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alexiroflife · 1 month

Note

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

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normal-sea-urchin · 19 days

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"oh but dressing punk is so expensive" i made a wrist cuff yesterday that costed less than five dollars and the only reason it even costed that much was because i needed to buy buttons (i got a three pack for $1.27) and because i bought some studs off of studsnspikes.com, and now im gonna sew a mistfits patch i got from a friend onto a flannel i thrifted for fairly cheap.

#punk #punk rock #it's not that hard you guys #the key is to not buy overpriced fast fashion #diy or die #sea urchin with a megaphone

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year

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Dr's Assistant Danny

So, Danny has to run away from Amity after deciding to tell his parents about his powers. They acted like they accepted him, but when his back was turned they shot him with one of their Inventions and dragged him into the Lab for Study.

They think he's been taken over by a Ghost and decide to be "Surgeons" by opening him up and removing the Ghost by hand. Throughout all of this, they are just telling Danny that they are qualified doctors and can definitely do this perfectly. But they don't even use Anesthesia, and don't know the first thing about Surgery. But their delusions of being perfect Doctors have taken a hold of them, and they can't even comprehend the idea that they are doing it wrong.

After a week of "Surgeries", they mess up and forget to lock his Cell, and Danny manages to escape, hopping on a Bus headed to New Jersey.

He ends up in Gotham, hiding in an Alley to avoid Civilians and to bandage himself up. Thankfully his parents stitched him up fairly well after the last session, but he is still really hurt. And the cuffs restricting his powers don't help either.

He passes out in the Alley and wakes up in a Doctors Office. He panics, thinking that his parents found him and took him back to the Lab. Thankfully, the resident Dr rushes in to calm him down.

It's Dr Leslie Thompkins, and she really wants her patient to stop struggling thank you very much.

She manages to calm him down, and explains that she found him in the Alley, but that he was seriously injured. He was out for 4 days.

He explains what he can, that he told his parents that he had powers and that they didn't take it well. Not the Ghost thing, but he does explain that his parents could charitably be referred to as "Mad Scientists", and Dr Thompkins figures it out from there.

Since he doesn't have a place to stay, she let's him stay at her place. It's not much, but it's enough for 2 people.

After a few days, he starts helping out in the Clinic as a way to repay her.

After a few weeks, he starts taking on the bigger jobs and starts learning about medical aid

A few months in, and both Danny and Leslie realize that he has basically become her Personal Assistant. So she trains him in the legitimate way, teaching him all she can about being a Doctor and basically everything he would have learned in Medical School, which really helps with his trauma over the whole "constant unethical surgery from people who claimed to be licensed professionals" thing.

He still has those Restraining Cuffs on, they could never figure out how to take them off and they were basically unbreakable, but he was fine on his own.

And a note to add to this is that all of this is taking place in the early Years of Batman, like Years 1 and 2. So it's certainly a shock when Danny walks in for work and sees The Batman lying on a Cot.

Over the many following years, Danny gets used to his life in Gotham. He managed to contact Jazz, and his friends as well, even if they needed to keep it very secret for fear of his parents finding out.

He manages to get on friendly terms with most of the Bat Family from their many, many, many visits to the Clinic.

He never does reveal his past to them, he knows that they would never not poke their noses into it, so he tried to keep it on the down low around them. He even hid his Cuffs all these years. (He doesn't want to attract his parents attention)

But that all changed one day.

He messes up. He accidently calls Jazz outside of their scheduled safe times and his parents just so happen to be visiting her new house at the time. They pick up the call for her, and Danny, not knowing it's not Jazz on the other end, says "Hey Jazz, it's Danny. Just wanted to let you know that I'll he busy with work for a while so I won't be able to call as often".

When he gets no response, he gets concerned and asks "Jazz? You there?"

His parents immediately begin to trace the Call, but before they can get an exact location Danny wises up and hangs up. Buts it's too late, his Parents know he's in Gotham now, even if they don't know exactly where.

Danny doesn't know that they tracked him down though, but he quickly figures it out when Red Hood is rushed into the Clinic a week later after being attacked by "A big guy in an orange jumpsuit with a laser gun", who was joined by "A tiny lady in a blue jumpsuit with a baseball bat"

The Drs Fenton reached Gotham and immediately began tracking any Ecto-Signatures they could find. And Red Hood just so happened to be the closest one.

Now Danny has to find a way to deal with his parents without his powers. Since the Anti-Ecto Laws are still in effect, they aren't technically doing anything Illegal, and their Government Contracts would protect them either way.

He needs to figure out how to get rid of them. Due to the high concentration of Ectoplasm in Gotham, there are many unknowing Liminals in the City. His parents could end up attacking many innocent Civilains in search for him, maybe even subjecting them to the same things he was subjected to.

