept in his bag for emergencies. He gently lifted your leg, supporting your knee to wrap the gauze more easily. "Vicious boars are around the forest, who knows what could happen to a lovely person like you" Rook knew that blood is what attracts animals around, an exposed wound like this needed to be treated as soon as possible and he was happy he got to you first before any animal.

You trusted him so readily, allowing his gentle hands to wrap the gauze securely around your injury. "What's your name?" you couldn't help but be curious, you were quite attentive to your surroundings so the fact that someone managed to see you fall, it surprised you.

"Rook Hunt at your expense Ma chère/Mon cher" he offers his gloved hand to you, urging you to take it so that he can easily lift you up for you to stand. You accepted it, feeling his firm grip as he effortlessly lifted you to your feet. The way he handled you made you feel almost like a princess; his hand on your waist, fingers intertwined as if you were dancing in a grand ballroom.

That might have caused you to instinctively step back, as Rook seemed reluctant to release you. If you hadn't pulled away first, the two of you would have found yourselves in quite a compromising position.

"Right" you muttered awkwardly you didn't really know where to go from this, but Rook seemed to have other plans. "By chance Ma chère/Mon cher, will you be willing to help me with my project?"

That piqued your curiosity. "What project exactly?" Rook placed his hand on his chest, his gaze narrowing on you with a predatory intensity. "Nothing much," he replied smoothly. "I simply wish to have the opportunity to observe you."

Usually, he doesn't ask his targets if they're willing to be observed, but your case was interesting, the queen having his focus locked on you, he wanted to know, aside from your beauté, what else do you have?

Well, color him surprised, you agreed, he could see confusion in your eyes, but you didn't even question it, and that's where your weird but pleasant relationship started, he would often come to the cabin where you live with your friends, by friends, the animals you keep around, he even hunts for you! However, you eventually persuaded him to switch to a more vegetarian diet. After all, most of the animals in the forest were your friends, and you couldn't bear to see them harmed.

Rook on the other hand, doesn't even show up normally, he doesn't knock at your door, he sneaks in, seeing you already in bed and he'd grab a seat before placing himself on your side just to watch you sleep, kind of creepy, but he couldn't resist observing the way your expression softened when he traced his fingers along your cheek, as if he were gently petting a small bunny.

You wouldn't wake up catching him in the act though but do expect to see him drifting to sleep while sitting down.

Why was Rook doing this? Well, because he was weighing whether he preferred you in his arms or his hands drenched with your blood; and so far, your beauty and interesting personality got him wanting to witness more of your unpredictability.

After a few months of being around you, helping you with chores, feeding the animals, and learning more about you as a person, he decided to mention to you about the queen wanting your head on a silver platter, the reason? He doesn't know yet, but instead of fearing for your life, you just laughed. "Why would he need my head just because I'm 'prettier' than him?" You playfully hit Rook's arm as if he'd told the funniest joke ever, which made Rook chuckle. He took hold of your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm not joking; unfortunately," he saw you freeze up due to his blatant affection and the obvious gravity of the situation. "he really does want your head," he states. But no matter how serious he sounds; you still find it amusing. How strange of you.

"I still don't see how I'm the fairest of them all; that mirror must be lying," you added, pulling your hand away and rubbing the spot where he had kissed it, even after all these times you've known him, you still can't get used to his sudden touches.

"You don't?" he looked genuinely surprised as he placed his hand on your cheek, gently tracing it to your chin as he lifted it up to make you see him eye to eye. "Why that is hard to believe Ma chère/Mon cher?" he watches your expression turn from surprise into a deep shade of red, you knew what he was implying however that doesn't stop him from continuing, if you really can't see the beauty that you blessed his sight for, at least his words would explain what he sees.

"Whenever I observe you, I notice that the stars in the sky seem to have found a new home in your eyes, Ma chère/Mon cher," he wonders how such a common eye color would look so alluring to him, he guesses everything a person possess becomes vibrant the more they show it or at least the more you show it.

"You are the embodiment of grace under pressure, handling life's storms with an elegance that is both humbling and inspiring."

"Okay stop!" you pushed him away, feeling like you're being suffocated under the pressure of his love, "That's too much Rook," although you did like the effort and love that he was giving to you for the past months, you can't help but feel off about it, there's more to what this little "project" of his that meets the eye.

Ah, did you notice? The way he observed you; had a different reason than merely knowing you as a friend. "I apologize Ma chère/Mon cher" Seeing that saddened look in your eyes, you didn't believe him despite knowing that he never lied to you right?

He stumbles from your push, but he doesn't mind. "I hope my words find their way to your heart beauty from afar." He's running out of time with this, his queen was getting frustrated because every week, the mirror only talked about you, the fairest of them all, it was obvious that he wasn't doing his job very well.

"What? Rook what are you talking about" you asked, becoming increasingly confused by his perplexing way of speaking.

"It'll make my heart happy if you thought of what I said thoroughly during my absence" he repeats once more, grabbing his bag from the tree trunk. 'I must leave for now, Ma Cherie/Mon Cher," he says, giving your head a gentle ruffle. "I'll be back in a few days."

And just like that, without acknowledging your protest, he departed, just like how he had arrived.

On the other hand, you attempted to decipher what he said. Was it a confession, perhaps? Or a code of some sort? What was it? it really does direct you more that he loved you.

Rook knew what he had felt when he first saw you; he believed it had been obvious from the start. His intuition had strongly leaned towards the idea of keeping you close, of protecting you from harm, especially from the wrath of the queen. He loves you, yet he also cannot fathom the idea of betraying his queen, what a predicament he got himself into.

That was all he could think about while he made his way back to the castle, the doors opening automatically for him, magic so dense that it made his breathing feel ragged. The moment he reached the throne, the smell of poison was evident in the air, "Roi du Poison" he called out to him, not completely devoid of affection but it was lessened, and Vil noticed that.

"How long will you continue sparing this person's life, Rook?" The mention of his name caused a shiver down his spine, yet he maintained his smile. "In due time beautiful Vil, I'm merely having fun with our prey" he states as he bows down to Vil the moment he sees the Queen stand up.

"This is unlike you" Vil sighed, his robe fluttering as he walks down, holding an apple as it glistens like temptation, even Rook wanted to take a bite of it. "If you continue this seamless cat and mouse chase, I will do your work myself"

"Trust me Roi du Poison," he says as Rook notices Vil offering his gloved hand. Chuckling, he takes the other's hand and plants a kiss on the gloved fingers. "I will do whatever the queen demands, you will not see their faces on the mirror, and you will only see yours"

Rook had observed if his beautiful words pleased Vil, which it did as he pulled his hand off, walking back to his throne. "Tomorrow night, I shall be awaiting good news from you."

"Certainly, Roi du Poison."

What should he do? The moment he went out of the castle, his heart wouldn't stop thumping so fast. He didn't even notice you trying to snap him out of his thoughts when you held his hand actually, he didn't even notice that he had mindlessly traveled to the cabin where you lived, the only time you got him to snap out was when you cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look into you, to see you instead of drowning in his worries.

"Rook Hunt!" you called out to him causing him to snap out of his thoughts, what a sight, you, touching his cheeks while squishing it, glaring at him all huffy. "Can't you explain to me the real reason why you decided to observe me?" you asked as his mouth turned into a thin line.

He nuzzled your hand as much as he would love to keep your touches on him forever, he should clear things up before it causes a misunderstanding, he didn't know what he talked about while being in a trance, but it might be connected to what he told you before.

"I was stating the truth when I told you that I wanted to observe you" he pulls your hands off his cheeks, a faint smile etched on his face. "I genuinely wanted to understand why the queen herself wanted you dead. Besides the mirror declaring you the fairest, I see no reason to end your life simply to claim your throne of beauty."

"Wait… so you're?" you couldn't believe it, were you so oblivious to the fact that he has been nothing but nice to you that you didn't realize that he was sent there to kill you.