The only way he can think to do that is to give himself up.

Of course he knows Dr Leslie would disagree, but before she can stop him he sneaks out in the middle of the night, leaving a note thanking her for all that she had done for him over the years. It explains that the people who attacked Red Hood are his infamous Parents, and that they are searching for him. They could end up hurting alot of people if they stay, so he needs to nip this in the bud and is going to turn himself in to them.

She immediately takes the note to Batman.

She still vividly remembers the state she found Danny in. He still has the V-Shaped Scar on his chest from his experiences with his parents, and she'll be damned if she' going to let that happen to him again. (She kind of adopted him as her son a while ago)

She tells them everything. How she found him in the Alley, his injuries, how she nursed him back to health, his story about Meta-Hating Mad Scientist Parents, the unbreakable Cuffs he always hid, all of it.

Now it's a race to find Danny and save him from his Parents again.

#Dp x dc #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Doctors Assistant Danny #Danny as a Doctor #Dr Leslie Thompkins #Batman #Batfamily #Gotham #Danny's parents are the worst #Danny is a good friend #Red Hood is Liminal

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mncxbe · 4 months

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#SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝒄𝒘: in which reader is an erotica photographer who goes at the same uni as Denji// spicy pics, power imbalance, biting/ marking, nsfw, denji with a collar. 𝒂/𝒏: i'm experimenting a bit with different ideas and concepts

when you scouted Denji on campus a few days ago you didn't actually expect him to show up for the shoot. but there he was, awkwardly standing at your doorstep with his hands in his pockets, forcing that silly smile of his.

"hey so... i'm here for the pictures. dunno if you remember me. i'm Denji"

stepping aside, you let the blond enter your apartment. he looked around with curious eyes, taking in his surroundings: your place was neat, modern, nothing too expensive but certainly impressive for a college student. "yea, i remember you" you smiled, motioning him to take a seat on the leather couch"make yourself comfortable. i'll bring you a coffee and the consent form and walk you through the process."

Denji nodded, his gaze lingering on your frame as you made your way to the kitchen. you needn't even see him to know that he was shamelessly trying to look under your skirt. the coffee machine buzzed as you started it and you looked back at the blond.

he was staring at his shoes, mindlessly tapping his foot on your fluffy carpet and picking at his nails. cute... you thought, mentally praising yourself for scouting him.

Denji was one of those pretty guys who weren't even aware of how charming they were. with his dumb smile and scruffy hair he looked just like a puppy– and that was exactly what you needed for your photographs.

once you returned with his coffee you started explaining all the details: what the shoot entailed and when he'd receive the payment, you told him that you'd also use props (he didn't comment on that) and that the pictures would be sold to private buyers so there was no risk of them ending up online. Denji simply nodded, occasionally sipping his coffee as his eyes scanned the consent form. you were fairly sure he didn't even read half of it before signing his name in the corner.

"good, that's all, right? i'm ready to start when you are." he beamed and you walked him to your makeshift studio. it was a large room with boxes and racks filled with clothes and props- masks, leashes, cuffs, ropes– all that you needed for your shoots. Denji's face flushed at the sight and he looked at you over his shoulder. "are we gonna use all that?"

it took all your self restraint not to roll your eyes at him. did he really not pay attention to what you just told him? "no, Denji, we won't use everything. i'll figure out during the shoot what works and what doesn't, but let's take it easy. take off your shirt for now."

the blond hastly discarded his washed up t-shirt on the floor and crosses his arms over his chest. You were stunned to see how toned his body was, but it was a pleasant surprise. setting up your camera, you took a few experimental shoots, adjusting the lights.

Denji's excitement and confidence wavered when you started photographing him. he had no idea how to sit or stand or what to do with his hands and seeing you in front of him certainly didn't help his situation. to ease up the tension, he forced a smile, trying to make conversation.

"can I ask you something? i was wondering what made you choose me? i mean, i'm not the most handsome guy around."

there it was, the question you hated answering most. all guys that you work with were under the impression that there was something special about them. in a way, there was, but you never told them the truth, just like you wouldn't admit it to Denji. after all, how could you tell him that you didn't choose him for his looks, but for his attitude? he was the ideal model: compliant, a bit shy and obviously attracted to you. half hoping that you'd sleep with him after the shoot or at least let him take you out on a date, he was eager to please, to earn your praise, to give himself up on a silver platter for a pat on the head. and you could tell all that just by the way he looked at you with that imploring expression.

"i really like your hair" you said instead "and don't worry about your appearance, making you look good is my job. i work with average and make it spectacular."

your answer seemed to satisfy his curiosity for he smiled, looking down at his body "ah I see. it's good then"

from then you officially started the shoot.

as expected, Denji did everything you asked him to. he did a good job hiding his nervousness, swallowing the lump in his throat whenever you stepped closer to him or put him in different positions. the photos weren't that explicit, he'd expected way worse, so little by little, you eased him into the shoot. his tense muscles relaxed and the pictures got better. that was the key to a good shoot, making them feel comfortable enough to give you what you wanted.

"okay... these are great. you're doing a good job, Denji" you hummed and the blond's cheeks flushed red at your praise. "i wanna try something different now. get on your knees"

Denji kneeled, his gaze following you as you scrambled through a box of props. he tried not to stare at your thighs but hell, they looked so pretty in those fishnets and that tight skirt you wore hugged your curves so perfectly. he could feel his pants tighten at the sight but he quickly regained his composure when you turned to face him. you closed the distance between you two, crouching in front of him. "i want you to put this on" you smiled softly, handing him a black collar.

a trace of uncertainty flashed on his features but he eagerly complied, unbuckling the collar and wrapping it around his neck. you could feel his rapid pulse when you helped him fasten the collar, his ragged breaths hot against your cheek. "is it comfortable?"

"yea, super okay." he deadpanned, his voice a bit shaky. you attached the leash to the metal ring of the collar and wrapped it around your left palm, giving it an experimental tug. Denji huffed, a hushed mewl spilling from his lips.

"s-shit sorry for that..." he fumbled, blushing even more but before he could finish his apology you lifted your foot off the floor and placed it on his shoulder, shifting closer to him. your heel dug painfully into his skin but he couldn't care less about it. his breath grew shaky as the inner part of your thigh brushed against his cheek. "what are you doing?"

"trying out some new angles. you look good like this." you answered in a level voice, though you couldn't deny that seeing Denji like this had an effect on you. he did little to hide how much he was enjoying himself: his eyes were glazed over, droopy, a dumb smile etched onto his lips. from where you were standing you could clearly make out the outline of the bulge in his pants.

"don't you think we're a bit too close? i mean, is this professional?" he mumbled between the clicks and blinks of your camera, asking such an innocent question as if he weren't about to cum in his pants. professionalism my ass you wanted to retort but you bit your tongue, knowing that he was simply trying to make conversation and calm his nerves.

"some of the buyers like it when there's a feminine presence in the pictures too. if it helps with anything, just think of me as a prop."

"I see..." he mused, moaning softly as you gave a leash another tug, making him look up at the lens. "what other stuff do they like?"

Denji rested his head on your thigh, peering up at you. his brown eyes looked so pretty in this light and you could feel your stomach churn. you shouldn't be attracted to him, it was one of your ground rules– keep your work and private life separate. still, maybe indulging him wouldn't be that bad... it was just a simple conversation.

"all kinds of stuff" you answered, adjusting your position so that his chin rested on your navel, his head tilted up at the camera. he looked just like a puppy. "everyone is into something different, some prefer close ups, others full body shorts with light props, most of them aren't that much into the extreme stuff like full on bondage..."

your voice drifted off for a moment but Denji's gaze never left yours "anyway, as a general rule, the photos that sell the best are the expressive ones"

"expressive how?" he asked meekly and you snapped a few more pictures before answering. "I guess people want to buy emotions. they don't buy a portrait just because the model is pretty, they want to be able to feel what you feel. that's why more intimate pictures sell so well"

you took a step back and Denji quickly grasped your thigh, pulling you closer. you wanted to slap his hand away but something prevented you from doing it. he seemed... contemplative? his gaze traced your body as he caressed your skin with his thumb, toying with the mesh fabric of your stockings "so I should show emotion?" he eventually asked, letting out a dry chuckle "and here I thought i had to act like a tough guy."

without a warning, Denji hooked your leg over his shoulder and looked back at you again. "think we can take more photos like this?"

"s-sure" you said hesitantly, not knowing what he had in mind. you yelped when the blond suddenly bit down on your thigh, his sharp teeth piercing through your stockings. his tongue flicked over the indent marks as he sucked on your skin, leaving red marks behind. when he looked back at you his once shy, calculated expression was gone, replaced by a lustful one. you quickly snapped a picture and checked to see how to turned out– it was the best so far and you instantly knew it'd make good money.

"shit, Denji. keep doing that" you urged him and he obeyed, returning to kissing and licking your skin. his hands gripped your thigh, kneading your soft flesh as his mouth worked its way up to the edge of your skirt then slipped under.

you knew you should put an end to this before it got too far but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Denji's hands came to rest on your hips as he pushed up your skirt and licked a stripe of your clothed cunt, his hungry eyes locked on yours. you almost dropped the camera at the feeling, your body shuddering lightly as your fingers tangled in his hair. "fuck–" you huffed and Denji moaned into your pussy, dragging his tongue along the fabric of your panties.