"I was sent to take your life" Rook looked unfazed, but you on the other hand, had the look of betrayal, your eyes tearing up while looking at him, catching him surprised.

"What's wrong my dear?"

"You were planning to kill me?" you asked, looking down, seemingly defeatedly, but Rook grabbed your hands pulling it to his lips as his eyes narrowed. "Never Ma chère/ Mon cher!" he protests.

"I could never take the life of the fairest of them all- "

"Is that all I am to you?" your question silenced him as his grip loosens.

"Of course, not"

Rook, while he cherishes different kinds of beauty, whether it was negative or not, he realizes that seeing your distraught was not something he liked. He didn’t know how to explain to you that you were so much more than your outward appearance, he fell for you not only because of that.

"Let's run away" he states, letting your hands go as he had a determined expression on his face. "I do not want him to kill you either, so please"

He would have used his nicknames on you, but this was a dire situation, finally realizing his love for you too. Right, did you manage to understand what he said before? That he loves you?

"But- "before you even got anything out, he gave you a look that shut any protest of yours up. "I assure you, your friends will find their way back to you, no matter what."

"Why are you helping me? Was what you said before true?" Doubt clouded your thoughts. You loved him, cared for him—yes. He was an enigma in your normally mundane life. But he was also the one sent by the queen himself to kill you. Should you trust him again? "Do you have feelings for me, Rook Hunt?"

"I don't just like you, Ma chère/Mon cher," he admitted, his gaze dropping momentarily. It was amusing to see that a man like him would be speechless during the time he was supposed to profess his love for you.

"I love you" like a breath of fresh air, those three words came out of his mouth so casually, it just felt right.

Just like that, he captured your heart, managing to destroy any type of doubt that your brain was manifesting, it felt real, and for a moment you felt like some kind of princess eloping with their prince, which is almost the case with you, except this man was trying to save you from a grueling death.

"What do you say?" Once more, he extended his hand to you, reminiscent of the time he first helped you up. Now, he was guiding you towards a path you never imagined you'd tread.

Without hesitation, you grasped his hand, the horse Rook had used to reach you standing nearby. Both of you were prepared, of course, you said your goodbyes to your animal friends, promising to come back for them once the queen has calmed down. You can't leave them alone.

And during the high time of the night, Rook snuck you out, knowing that Vil's eyes would be everywhere, he also made sure that you were out of sight of any type of magic you were magicless yourself, so it was pretty easy to bypass magic induced barriers without alarming them.

"That lying piece of…" Vil's hand smashed a glass against the floor, as lightning seemed to strike the ground in perfect synchronization with his glare at the mirror, Rook lied, deceived him when he was one of his trusted sidekicks. How could he?

Do you think you can just stroll away effortlessly, avoiding any consequences? How laughable. He'll track you down somehow, and he'll ensure you either lose your position or become his possession.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #fluff #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #disney twst #angst #twst #twst fluff #rook x mc #rook x you #rook x reader #twst fanfic #twst rook #rook hunt #vil x mc #one sided love #one sided feelings

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lpa6zn · 4 months

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The feminine urge to just pack suitcases, get a ship and set sail to hunt pedophiles/slave traders🥰🎀🫶🏻

#the feminine urge #🎀｡ﾟ･｡ﾟᐠ( ᐢ ᵕ ᐢ )ᐟ｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ🎀#just girly things 🥰#grishaverse #six of crows #inej ghafa #knife wife #shadow and bone #six of crows spin off #save shadow and bone #amita suman #just silly things

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baby-xemnas · 3 months

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We see Law dote on Bepo all the time, but Has Bepo ever doted on Law??

god yes absolutely

bepo 100% lives out the feminine urge to be daddy's mommy

canon (to novel) Bepo makes Law herbal teas!!! sorry its my favorite thing in the world because its so domestic and adorable.

honestly lying still so captain can nap on him? doting

being a pillow in any shape or form is doting be it on the deck or in their shared bed where Bepo is all soft and nice and inviting captain to please go to sleep its late stop studying look how soft i am~

i want to believe Bepo regularly hunts for fish for Law and would wrestle any sea creature so his beloved has fresh fish to have with his rice

when they are in a social situation and Bepo feels like Law wants out of there Bepo will cause some type of scene and be a baby so that Law has to be like well i have no choice i have to take care of my DIVA (but its actually for Laws own sake)

you know he dotes on him in a million small ways every day like bringing him something or remembering something so Law doesnt have to etc. just regularly trying to be as helpful as possible he is running circles around Law so he has a good and comfortable day

#anonymous #lawbepo

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shadowqueenjude · 6 months

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Tamlin stared at Lucien as he entered the room. It had been ages since he had visited him. Only Lucien’s demand that he stay alive had kept him eating, kept him around here. It was ridiculous, really.

Hardly anyone lived here anymore. They’d all retreated to Summer, else they’d traveled to other courts. He was a pathetic failure just like his father had told him he would be. High Lord of nothing. He didn’t even understand why Lucien kept coming back. Tamlin had treated him like shit; he wouldn’t blame him at all for leaving. The person he’d wronged the most. It had been a couple of years since the land went to ruins, but Tamlin still felt embarrassed that Lucien was there, looking at the ruins. He had the sudden urge to clean everything up, but he couldn’t muster the energy to, nor did he have the slightest idea how to fix what was already broken. But Lucien stood there, and it was a different look from the past few times he’d come to him. Less exhaustion, less pain. There was something glimmering there- something like hope. “Tam,” he said, and Tamlin tried not to wince at the term of endearment. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve his affection or even his presence- “Tamlin, we can fix this place. We can heal this land. Just listen to me for a few minutes.” Tamlin didn’t dare believe, but he couldn’t stamp out the small bubble of hope that grew in his stomach. Perhaps it was because he was used to Lucien working his magic and solving problems seemingly with a wave of his hand, but he had the utmost faith in him to have solved a problem as impossible as this. So he sat there and listened as he explained everything. Tamlin stared at him skeptically. “How are you going to pull that off?” Lucien rolled his eyes. “Have a little faith in me, Tam, won’t you?” He did. He had all the faith in the world in his emissary and friend. But he merely nodded his head, afraid to offend Lucien and scare him away. Lucien smirked at his obedience, then offered a hand to pull him up.

Tamlin let Lucien lift him up and realized in the ease of it that Tamlin had lost a lot of weight. His soldier’s body was gone, replaced by the frail body of the sick and dying. He blushed in shame at his weak body, that Lucien was there to see it, but Lucien wasn’t even looking anymore; he was just walking out of the house, clearly expecting Tamlin to follow. He shuffled his feet behind him, uncertain of what exactly awaited him outside. Tamlin found himself staring at the middle Archeron sister. The resemblance to Feyre wasn’t as clear as it was with Nesta, but Elain still very much resembled her. Her owl-like eyes stared at him inquisitively as Lucien laced his fingers with hers.