"is this alright?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper and you could feel yourself getting ten times wetter. "y-yea, it's good" you babbled out, struggling to keep yourself steady on your feet. he looked up at you wish a lovesick smile as he pulled down your panties and you placed the camera back on its tripod.

the shoot was the last thing on your mind as you grinded on his face, your face scrunching up in pleasure. you got all the photos you needed anyway, you put in some good, honest work. why not reward yourself a little? pushing back the nagging thoughts in your mind telling you not to break one of the few rules you set for yourself, you allowed Denji to work you up to your high.

the rest of the evening was like a fever dream. if someone were to tell you that's you'd end up fucking Denji by the end of the night you'd laugh in their face. still, you could hardly help yourself when he was so eager to please you. so you simply got carried away and crossed some personal boundaries, which resulted in one of the best nights of your life. but you felt a bit bad for him, he was a sweet guy who deserved more than a hookup.

that's probably why you agreed to give him your number and go on a date with him before he left and offered to send him some of the pictures from last night (something that you never did since you didn't want your work to end up in some weird corner of the internet). yea, it was surely just pity, cause there was no way that you actually caught feelings for Denji after that night... right?

#rushed ending who? couldn't be me #lowkey inspired by boy parts. i finished the book the other day and i was like fuck it denji as a spicy pics model #‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚#denji x reader #denji csm #csm denji #denji #chainsaw man denji #denji smut #csm x you #csm x reader #csm #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader

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obsessive-valentine · 9 months

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Sleepy time with the yanderes

I’ve got bad writers block so have this in the mean time, sorry guys :/

Barbarian - You wake up to thunder and find yourself wrapped up in many layers of fur, more than you had fallen asleep with, you are warm and snug and cannot see even your hand infront your face, all you hear is the pitter patter of rain on the tent roof and the quiet snores of the barbarian next to you. You almost instantly fall back asleep.

Childhood Friend Fae - The room is dimly lit by the small pile of logs in the fireplace -you hear them crackle and pop- watching the dying flames dance as your eyes get heavy, you can also hear him flip a book page as he reads beside you. By the time the fireplace dies you find sleep -he blows out the candle he was using to read before joining you under the covers and snaking a arm around your waist. “Sleep well love”

Fisherman - Aged handmade knitted and patchwork blankets rub against you, laying your head on him it rises and falls with his chest and a muffled heartbeat and hand that rubs your back lulls you to sleep. Your breaths synced a long time ago.

Vampire - You keep the dim table lamp on to chase away the shadows of the unfamiliar room, looking around at the old paintings and decor, the wind whistles through the old windows and doors and the luxurious silk sheets do little to comfort you; however the almost inaudible violin he plays on the other side of the manor reaches your ears and comforts you enough to find sleep.

Platonic mad-scientist - You lay on the small leather sofa in his study, cheek squished against a pillow and fast asleep, with his back to you he intensely writes at his desk. It’s dark outside but the room is fairly lit, you still however found sleep to the sound on the pen and his muttering. He shuts his book and drops the pen, you hear the faint steps in your subconscious of him coming to take you to bed. “Let’s get you to bed”

Classic Yandere - The cold cuff stubbornly hugs your ankle a harsh contrast to the gentle fingers that trace patterns on your arm, the murmurs of the tv and it’s light dimly bouncing off the walls making the walls glow and flicker aids in your quest to find sleep. You fall asleep faster than usual due to emotional exhaustion from the long day. His eyes peel away from the film to glance at you seeing you asleep he doesn’t stop tracing patterns on your arms. “I love you”

Hockey player - He convinced you to stay over his house for the night, you both talked and laughed till you fell asleep the house now quiet aside from the sound of cars and people out late on the streets that slipped in through the window. He dreamed of where he’d take you for the first date.

Changing husband - Your stomach is full from the dinner he helped you cook and you felt content with your day, at peace, and most importantly -in love. With his arm draped over you he dozed in something similar to the sleep you experience but dreamless and light, he was almost silent aside from some shuffling letting you know he’s still very much alive. The comforting arm was all you needed to fall asleep.

#yandere oc #x reader #yandere barbarian #yandere fisherman #mad scientist #platonic yandere #yandere fae #yandere vampire #yandere hockey player #yandere changeling #Classic Yandere

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charliemwrites · 9 months

Text

Girl rage, girl rage, girl rage!!

CW for Simon being a Jerk and a Creep, mentions of violence and murder, and kidnapping.