Right, they were mates. Tamlin had forgotten. Tamlin tried to be happy for him; no one deserved happiness and a mate more than Lucien. But all he could think about was that he’d lost one Archeron sister and his best friend to another one. He had lost everything to the Archerons, because of the Archerons. Then he hated himself for his jealousy of his friend who had felt so much hurt in his life. “My mate has magic that could heal this land. Healing magic.” Tamlin’s eyes narrowed at Elain. The innocent sister always protected by Nesta, as narrated by Feyre. Tamlin had always thought Feyre had seen her sisters unclearly, had noticed Feyre hadn’t considered work that was done within the household, merely resenting her sisters for not helping her hunt. Of course, he hadn’t told her that because he’d been trying to woo her at that would’ve definitely hurt his chances. But he’d never seen Elain as the innocent, helpless damsel Feyre had thought she was. Especially not a woman who the Cauldron deemed worthy of a man as fiery as Lucien. So when Elain refused to balk from his gaze, instead standing up straighter and staring right back at him, Tamlin saw the strong feminine woman that she truly was. “What makes you think you can heal this land? Why don’t I just ask Thesan to come help me? He’s the High Lord of the court of healing.” Lucien scoffed but said nothing, allowing his mate to take the lead. She smiled slightly, angling her head at him. “Thesan doesn’t have healing powers straight out of the Cauldron itself. His magic is different, tied to the land he’s connected to. Mine isn’t. It’s unique, just as Nesta’s flames are. It’s almost as if I was made for this- made to complete this task.” Lucien beamed at her, and Tamlin’s heart strained at the open affection between them. But he bowed his head and stepped back, giving way to Elain to do whatever she had to do. She began to walk, and Lucien followed her. Not knowing what else to do, Tamlin did the same. He wasn’t sure what in the world Elain was looking for, but she walked into the forest, and Tamlin let out a low noise of warning. “Please, Tam, we can take care of ourselves.” He pulled out a sword, but Tamlin shapeshifted into his beast form just in case.

“By the Cauldron, what an overprotective idiot,” Lucien muttered, and Tamlin snarled at him. Lucien just stroked his head, chuckling. “You look like you could a good brush, Tam.” A throwback to that line Feyre had thrown at him. Tamlin couldn’t help but smile at the bittersweet memory. Tamlin knew these woods by heart, so he knew where Elain was going after a few minutes. Elain led them to the pool of starlight, kneeling before it like it was a prayer hearth. “Every court has an origin point, the source of their magic,” Elain explained softly. “This is the origin of Spring.” Lucien enquired, “How in the Cauldron do you know that?” Elain laughed softly. “Exactly, darling. The Cauldron- or rather the Mother- didn’t just gift me the second Sight. She gifted me with knowledge- knowledge about the origins of our world.”

Then abruptly, Elain began to strip. Tamlin looked away out of respect, but not before he saw Lucien turn into a blushing mess. Tamlin laughed to himself. He’d never seen Lucien flustered ever; not in centuries. People got flustered by him because he was so handsome and charming. Elain must be something special. Tamlin felt that tinge of pain again before he suppressed it again. Tamlin didn’t look back until he heard the splash that meant Elain had fully submerged herself in the water. Tamlin shapeshifted back into his High Fae form, watching in amazement as Elain began to glow. Her hair floated above her head, and a golden corona began to surround her. If Nesta was Lady Death, this woman was Lady Life. And she was glowing with it. She continued to glow brighter and brighter until Tamlin had to look away and shield himself with a hand. At last, the light dissipated, and Tamlin looked back at her. “Wow,” he whispered. Lucien only stared at her with a soft smile on his face. Elain smiled back at him before she moved to ascend out of the water. Tamlin closed his eyes, waiting until Elain told him it was safe to look back again. “You can look now,” Elain said. Tamlin opened his eyes and stared at her. “What did you just do?” Elain shrugged, smiling mysteriously. “Let’s see.” Severely nonplussed, Tamlin walked back towards the Spring Court manor. The crunch of the leaves was extremely loud but Tamlin ignored it; he assumed it was his High Lord senses that was able to sense it but something felt…different in the air. Something that had been dead earlier felt brighter. Even the forest felt less silent.

Tamlin walked through the forest clearing and stopped short at the sight before him. “The roses…they’re back.” Tamlin ran towards the roses that had been reduced to nothing but thorns just a half an hour earlier. He savored the floral smell that had been so absent in the air. He bent over and drunk in the roses’ aroma deep like he was a bee. Then he covered his face with his hands and began to sob. “Tam, are you ok?” Lucien’s hand was on his shoulder. “Ok? I’m fucking joyous,” Tamlin choked out, finally getting up and embracing Lucien. “Once again, your connections come to save the day,” Tamlin whispered against him. “Thank you.”

Lucien patted his back before pulling away. “This wasn’t me. This was all my mate.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Tamlin knew Lucien would never take the least bit of credit at the expense of his mate, so he walked towards Elain and clasped her hands in his own. “Thank you,” Tamlin said in a broken whisper. “You are a miracle, and I’m so glad Lucien has a mate as wonderful as you.” Elain beamed. “Lucien has told me a lot about you too. How you saved his life at the border, how you worked so hard to protect your people and for the freedom of others.” Tamlin blushed. “I’m obviously not very good at it, considering what happened.” Elain’s smile faded. “That is more an err on my sister’s part than your own.” Tamlin’s shoulders slumped.

“What’s the point of fixing Spring anyway? No one wants to live here with me as a High Lord.” Elain only shrugged. “I think you’d be surprised, Tamlin.” Lucien cleared his throat. “So, my mate’s sister, Nesta, has decided to leave the Night Court and she’s brought some companions with her. They’ve spent a long time sheltered in an underground library because they’re sexual assault victims, but this would be the perfect kind of place for them to get more used to the outdoors. Mostly empty, peaceful, and with a High Lord like you.” Tamlin knew his face was red as a tomato as he stammered, “I’m not- I can’t even- but-“ “There’s more,” Lucien interrupted. “They’ve all agreed to help you rebuild. They only ask for one thing in return.” Tamlin looked down. This was too good to be true. “What is it?” Just then, Nesta Archeron strode into Tamlin’s field of vision, seemingly out of nowhere. Since when could she winnow? Following behind her were an assortment of ladies dressed like priestesses and Illyrian women.

“Well, we’ve heard you’re a great warrior and considering I left the Night Court, we are, unfortunately, down an instructor. Care for the job?” Tamlin’s jaw dropped. Last time he’d seen the stone-cold eldest sister of Feyre’s, she’d sent that death finger at him. Now here she was, eyebrow raised, asking if he’d teach a group of girls she appeared to be the leader of how to fight. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do,” Tamlin answered, but inside he was glowing. He had some value in this world! “Excellent. Congratulations, High Lord. You’re the new instructor of the Valkyries.” Tamlin blinked. The Valkyries had unfortunately died off ages ago. “We’re reviving them,” a red-haired girl at Nesta’s side perked up before Tamlin could say anything. Tamlin bowed to them. “Well then, I’m honored to be part of their resurgence.” Lucien embraced Tamlin, who had tears in his eyes. “Do you have to go now?” Tamlin complained. He knew he sounded like such a whiny brat, but he couldn't help it: he missed Lucien, selfish as it was. Lucien only rolled his eyes. “Stop being so clingy, Tam. You have Nesta and the Valkyries to help you fix this place. You won’t be alone.” Tamlin stamped his food. “But none of them are you!” Lucien just smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll come and visit, Tamlin, relax. But let me tell you, I’m so tired of everything right now. I mean, first there was killing Beron, then it was freeing Vassa from Koschei-“

“Hold up. What?” Tamlin demanded. What the hell had happened? What had Tamlin missed in his depressed state? Lucien winked. “Later, Tam. I’ll tell you everything. But for now…I need a fucking vacation.”

Tamlin stared at the spot where Lucien and Elain had winnowed away. “You alright?” a voice came from behind him. Tamlin turned around, surprised to find Nesta’s silver-blue eyes so close. So beautiful- so much like her sister. Tamlin managed to master himself enough to say, “Yes. Thank you…Nesta.” She smiled, and Tamlin blinked. He’d only ever seen her glare or smirk; it was jarring to see a genuine smile on her face. “You have a pretty smile,” Tamlin said without thinking. Then mentally face palmed himself. Nesta just smiled wider. “Thank you.” Then she walked away, Tamlin staring after her. That night was one of the best he’d had in a long time. He no longer felt worthless living in emptiness. He had a life, a purpose. Something to do. His beautiful roses were restored. All was not lost. He was Tamlin the High Lord of Spring, and he wasn’t going to sit here and waste away into nothing. Tamlin got up and got ready to teach the Valkyries a thing or two even the Illyrians didn’t know. For @achaotichuman happy birthday, sweetheart.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #tamlin #pro tamlin #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #anti nessian #fanfic

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justpostsyeet · 9 months

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Mîr Vin Universe : Origins

Ch 1 : Unexpected guest

Glorfindel and Gildor stood at the docks of the great sea, the air tinged with the poignant essence of Elven farewells. Círdan, with his timeless wisdom, saw the departing elves off as they embarked on their journey. Glorfindel has came all the way from imladris to Grey havens make sure that the elves are departed for journey to Valinors. These elves served as marchwardens in the Great war of Second age. Now 300 years into The third age the peace finally seemed to come to them. Many were departing from middle earth to their home, Valinor. Glorfindel looked at them fondly, as much as he loved his birthland he somehow knew that his duties in middle earth has not been fulfilled yet no matter what others say.

Cirdan requested Gildor and Glorfindel to stay a moon cycle and train his soldier, the offer they accepted to train the young elves per as Gildor pointed out "how many times you get to break free from your boring mundane routine."

Glorfindel thought 5 days of backbreaking training was enough for starry eyed soldier to be wary of their great wander warrior Lord Gildor and The great Balrog slayer Lord Glorfindel but he was wrong. He underestimated the energy of youth and the sheer power of giddy starry eyed excitement. They did everything they were asked to do, like everything, he was pretty sure that if Gildor asked them to jump off the cliff, they would have asked which cliff is high enough to jump.

It was his turn to take them to the nearby forest to train them in forest ranger skills. The day was warm, the trees seemed joyful for some reason and the environment overall was peaceful. Yet, as they ventured forth, an unsettling feeling enveloped them. Intrigued, Glorfindel led a small group of soldiers into the nearby forest. Glorfindel's sharp gaze scrutinized the unexpected presence of the white wolves, their appearance raising myriad questions. These creatures, rarely straying from their mountainous abode, were notorious for their territorial nature, fiercely defending against any intruders, be it beast, man, dwarf, or elf. What perplexed Glorfindel even more was their distinct hunting style. Unlike regular wolf packs that tested prey endurance over long distances, the white wolves were ambush predators – larger, stronger, and displaying a remarkable intelligence that set them apart.

Their refusal to succumb to Morgoth's influence showcased not only their strength but their cunning adaptability. Now, in this unforeseen encounter, the white wolves exhibited behavior contrary to expectations. Communicating boldly, they seemed to surround and protect an injured, humanoid figure – seemingly human, yet bearing an otherworldly aura.

Glorfindel, ever vigilant, readied his bow and arrow, swiftly pursued the scene. The wolves began to drawing back as if returning to the mountains. When Glorfindel arrived to the scene wolves were in packs already treating towards the mountains, leaving a figure laying on forest floor. This was a feminine figure that he could tell, not injured too as she was not bleeding. Everything seemed to be out of danger. Yet, a new danger unfolded as one of Glorfindel's companions mistook the injured woman for an enemy, readying an arrow in her direction. The golden-haired ellon intervened, halting his companions and protecting the young lady from harm. Feredir, the medic of the group recognizing the situation, urged others to stand down, emphasizing the need to safeguard the young woman's well-being.

Glorfindel looked at the woman like creature strange grab. Glorfindel knew that this creature was not the second born,there was something particular about her but he couldnt quite put his fingers on it. He observed the peculiar attire of the young woman, her clothing markedly distinct from the familiar garb of Middle-earth. The loose tunic and broad pants, crafted from an expensive and finely dyed cotton, stood in stark contrast to the conventional attire of the elves. Her footwear, fashioned from a soft cotton material rather than the customary leather, featured an unusual hardness on the soles.

The enigma extended to her accessories – transparent lenses with metallic blue frames covered her eyes, concealing her gaze. Jewels adorned her person, hinting at a level of sophistication unfamiliar to Glorfindel. Her hair, tied in a bun and her nails seemed very dark in color unlike any mannish tribe he knows.

Curiosity piqued, Glorfindel carefully lifted the young woman, noting the presence of several strange-looking bags. With a sense of responsibility, he handed the bags to a fellow soldier, ensuring their safekeeping. Cradling the mysterious visitor, Glorfindel mounted his horse, signaling for the group to return to Grey Havens.

The journey back unfolded with the elven party, now carrying an unexpected guest, making their way through the wooded paths, the distant waves of the sea serving as a constant companion. As they approached the Grey Havens, the mystery of the young woman from beyond Middle-earth lingered, casting a shadow of intrigue over the elves.

#lotr #mîr vin universe #Glorfindel x mîr x lindir #Glorfindel x oc #Glorfindel x reader #lindirx oc #lindir x reader #Glorfindel x Lindir #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #the Hobbit #hobbit #the silmarillion #silmarillion #mîr #Glorfindel #lindir

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calmlyy-chaotiic · 5 months

Text

Hello ockins/fictionkins

i need advice

(tw for mentions of fictional abuse, violence, and related trauma)

I'm trying to figure out if I'm an ockin or not, and I could use some input. This is gonna be a long post so check under the cut for the info.

So, the oc in question is Leona. She was originally created back when I was a teenager (a few years ago). She was made as an avatar/player character for the game Pokémon: Legends Arceus. At the start, she was basically just me, but cooler. Typical sona type thing. Fast forward a few months, and I start changing her story, eventually creating this whole dark au of the game and giving her a bunch of trauma and all that jazz.

I got... VERY attached to her, very quickly. Thinking about her all the time, coming up with new details, rambling about her. More characters joined her story, and she formed bonds with them.

I'm starting to realize that she might be a kintype of mine.

Since I've been writing her, I've gotten moments where it feels like I AM her. I know what she feels, how she views the other ocs in her story, how she reacts to her trauma, and I sort of... share those feelings. I'm terrible at explaining things, but it's more than just "getting to know the character" like I've seen other writers talk about.

As she's gotten attached to her friends and her family, so have I. It's like I see them as MY family, and not just because they're my ocs.

For example: there's a character named Ricochet that was originally going to be her best friend. Purely platonic. I was in one of my "Leona moods" where I was thinking like her, feeling like her, etc. That's when I started wondering if there were any romantic feelings towards Ricochet, and BAM. I could SEE her face, picture her voice and her laugh, and it felt like I was genuinely in love. However, I only feel like this when I "am" Leona.

It probably sounds stupid/weird, but I don't know how else to explain it.

Another thing that I think about a lot is this one time my mom was jokingly asking me questions and talking to me like I WAS Leona, and calling me Leona, and I got this HUGE dose of euphoria. I don't really get species euphoria, and normally I'd dislike being referred to by a feminine name, but it felt RIGHT

Now, onto the problems with her being a kintype.

Leona is a violent person who does bad violent things.

She has violent urges.

When I "am" her, I sort of get them too. It's a lot like what I imagine some predator therians deal with, like wanting to bite people or hunt things? (I'm a canine therian, but I've never gotten urges like these for any kintypes before Leona)

Also, Leona has a lot of trauma and mental problems (namely familial abuse and ptsd) that I don't have, and I feel like by "being" her I'm disrespecting people who actually struggle with those things

Another thing I feel like is weird is that she is a cis woman, and a lesbian, and I am neither of those things?? I'm a genderqueer guy, I prefer masc terms, and I'm omni, so??

Finally, outside of when I'm getting "shifts" for her (if that's even what these are), I don't act like her at all. We still have some similarities left over from her being a past sona of mine, but otherwise there's nothing.

So, ockins!! Fictionkins!! What're your opinion? Is it plausible that I'm an ockin? Do I just have something deeply wrong with me??