One time in high school, there was a boy that wouldn’t leave you alone. You gave him a million chances to knock it off, growing more and more hostile, snapping your teeth. The inappropriate touches in the hall, the lewd comments at lunch breaks, the fucking pictures. Nothing salacious, just long shots of you from afar, trying to go about your day.

One day he reached for your chest and you snapped two of his fingers. His parents wailed that you ruined his rugby career. You told them he should get better at football.

When you’re annoyed, you crack the knuckles of those same fingers on your own hand.

It’s the first thing you do when you wake up in a bare, grey basement, laid on a thin cot on the ground. Pop, pop. Recalibrating your foggy mind.

You don’t quite remember how you got here. Last clear thing is the bar. Doesn’t matter how you got here though, at least for the moment - just that you are here. And you don’t want to be.

You’re handcuffed, chain looped through an exposed pipe above your head. You clink it once, twice. Decide it’s fairly sturdy and take stock of everything else.

Your stomach is a bit tight with nausea - drug induced, you figure. Ugh. And your head aches, nothing a glass of water won’t fix.

But all your clothes are intact, no ache between your thighs or burgeoning bruises on your breasts. No shoes, though. Bummer, you liked those.

You crack the knuckles on your other hand; pop, pop.

You think of the scent of cheap whiskey, shattered glass, policemen wrapping you in a shock blanket. Remember your date chocking on his own vomit in a dark alley, then someone much bigger and stronger grabbing you as you tried to leave.

Hm.

The pipes are warm. You settle back against them and wait.

—

You don’t scream when Simon enters the basement. Don’t make a single peep. You shift against the pipes, tucking your feet under you as he approaches. Your eyes are so big, rounded as you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Such a smart girl,” he coos, “staying quiet for me. Or are you just that scared?”

You blink at him, the tiniest indent dimpling your bottom lip from your teeth. He crouches down in front of you, arms balanced on his knees. You’re curled up so small. He wants to bundle you in his lap, tuck you away.

“It’s alright, little one,” he soothes. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You twitch a bit, the metal cuffs clicking together. He flicks his eyes to them, sighs.

“Those are so that you don’t do something stupid,” he explains patiently. “Like you did earlier.”

A little furrow of confusion creases your brows. He exhales, amused despite himself. So precious, his girl. Like you can’t fathom why he would be upset with you.

“Going out with a strange man.”

He tuts, feels that black rage simmering again, same he felt when he realized you and that slime were no longer at the bar.

“He almost hurt you in that alley,” he reminds, “had he not been so drunk he tripped over his own fucking feet.”

He takes a second to breathe, fingers twitching. They feel too dry, too clean. He was so worried about getting you home that he had no time to bother taking care of that scum.

“I tried to let you have your fun, baby. I really did. But I can’t — I can’t anymore. The world is far too dangerous.” He brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek, coos at the little shudder that runs through you. “And you’ve proven that you can’t take care of yourself.”

Your lips part. Shock, confusion, protest. It doesn’t matter, he’s more distracted feeling the soft give of your plush bottom lip beneath his thumb, bitten pink.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he soothes. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head to your arm. He hums.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. This is for the best, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit, blink wet eyes open. Wet your lips with the tip of your pretty pink tongue.

“What… what do I call you?” you ask, voice soft and raspy.

Oh, such a sweet thing. Such a sweet, clever girl. You’re going to be so, so good for him.

“Just Ghost for now, luv. Let me get you some water, you’ve earned it.”

—

You exhale slow and soft, counting every fourth heartbeat. If you don’t, you’ll start trying to break things. The smart money is on your bones giving before that stupid pipe. So. Breathing it is.

You’ve never felt out of control in anger. Everything is always so sharp and clear, you think and move with a precision you usually can’t coax from mind or body.

This… Ghost, though.

It was a pleasant surprise that he didn’t realize what you did in the alley. Too dark, perhaps. Too quiet. Perhaps he thought you were fleeing in fear.

It’s an advantage you can’t squander. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger. Carries himself with posture and purpose reminiscent of military or former military bearing. There’s a physicality to the way he moves that echos violence.

You know that you will only get one proper shot to escape. There is no point wasting it on shouting and cursing and snarling. Even if he did only consider it bluster and bark, it would plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Make him careful and conscious of any slip ups.

Sometimes, rabid animals appear friendly or docile. The virus gets a new victim close enough to turn and bite, spreading and infecting.

You run your tongue over your teeth, imagine the taste of blood if you’d bitten through his thumb like you wanted to. Inhale and exhale again, start the counter over.

Pause to resist another sneeze, blinking past watery eyes and sniffling it away. Christ, he couldn’t have at least cleaned the basement before chaining you up down here? Could barely focus on his ridiculous monologue through the allergies.

Not that you think you missed much; and you’re sure you’ll be hearing it again.