#ockin #fiction kin #asking for advice #finding kintypes

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youremyheaven · 3 months

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I'm the OP that brought Freud into the chat- that other anon is so real, very true about Jupiter women + I definitely see how the daddy issues are pronounced in Bharani but yeah I've seen it with all of them. For example, I know a Purvaphalguni man who's parents were heroin addicts and he never got to know either of them and he really has this energy of like, wanting to 'be the man' but going terribly wrong with it because he has no idea of what 'the man' is supposed to look like. He was a bit creepy though- he used to always tell me that I look like I'd make a good mother and I seem ideal to 'breed with', he was like 'you radiate fertility' ☠️ it's giving Elon Musk lol

That's another thing oml, Venus men are so calculated about judging women's fertility/maternal qualities. They're the kinda dudes that really look at women and go, mhmm wide hips, long thick hair, sparkling eyes, scientifically this is a fertile woman fit to bare my offspring 🧐 like they're more concerned with attuned to those scientific metrics than they are to like, what constitutes beauty as far as modern trends go.

I saw you writing about how Venus men are drawn to traditional femininity and that's true, I know too much about Venus men because I seem to attract them a lot, I think because I'm lunar so they view me as the traditional feminine archetype/very submissive. They seem to hate when they find out I have thoughts and I'm not just a cartoon princess though hahaha 👹

Then yeah in some cases Venusian men see their dad's incompetence and feel the urge to be the mannn but then simultaneously get an inferiority complex since they realise they're just a kid & can't do that

GIRLLLL omg you're brilliant

OMG IM SCREAMING, i thought it was just a me thing but I attract a lot of Venusian men and many of them have told me I give fertility goddess vibes or implied that "you'd be a good mom" and have mentioned me being "nurturing" lmfaooo,, I've always felt like they wanted me because I seem submissive and breedable and I guess this confirms it lol

Not the Elon Musk comparison 😭😭bc its sooo true 💀💀

Idk if its being "scientific minded" but they're very "raw masculine" like a caveman who will hunt and provide for you, while you stay home with the babies and they want a "raw feminine" type woman?? i dont think they're the type to care about society's beauty trends or being an ig baddie or something, they do like voluptuous women as you've pointed out and that goes back to their traditional views of gender bc women are "supposed" to have child bearing hips and a large bosom and that's what a "woman" is in their mind. i lowkey also think its because they grew up loving their moms so much and kind of seek that maternal-ish "mature woman" energy in their partners. So they're attracted to fertility goddess type women who have that nurturing spirit to them bc they lowkey want to be mothered and an IG baddie does not have that vibe 😬😬

every Venus man ik absolutely loved his mom and was reallyyy doted on by their mom as well.

BROOO AKKSJSJHDH i swear to god, its the same for me. they're attracted to me because i seem like a tradfem/submissive gyal and theyre so shook when I display my personality. ive never felt like they hated me for having thoughts or anything but they act so surprised for sure lmao,,, theyre like "i had no idea youd be so funny/smart etc etc" and im sure thats just something to say but like....did you just think i had no personality??? lmao??

the Venusian urge to be the mannn is 😭😭😂😩it comes from a place of trauma and i wish they'd heal but its also mildly amusing to me ngl 😶‍🌫️

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themaskstayson · 6 months

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Just want to share info on Faith in Elden Ring and Baldur's Gate 3 cause there's a few parallels.

Race: Numen is technically the race I picked in character creation, descendants of denizens of another world; long-lived but seldom born.

Faith would not inform the group of being a Numen since they have no understanding of the Land Between but i think it's safe to say Faith would just say they're human since there are so many non-human beings in Elden Ring. But they will talk about being a tarnished and Grace more often than not since Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Gale have not so great experiences with their goddesses; Faith could relate on some level on how the gods punish to the extreme and how they suffer and either push through to gain the favor of the gods or overcome the need to gain the gods favor.

Which I'll bring up Faith's eyes. Faith isn't blind. They aren't like the potentional Finger Maidens you meet like Irina, and by extension Hyatta, who have weak eye sight. I took the idea of losing Grace a bit too seriously and how the Tarnished loses the gold in their eyes because of it. I also really dig the blank eye design...

Gender: Agender

Faith see themself more as a weapon than a human and doesn't care for gender roles at all. In Elden Ring gear isn't really pushed to fem or masc presenting like how it is in BG3. Faith's body type is feminine in BG3 cause of limitations.

Age: Young

Since the Rune of Death is sealed, the Faith and others cannot die, and I'm assuming cannot age. Faith stopped aging in their early to mid 20s because that's usually when soldiers are recruited. Depending on the events, of Marika ascending to godhood and when the tarnished tries to become Elden Lord, Faith would probably be closer to Halsin's age or even older.

Sexuality: *Shrug*

Faith is probably somewhere on the ace spectrum? Sex doesn't interest them, but they will do it if "prompted." They don't need to be romantically involved to do it but they also wouldn't just so it to anyone either. So, sadly, drow twins are a no go.

Romantically, they would be polyamorous. Especially around the BG3 cast. Being alone in their journey in the Land Between to suddenly having a group to support them, they might skew the idea of romantic relationships and platonic ones. Which doesnt help when all the cast wants to fuck you if youre friendly to them. Which would have to be another post of how they view the companions' advances for sex and romance.

Class: Confessor/Paladin

The Confessors are tarnished that turned from the Golden Order and then confessed for their sins and then made into spies to hunt down other tarnished that strayed. They have high faith starting stats and use a sword and shield.

I'm not gonna learn how to mod and port over this armor or weapons to BG3 but Faith would be wearing this throughout their Faerûn adventure.

They look so good so Faith would use those lol

It only made sense to be a Paladin, despite being a spy and can easily pick rogue also. Especially with the dark urge option about your class: The oath you awoke with is some faded instinct. Felt extra fitting as to Faith serves the Golden Order to persevere Queen Marika but along the way breaks their oath once they learn more through their travels. Would restoring the Golden Order be right? Would following the Three Fingers and burn everything into a frenzy to hope that something better be born anew be better? Is restoring death a better path?

Apparently playing as a paladin Durge you can talk to the Oathbreaker and he will state that he indeed knows you and you have broken your oath before.

And with Faith's lack of faith in the Golden Order would be breaking their oath with the idea of turning from it.

Lastly why they're in Faerûn:

Faith mentions to Astarion that they were fighting the Elden Beast and died during the fight and instead of going back to the last Grace Site they touched, they ended up being removed completely from their plane of existence.

I don't have it set in stone but I am playing with the idea that the Greater Will, or another Outer God, intervened since it is possible that it is an Outer God and probably has the power to do so. Faith isn't sure what is the best outcome for the Land Between and seeing that the tarnished the Greater Will chose might cause greater harm than good, it removed Faith completely.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #my tav #my ocs #elden ring tarnished #elden ring #my tarnished #bg3 tav #oc: faith

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daryascurse · 2 years

Text

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐕: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader // ♡ follow #ULSukuna for updates ♡ // n.sfw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: dominant Sukuna, submιssive reader, οraI, rough sεx, chοkιng, spitting, slapping, fιngering, mild bIood/ wound references, physical/ verbal abusε and degradatιon Chapter length: 5k

“The alternative isn’t so bad,” he said. His voice had changed, something velvet, persuasive, close to gentle. He sounded hypnotically sweet. “Selling your body and soul to me. To be mine forever, here.”

You looked up at that, and for a moment your stomach dropped, looking into the endless pits of his eyes. You could imagine it, as if the eternity already spent here was just a hall of reflecting mirrors, each bending into each other and refracting endlessly.

An eternity, an eternity playing this game of predator and prey, an eternity of being hunted around this temple of bone.

Read after the jump or on AO3 // set the mood

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned.

“Are you satisfied?”

His voice is flat, and you let out a weak sound of agreement.

“Then let me offer you a new deal, before you leave my Domain again.”