He’s just like every other man you’ve ever killed, you muse, settling in again. And it’ll be so, so sweet watching the blood bloom.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #rabid reader #simon ghost riley #simon x reader #kidnapper ghost #ghost x reader

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 7 months

Text

ROUND 3 MATCH 31

Karlach propaganda:

“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.”

“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”

“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”

"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"

Wyll propaganda:

“He's such a good boy. He's kind and charming and has literally given up his soul to protect people. If you romance him in game he will sweep you off your feet and spout some of the most beautiful, poetic words you have ever heard. And he makes a damn fun dance partner too.”

“He's literally the fairytale prince romance of the game. He sold his soul to save his home. His father disowned him for it and still he persisted, still he decided to devote his life to helping others. You meet him and he's teaching a bunch of kids how to defend himself. He's been tasked with killing someone who he thought was a dangerous devil, but as soon as he realizes she's innocent and he's been missed he refuses to harm her even though he KNOWS it means he'll be punished. He plans a romantic dance in the moonlight for you. He proposes to you. He spouts the most wonderful poetic compliments OFF THE CUFF. What a guy.”

#karlach #karlach cliffgate #wyll ravengard #wyll bg3 #wyllyam ravengard #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Round 3 #MDDC 2

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coffeeghoulie · 2 months

Note

Hiiii!! I love all of your fics, especially the way you write Swiss 😌😌😌

If you want to, could I ask for some fluffy Swiss content, just literally anything where he gets some kind of comfort lols!

Hell yeah, fluffy Swiss content. This does have a little bit of my personal lore for him that he doesn't go by Swiss until most of the way through his first tour, but that gets resolved fairly quickly.

About 1.4k of Aether and Mountain putting together Swiss's first summoning day present.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

The new multi-ghoul isn't as slick as he thinks he is, Aether notes. He sees the way his eyes trail when they pass by the jewelry stores on the off days spent exploring. How he locks on longingly at the delicate gold earrings and cuffs, shakes his head and moves on.

Aether pulls Mountain aside halfway through the tour, the Cardinal discussing something animatedly with the multi-ghoul.

"Do you see it, Mount?" Aether says, voice not quite a whisper. Mountain hums as he glances up from his book, shifting in his seat next to him. "Multi keeps looking like he wants them, but he never gets any."

"Right. He's not adorned, though I've seen he has the piercings for it," the earth ghoul says. He nudges one of his antlers against Aether's pronged horn. "I mean, Frit's pierced six ways to Sunday and he wears a couple rings in his braid. And if he came through a fire portal and survived, Multi might be the same way. Might be a fire ghoul thing."

"Wonder what happened to his jewelry, then," Aether says, not glancing up. From where he's talking to the Cardinal, he looks back at the two of them, gold eyes glinting. "He'd look good in it. Gold would be a good color on him."

Mountain agrees with a low hum. "I will keep it in mind. You want me to get the others involved?"

"Ooh, good idea. Keep it on the down low, though. I don't know how Multi'll react if we just. Spring this on him, you know?"

"Absolutely," Mountain agrees, turning a page with a rustle.

They spread the message to the others, Cirrus and Cumulus turning to each other with delighted grins, Rain and Dew nodding at each other, determined. It's slow going as to not arouse suspicion, but one by one, each ghoul slips aside to buy jewelry, various charms and rings, all in gold.

During that time, the multi-ghoul comes to the rest of the pack, a little skittish and completely out of character. "Figured it out," he breathes, scuffing his spat-covered shoe against the carpet of a green room in some venue. "I heard some of the humans calling me something and I want it to be mine. My name's Swiss."

Aether grins, grabs his shoulder kindly. "It's very nice to meet you, Swiss. Welcome to the pack again."

Swiss smiles, that blinding thing that has the full force of the sun behind it. The tour gets easier, now that he's coming into himself, exponentially more confident Up Top. But he still stares longingly when he thinks the rest of the ghouls aren't looking. Aether and Mountain share a knowing glance, knocking their shoulders together.

The tour ends a few days from the first anniversary of Swiss's summoning. Aether slips into each ghoul's room, cautiously collecting each offering. But even with his caution, the Cardinal pulls him aside.

"I hear you are collecting jewelry, eh?" Copia says, mismatched eyes scanning over Aether's face.

"Yes, Cardinal," Aether says, brow furrowing slightly. "For Swiss."

Copia nods and reaches into a pocket he didn't notice in his cassock. When he pulls his hand out, there's the glint of gold in the palm of his leather gloved-hand. "I would like to add to your collection. My own sort of welcome, si?"

Aether swallows, smiling. "Thank you, Cardinal."

"Ah, don't mention it," he grins, a little sheepishly. "Cannot have him think I am leaving him out, no?"

"Never," Aether says, reaching out to accept the earrings from him. As he gets a better look, his breath hitches at the sight of two delicately wrought gold grucifixes on French hooks, a tiny, sparkling ruby in the center of each inverted cross. "Cardinal. Thank you."

Aether makes sure he catches Swiss alone on his summoning day after dinner. Mountain's made a cake, and Dew had lit the candle in the center. The flame had glinted in his eyes, reflecting the glee there as he glanced throughout the pack, grinning.

Aether takes Swiss by the bicep as he heads out of the kitchen, Rain shooing him away from the dishes. He's gentle, knowing that Swiss is still a little bit jumpy and prone to snapping. But as it stands, Swiss just turns to face him with a question in his expression.

"We have something for you, Swiss," he says, voice low and even as he leads the multi ghoul to the common room. "The entire pack's been working on this for months, but don't feel that you have to accept it, okay?"

Swiss makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat as he lets himself be led by the bigger ghoul. Aether sits them both on one of the loveseats, opening the drawer on the end table and pulling out a package wrapped in tissue paper. He hands it to Swiss.

"For me?"

"Yes," Aether says. "We all pitched in for a summoning day gift."

Swiss takes a deep breath, trying to subtly rub his eye before he starts to unwrap it. The gold glints in his lap, and he covers his mouth with a big hand as he takes it in. "You- you got me-?" He can't finish his sentence.

Aether carefully sets his hand between Swiss's shoulderblades. "We noticed your piercings, and how you didn't wear any jewelry in them. The fire ghoul who used to be in our pack, Ifrit, wore a lot in the Prince's name. And since we know you came through a fire portal, we thought you might like some adornment."

"I- I'm not-" Swiss looks up, and Aether feels a horrified pit sink into his stomach at the distraught look on his face. His gold eyes are wet and red-rimmed. "I haven't- I haven't worn adornment for Him in- since my-" He cuts himself off, and Aether knows better than to push.

"You don't have to for our sake, though," Aether assures.

"No!" Swiss says, a little louder than he must mean, because he shrinks back a little bit. "I mean. I want to. Makes me a part of the pack officially. And if I'm serving Him, I may as well look it."

Aether smiles kindly, hand rubbing a small circle over his spine. "May I?" Aether asks, reaching for the pile of jewelry in his lap. Swiss nods and passes it over before sliding off of the loveseat. He sits himself between Aether's spread thighs.

He winds a cuff decorated like sprawling leaves and vines around one of his locs, threads a golden cloud charm through the end of another. A pair of studs shaped like suns go through a set of piercings in his cartilage, and the teardrop shaped ones go through the holes next to them. Aether shows him each piece, letting him decide if and where he wants it. Slowly, Aether adorns him with every piece of jewelry the pack had squirreled away, hoops and studs and dangling charms in elemental symbols and sigils, all glinting gold against his warm gray skin and dark hair.

All that's left are the grucifixes, and Aether gently shows them to Swiss, the inset rubies glinting in the warm lamplight. There's a long silence, and Aether worries that he might have offended him in some way.

"Yes," Swiss breathes. He tenses a moment before craning his neck to look up at Aether over his shoulder. "Actually, will you let me put them in?"

"Of course." He carefully puts the earrings into Swiss's palm. Aether pretends he can't hear as Swiss starts to whisper to himself as he threads each earring into the lowest piercing on each lobe. Tone quiet, reverent. His own soft prayer to the Prince Below.

It takes a moment, but Swiss eventually takes a deep breath and looks up. "Show me what it looks like?" he asks hopefully.

Aether stands and pulls Swiss to his feet. The two of them head to one of their bathrooms, and Swiss grins in the mirror over the sink. Aether's only known him for a year, and this is the first time he's seen him wearing jewelry, but he knows.

Aether smiles back at him. Swiss looks more like himself than he ever has.

#scheduled for when i'm out of town #i've been working a lot on my swiss lore. there's going to be a full length fic about it but idk when that will be done #but gold is his color and i will die on that hill #dot's writing #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul

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ink-splotch · 1 year

Note

I ran across your reply in a post about Pippin’s version of Edge of Night, about how it was originally a happy song and he changed the lyrics and key to be sadder. Could you explain where he changed the lyrics? I can find plenty of sources for the changed version, but not for the original. Thanks!

Sure thing! In the book, the full version of the song goes like this. Frodo and his buds sing it as they hike across the Shire, before any of the bad stuff has really gone down at all:

Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet, Still round the corner we may meet A sudden tree or standing stone That none have seen but we alone. Tree and flower and leaf and grass, Let them pass! Let them pass! Hill and water under sky, Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though we pass them by today, Tomorrow we may come this way And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun. Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe, Let them go! Let them go! Sand and stone and pool and dell, Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back to home and bed. Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade! Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, And then to bed! And then to bed!