You force your eyes open, the swimming blackness beginning to descend from the corners of your eyes once more. Sukuna is sitting, one knee drawn up with his elbow resting across it, turning his head to the side. Two eyes roll down to regard you as he speaks.

“You tire me, if we’re going to repeat this song and dance struggle every time. If I need to remind you what’s going on. If I’m doing all the work to make you heed the terms of this arrangement. Frankly, you’re close to boring me.”

You open your mouth, and close it again, uncertain.

“So let’s change the conditions. I’ll bring you back here once more, in fact,” – he barks out a harsh laugh, eyes glittering down at you – “I’ll offer you a race again, too. Next time you come here, if you can come first, you’re free. Completely free. But if it’s me, you little whore, then you’re all mine to break and dispose of when you no longer entertain.”

One more time. Another race. Another impossible race, a lying chance. But he’s waiting, and as your body thuds in time with the swirling blackness overtaking you, you say that word to agree and to bind it…

Time had never been easy to track in the rotting carcass of his Domain. It was always impossible to know how long you were strung out over him, to comprehend if time even passed in the same conventional manner of minutes, or hours. Perhaps it’s been years.

But Sukuna was working you over without pause, without break. Your wrists had been rubbed raw some time ago, beads of blood neon against your skin, and still he kept you tied with long nylon cords between each pillar. Your arms strained up as if to worship and exalt the teeth that gaped above you. Your neck ached as your head began to weigh heavy on your sore spine.

“You’re holding up well,” he said, his voice guttural from behind, and another slap landed sharp against your ass. The sting was enough to make your knees buckle, your shoulders screaming against their sockets in the urge to slump forward. The clawed hand retreated, heat searing under your skin, and you whimpered aloud.

And he was right, you were. As much as his spanks, scratches, and lashes were agony, the abuse of his hands pinching at every sensitive area so hard that your hands twisted and grasped at nothing but constraints, it was enough to burn away the humiliation of being tied spread-eagle and naked at his mercy. It was enough to tantalize, to stir those primal cravings, to feed your inner demon – but not enough to satiate. Not even close.

“It’s not fair,” you said. The words hurt to force out, your eyes hazy in the middle distance. “You said you’d give me a chance. Neither of us are - winning - this is just - torture -”

“I never said that specifically.” Sukuna’s breath was hot in your ear, teeth teasing against your lobe as if he was tempted to rip it off. “Use words with precision. That’s what got you in this whole predicament, isn’t it? Committing to a Vow like that. I still can’t believe you just said it. Still!”

His voice was gleeful, so close to laughing at his own clever observation, and his hand came down between your spread legs. He pushed against your cunt so violently that it hurt, aching up through you behind the pubic bone. It still made you grind against his hand in response. Sukuna moved violently, but the rough caress invoked that instinct to squirm, to writhe against those subtly starting vibrations, to push them higher and harder yet.

Your memory had come back clearer than ever before, those fragmented infinities in his Domain echoing. Unbidden, you remembered his sneering words from one such re-remembered instance – “a glutton for punishment,” when he had you on your side, legs knit between yours and pinning you to the ground as he thrust his cock inside over and over.

It was impossible to count how many memories you had.

You ached at the thought of his words, and rolled your hips as best as possible down against his hand again.

His other hand came to caress your throat, elbow bent against your outstretched arm. Sukuna drummed the tips of his fingers against your taunt skin, splayed his thumb down your neck and bent the nail in just enough to prick blood.

“But maybe it’s time, if you’re getting just as bored as I. I’ll give you that chance,” he said, the words slurring and wet as he hissed. His hand smeared hard down your throat, to your collarbone, and up, a macabre dance along your arm to your bound hand, snapping the nylon with ease. You swung forward almost immediately, using the last strength in your knees to keep upright.

“Pathetic if you give up now,” Sukuna jeered, and his hand slipped away from your cunt to move back, slap your ass sharply. It almost brought you forward again, and you were nothing but a rag doll as he undid your other arm. You couldn’t stop from slumping to your knees in a sprawled M shape, and you panted, throbbing under your skin as you scrambled with trembling fingers to pick at the knots keeping your ankles tied apart. You didn’t know, there was no way of knowing, how long you had been tied up between those fangs. Each writhe and lash stripped the power from your body and left you with little.

Sukuna treaded across the shrine floor as he paced before you in your huddled, shaking state, feet caked with callouses and toenails blackened. He stooped into a squat, arms carelessly resting on his knees, his open kimono spilling from his limbs to the cold slate below. Even low to the ground, he drew himself up taller than you, four-eyed gaze burning from above, fingers laced before your still- unfocused eyes.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before looking up, over the crease of his bent knees, the markings interrupting the cut of his muscles, the even rising and falling of his chest, to Sukuna’s face.

And said nothing.

His expression was… somewhat disappointed, more than anything else, the longer your silence stretched. The black lines highlighting his bone structure rippled with the furrow of his brow, and he brought a hand up to his chin as he leaned further, pushing his face down. “There’s no fear in you anymore,” he said as his eyes bore into yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, to run, to scream, to strike him. There’s no point. What’s the point. You met his eyes with flat despair, just waiting for him.

And Sukuna was angry . The frown turned deep, an ugly scowl ripping across his devilishly handsome features. He curled his lips, and spat.

It barely missed your face, falling between your splayed fingers to the ground.

“I thought I made it clear. I’m sick of this cowardly shit.”

You said nothing still, and his hand lashed forward, grabbing at the top of your head and fingernails digging down into your skull. It forced your head back, your neck collapsed into your shoulders, and you gasped for air suddenly stuck in your throat.

His glistening ruby eyes were wild, teeth bared in a terrible grin.

“Come on,” Sukuna said, growling his words, “come on, you little whore, prove there’s still that fight in you. You can manage one last fight, can’t you? That’s why you’re here, right?”

Last.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but he jerked to his knees. His kimono fell further down, draping his elbows, pooling on the floor, and with the other hand, thrust his cock forward into your mouth. The sound you made was gargled, chokingly cut off, your fingers scrabbled across the filthy ground as you tried to push yourself up. Sukuna’s hand on your head slipped back, almost cradling your skull in cruel embrace as he moved you back and fucked his hips again into your mouth.

And your mouth was just a sleeve for his cock, your lips stretched wide over it. Tears threatened to leak. Your next breath came as a gurgle as the scent of him rose, the flavor salty, sharp, overtaking your senses. Your hands curled into fists, then out again, finding an anchor.

You couldn’t stop looking at Sukuna, as the pleasure overtook the anger in his face, the muscles of his arms tense, skin pale in the sickly light. His tongue darted out to lick and lick at his lower lip. He looked wild, so beautiful and so terrible, and your throat convulsed as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked against him.

A nail broke against the stone floor in your next tense flex of fingers. Your cry was muffled by his cock, the jerking slide against the roof of your mouth in time with the vibrations of your voice causing those trembling tears to fall down your cheeks. Pain shot sharp up your arm, and your shoulders tensed, but you moved forward again on your own, taking him back in your mouth even as you lifted your unwounded hand to hold the rest of his cock. Your fingers slid, wet with saliva, and you moved them down, to cup, caress. And Sukuna laughed as he moved his hips faster in return.

“You know why you’re not fighting, don’t you?”

Sukuna gripped the sides of your head in two hands, holding you in place as he thrusted in and stilled, choking you with his cock down your throat. You whimpered, gurgled, saliva bubbling from your lips, the tightness at the back of your mouth restricting airflow.

“My special little slut. Because you know that you were made for this, for taking my cock.”

He pulled out, and you gasped for breath, the instinctual tears rolling down your cheeks threatening to turn into a sobbing cry.

“I knew it,” Sukuna continued, “I knew from the moment I saw you, before you even knew it. My perfect whore, and you’re going to stay with me forever now, aren’t you? However long I define that, of course.”

You swallowed, and your mouth fell back open, tongue pushing against the back of your teeth.

This last fight, this last race, this last part of the Vow. Here it began.

“Keep that mouth open wide,” Sukuna said, and he thrust in again, as your hand found its way back up to hold him. He was twitching, tangy as precum mixed with your own slobbering drool, and your eyes rolled with the growing strength of his motions. In the cross vision he doubled, two ghastly faces in devilish elation, and the nudging desire between your thighs returned with a nagging demand. You clenched your muscles, tried to draw your exhausted knees together, rubbed your legs against each other.

And that demand reminded you – this was a race he couldn’t win.

So you breathed hard through your nose and pushed your hand away from his cock, splayed against his stomach as you tried to wrench your head from his grasp.

Sukuna roared with delight.

“There it is!” he panted, in a voice so heavy you were so momentarily terrified that you’d done it, that he had been pushed over the edge, but he lets go of your head and you gasped through raw lungs as he knelt back, shedding his kimono completely. You rubbed your throat, gasping, and Sukuna reached forward – clapped his hand on your shoulder in a show of good sportsmanship, smiled in a jovial way that displayed all his wet teeth, nostrils flaring as he struggled to control his breath the same as you.

“That would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? I always wanted my women with some spirit. And that’s always when you’ve been at your most interesting,” he said.

You glowered up at him and shrugged away, dropping your shoulder to free yourself from his grasp.

He narrowed all four of his eyes, lifted his hand, and slapped your face.

It wasn’t hard enough to bruise or bleed, but it turned your head, and you gasped, raising your shaking hand to hold yourself. Your skin flared, burning. It was as if you could feel the color red.

“Bit hypocritical for that,” you muttered.

“I could kill you now where you lie,” Sukuna hissed.

He wouldn’t. Would he? You swallowed, keeping your eyes diverted. No, he wouldn’t end this cat and mouse game so quickly.

But Sukuna reached forward again, taking your face in his hand, his claw-like nails digging into your jaw as he forced your head back forward to him. Your eyes blinked down, your scraped hands, your wrists banded with your own dried blood, and his knees crouched before you.

The patterns matched.

An eternity of fucking, an eternity playing this game of predator and prey, an eternity of being hunted around this temple of bone.

Sukuna’s hand moved down, caressed your throat again as his thumb dragged across your lower lip, and you opened your mouth in response. He leaned down into you, and your chest heaved forward with the next breath, unable to blink or look away. The pit lurched in your stomach as you flung your arms over his shoulders to draw him closer still, looking up at him in a cursed embrace.

“There’s one other alternative,” you whispered to the tempting demon man. “That I win.”

He blinked – he blinked first – and the pupils settled with the sneer overtaking his features once more. He drew his lips back and spat again, this time directly into your mouth, and crushed your lips with his in a harsh kiss.

You dug your nails into his back, biting his lower lip as the pain from the broken fingernail shot cold back up through your arm. Sukuna growled into your mouth as he shifted forward, and he almost bit your tongue in response. He forced you further, without a bracing arm on your back to guide you down, and you broke the kiss with a gasp, turning away to settle on your elbows. Sukuna didn’t give you a moment, hand coming hard to the side of your face again as he pushed his body between your raised knees, coming to the shrine floor with you.

Sukuna moved down your body with bites, against your collarbone, opened his mouth at your nipple to bite just around it, and you arched your back to wail at the cavern walls. He repeated at the other before raking his fingernails down the side of your hip, and you screamed again.

“Get on your stomach,” he said, and you did so, keeping your legs pressed together as the throbbing spread from your core down to your cunt. His hands sunk, more like claws than ever, into your ass, and he squeezed, smacked, until you were moaning loud once more. You were rushing wet, the skin between your thighs cold when his breath touched, forcing your legs apart as he shifted down between you.

The moans only made him move more. He pressed his face against your cunt, and your eyes rolled back as the lip and teeth of his lower jaw pressed right into you, harsh, the softness of his tongue only a teasing suggestion flickering against your skin. Your hips jerked up in response, and the sounds started to come from behind, Sukuna panting as he licked you, moaned into you in turn.

Your breath grew uneven, your hands covered your face as you rolled into your fingers in shame, in elation, and a hand came between your thighs as he slipped it up, began rubbing in his harsh earnest.

And finally Sukuna’s tongue was moving up, lapping at your folds, at the arousal dripping from you, and it was so much softer than his cruel fingers as it dipped and hunted through you. He was searching for the places that made you jerk your hips, and you did, again, and again, higher and higher. Your hand slid down, under your stomach, spreading yourself apart, and his tongue found your clit with new ease. You groaned, his name sliding in a sigh from you, and your muscles clenched, thighs trembling, cunt aching for his cock deep inside.

“Please,” you gasped, eyes reeling, heart pounding in your ears.

“Please, what?” It felt like Sukuna lifted his mouth, leaving you cold, wet, glistening. His hand withdrew, even as yours began to rub harder against yourself.

“It’s not going to be that easy, you stupid whore.”

You groaned, in misery now, as Sukuna withdrew from you. But he came back, hissing wet in your ear as an arm wrapped around your stomach, lifting your hips higher as your legs began to bend, bringing you up to kneel. His fingers squeezed at the flesh over your hips as it spilled into his grasp and you shook at it. His cock rested hard against the side of your hip as he tugged you close to his chest, your sore and broken skin stinging and screaming against the heat of his body.

“Keep touching yourself,” Sukuna said, rasping and thick, and he bit your earlobe.

You rubbed against yourself, feeling so swollen, so full of pain and arousal. You used the heel of your throbbing hand to brace yourself on the ground, pushing up against his body. And the finger kept at your clit, kept rubbing at his command, was covered soon by his own as he shifted his embrace against you, giving a harder friction and strength that made you cry out again.

“More, Sukuna, please, please!”

All the rush his lashings and teasing had pushed through you boiled right under you, threatening at any moment to burst in delicious waves, and you bucked your hips against his.

“Do you want it?”

“I do,” you groaned, and he bit your ear, and you shuddered into him. Even as your fingers stilled, he persistently pushed forward. “ Fuck , it hurts, please –”

His laugh was cruel.

“This is nothing, you slut. Wait until I show you real pain.”

The feeble strength in your hips gave at that, just as Sukuna forced his knee against your legs to push them even further apart. He lowered himself with you, pulling his hand up from your cunt and wiping your own slick over your stomach as the gesture eased you to the floor again. You felt his hand come to your hip as he guided himself finally, finally, into you.

“Ah - ”

You gasped as he entered, so deep, so perfectly fitting what you needed, but your air was cut off when Sukuna’s hand slid, spreading you apart for a painful moment, to come up to your throat and squeeze.

It was strong enough to cut off your breath, your tongue forced out over your lower lip in reflex, and he squeezed again. There was only throbbing – in your head, with everything slowly dimming, in your neck, against Sukuna’s crushing fingers, and down in your cunt, the pulse as his cock drove again and again into you. You were only dimly aware of the way your body shook, your hips ground into the floor with each of his thrusts, your hands straining uselessly and scraping raw. Sukuna laughed somewhere above you, the force of it pounding through you, and his fingers fluttered as your vision started to go black.

But he had been right that time, that time he had said, “a glutton for punishment” indeed, and you arched weakly back into Sukuna, cunt clenching desperately against each thrust of his cock.

He let go then, and you completely collapsed, and he laughed again through wet teeth as you gulped air. Tears came once more down your face when you choked and coughed violently. When you found the strength in your forearms to lift yourself off the ground, even as his body caged around you, a puddle of tears and saliva had gathered on the floor.

“What a mess, you filthy whore ,” Sukuna said, and he ground his hips down against yours, his cock brutal and stretching you so deeply. He paused, straining into you with a forced stillness, as your legs twitched beneath the knot of his own.

“Sukuna…” you rasped, trembling.

He was pushing up through you, almost to every part of your body, but stopping had done you no favors, and you shifted anxiously as best as you could, hunting for that friction once more.

“Please,” you said, yet again.

Sukuna moved, at last, but this was worse , and you whimpered when he pulled completely out and did not slide back between your thighs to your needy, waiting cunt.

“On your back again,” he said. “I want to see you so desperate for air.”

But this time he didn’t wait for you to lift your own aching body. He turned you with ease. Your eyes rolled, the blue light and yawning infinite cavern of the shrine reaching endlessly above, before Sukuna settled between you and filled your sight again, leaning over you. He nudged your leg again with his knee, and slid into you with an ease that made you throb even harder, shivering against him, every muscle fluttering.

“Yes,” Sukuna said, and your eyes rolled again when his hand came back, a hard cuff against your throat. Each desperate breath, as shallow and forced as they were, pulled the strength of his thrusts through you, even as the dullness began to spread again. Your hands went numb, head went heavy, and Sukuna kept fucking you, each stroke of his cock pressing his hand hard against your airway and off again.

“I could do this forever,” you thought you heard him say, and a feeble shiver went through you because the thought rolled in allure again - oh, Sukuna, fucking against this floor forever -

Your eyes ached, bulging. You might have tried to say something as he moved with all his weight on top of you, but your vision began to grow dim right when Sukuna let go. You gurgled, gasped for air, lips and eyes wet.

“You become my useless toy when I do that,” Sukuna spat, and that evil, awful smile curved over his face.

Fucking on this floor forever, until he squeezes for a final time.

Time began to stretch again, an endless loop as you quivered below him, your body both lifted from the shrine floor and crushed back into it by the force of his own strength. The heat of him was unbearable; hotter than hellfire, and worse still was the burning of his gaze. Sukuna did not divert his four eyes from you as he fucked you with mouth open and feral groans. Saliva slipped from his lips down to your skin as he interrupted himself with quick open kisses, and you found yourself moaning in chorus.

“Fuck, oh, fuck… ”

This was not love. This was something darker, stronger, deeper, more consuming and more complete. And you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him down to your mouth for a suffocating kiss, tasting yourself still on his tongue.

Sukuna moaned, and your hips shook, arousal flaring in your core with the vibration of him against you. You felt feverish, and you bucked back up into him, moaning in response as you rutted up against him and his cock hit there, right there , so deep inside you that your body began to shake, knees jerking up and feet flexing between his.

“Oh!” you screamed, the sound ricocheting as - there -

But he felt it as his breath hitched, and you felt it too, and you broke from his mouth and cried out in euphoria as the orgasm, so long withheld, roared through you. It was immediately dizzying, a spiral twisting through your core, down to the contractions of your inner muscles going faster and faster, your entire body running hot.

He had forgotten the game in his pleasure, and his teeth gnashed.

“You…fucking…whore…”

And his words were another lash, one last sweet surge of pain.

Sukuna came too, just a little too late to grab that victory. He fucked you desperately with thighs glued with sweat against yours, and he ran hot through you when he reached his own climax. His fingers tightened against the back of your shoulders just as you let go, arms falling to the floor, and he thrust hard into you as your clenching muscles spasmed around his cock, holding your body up against his.

As it roared and ebbed, you thought of it yet again, half-formed images and incoherent words, of always doing this , living some half-life here, under his thumb, under his body, for him to eternally rip you apart and hold you back together – until the day would come that he would snap your neck and kill you on this floor.

It sent a shudder through you, and you shook even as Sukuna lifted himself, withdrew from your swollen and throbbing cunt, and rolled panting to his side.

No. That infinite future was no more.

You forced your eyes to him, just as he turned to you. He looked wrecked, his face sweaty, and it struck you – this was the most human Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, had ever appeared.

“You won,” he said in a pale disbelief, and you bit back the smile, physically sucking your cheeks between your teeth.

Won.

This was good, right? You staggered to your feet, clutching at the pillar, panting and catching your breath. All you felt was your heartbeat and the fluid sliding from between your thighs. Sukuna’s seed glistened against your skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence deafening.

“That’s it,” you said, your voice small.

“It is.”

Again, silence, before Sukuna sighed.

“Then, farewell,” he said, an exaggerated politeness in his voice that poorly veiled his disgust – if it was disgust, if it was disdain, if it wasn’t disappointment that was so heavy in his words. You couldn’t see his eyes as he rolled his thumb and index finger together, nails flicking against each other. “Congratulations. You have completed the terms of the agreement, so we are released from our Vow. You will return forever to your life with only the memories of me.”

So this is… goodbye.

“It was... a good game, after all," he said, half-musing.

And as your heart began to pound faster, something in you recoiled at the thought, some strange, aching drop of misery, of something close to grief. You thought again, as he closed his eyes, of the mirrored possibilities of eternity. The pit deep in your stomach screamed so suddenly, shockingly - no, no, no, - and you reached with a trembling hand for him, even as blackness began to cloud around you, even as he turned from you to walk back, away into the shrine.

Sukuna did stop, and you saw the profile of his face as he turned. Two eyes blinked back to you just for a moment, and there was a bitter laugh in his parting words.

“I never even asked your name, did I?”

And you found yourself sobbing, clutching the air as it all disappeared around you. It - disappears. And then you can’t see Sukuna anymore.

You open your eyes and meet shocking white light.

All that happened. All that, and so much more.

Your vision swims. It spins too heavily for you to keep your eyes open and take in your bright, corporeal surroundings, and you close them as nausea rolls through you. You think of his face, so permanent behind your eyelids. All the memories, every infinite one, flood your mind, coming again, and again, faster and faster like through the collapsed walls of a broken dam. Sukuna. Endless Sukuna, leaving you with the terrible parting gift of all your memories.

You’re crying.

Everything aches, everything hurts. It’s like your skin was turned inside out and forced over your muscles and then put back the right way. It’s an overwhelming motion sickness punching up through your guts. Even though your eyes are closed, you lift your fists to rub furiously at the back of your lids, sending a web of red and yellow and green sparks through the black static as tears burn and blur. It doesn’t help the queasiness. Even the pain searing across your skin, so sharp against your broken fingernail, doesn't dull the pictures. It doesn’t suffocate the visions, the memories ever-coming, of Sukuna’s body, his teeth, his voice and eyes and hands all over you.

Bile threatens to rise, and you gasp, coughing through your tears.

“It’s okay,” comes a voice.

A different voice. A new voice.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “Take your time.”

A sheer panic beats through you with each passing pulse pounding sharper and sharper. You part your lips, but no words come out. You’re really here. Back. Out of his Domain. And someone else stands by your side in his stead.

“I’m going to be sick,” you say at last, pushing the heels of your palms into your eyes so hard you see violet.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Just be sure to roll on your side.”

Are you on your back? You can’t sit up, let alone heave yourself up on an elbow to lean to the side. Whatever you’re lying on is cold, hard, and it sends another dizzying spike of nausea through you as you think, again, and again, and again, of the stone shrine floor. Of Sukuna leering down at you from below those awful yawning jaws, time and time again. You might have spent cumulative years on that floor.

You might have spent years more with him.

But you lower your hands, forcing your eyes open. The brightness is still too much, as if you’re directly under the sun, or a focused fluorescent light, and you close your eyes again.

“Take it easy,” the voice says, and behind the static of your eyes, something darker shifts, as if a shadow has fallen over you. You wrench your eyes open again, just for another moment, and you see him leaning over you. It’s just a glimpse of a softer face than the tattooed one that appears in your mind. This man has lips that curve in a small, kind smile, and a band over his eyes.

“You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be alright,” he says. As you reach up to rub your eyes again, you find yourself believing his words, even as the nausea storms through you, even as something flutters, and flutters stronger, in a place lower than your belly.

You have to believe him. Because your mind is broken, and so is your heart.

chapter v

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