In Denethor's hall, in the movie, Pippin sings an adaption of that song. In Doylian terms here, Peter Jackson chose to change the words and tone; in Watsonian terms, which I much prefer in this case, Pippin took this fairly cheerful walking song that Denethor demanded of him and turns it into something befitting the world that Denethor is creating, allowing, and abetting in his realm:

Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadow to the edge of night Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, All shall fade, all shall fade.

Pippin first removes the section "then world behind and home ahead/we'll wander back to home and bed," which denies Denethor the comfortable hope and domestic happy ending he was demanding of the hobbit.

Then, with that removal, the lines of "all shall fade, all shall fade" do a very changed duty in Denethor's hall than the "away shall fade! away shall fade!" in the original. Instead of mist and shade fading, pushed back by fire and bread, by the comforts of home and a warm bed, the rendition in Denethor's hall rings melancholy and tragic-- the fading of good things, the fading of life, of homes and paths and light, of good men like Faramir.

Knowing the original, it's made all the more rich in meaning by Denethor crunching through his bread and tomatoes, at home in the seat of his power. This place, its fire and lamps, its meat and bread, its good men (cut to Faramir riding toward certain doom) -- they will fade under the coming shadow (Pippin even exchanges "twilight" for "shadow" in his off-cuff rewrite). Pippin is mourning them and trying to rekindle some of that sorrow and that horror in Denethor's heart.

He's been ordered to sing the cheery songs of his people to please the cold echoing hall of his freezing-hearted, fallen man -- and so he does, and he makes the song instead about the foregone fading of Denethor's house. Love it! A+ Peregrin Took.

#lotr #pippin #peregrine took

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squadmuse · 4 months

Text

NSFW ALPHABET

THE LUKE ALVEZ EDITION

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Luke is very caring and attentive after sex, sure to ask if you are okay and if you’re sore. Bubble baths and soapy showers after sex always happen with Luke. If you’re hungry, then he’ll either make you a small meal or order something in.

B - Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s body)

Luke loves his mouth and his upper arms, knowing how much they turn you on. His tongue is quite devilish and the dirtiest of words drip from his plush lips. On you, Luke loves your ass and breasts as he can’t choose. He loves holding and grabbing them as he fucks you in any position.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum basically…)

Luke loves cumming in your mouth, and on your face too. When you’re in a serious long term relationship however, Luke stops wearing a condom and comes to love cumming inside your pussy.

D - Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Luke loves hotel sex with you and only you. It’s not that he is particularly into exhibitionism but the added edge of potentially being caught & other guests hearing gets him so hard.

E - Experience (how experienced are they, do they know what they are doing?)

Luke isn’t as experienced as many think he is, but he certainly knows what he is doing and does it well. He’s great at oral sex too.

F - Favourite Position (again, pretty self explanatory…)

Luke knows it’s quite vanilla to some, but he adores missionary with you and getting to see your face & all your expressions.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)

Luke has a wicked sense of humour and sometimes he says something in bed that has the two of you laughing out loud. However he is also very serious and can be a man on a mission pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body, especially if he’s been away from you too long.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Luke is fairly groomed, he knows he has thick dark locks up top and so keeps on top of it down below too.

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Are they romantic?)

Luke is so very romantic, very doting and sweet. He loves being intimate with you in various ways, and making you feel like a goddess is his duty.

J - Jack Off (masturbation…)

It usually happens when he’s away on a case, or when Luke knows you’re not feeling up for sex due to your period or something and he doesn’t want to bother you - so it usually happens in the shower under hot steamy water. However when you walked in on him one time in the en-suite, you made him cum so quickly as you jacked him off and muttering the dirtiest things he’s ever heard.

K - Kink (what are their kink/s?)

Exhibitionism (to an extent), loves tying you up with his cuffs, ties etc. and Luke Alvez lives for you in itty bitty black lace lingerie (and if you do a striptease or lap dance to him, he’s putty in your hands)

L - Location (where are their favourite places to do the do?)

Shower sex, bedroom & living room, kitchen, hotel room & his car (when not anywhere too public)

M - Motivation (what turns them on, what gets them going?)

Luke gets so hard seeing you in black lace lingerie, pretty dresses and when you’re sticking up for yourself. Also whenever you speak dirty or tease him too. Luke also loves seeing you with Roxy, and when you come home after a run with her & you’re all sweaty, happy and exhilarated? Man is he wanting you.

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs?)

Luke won’t do anything too public, he also won’t hurt you or ever degrade you. He’s seen some awful sights in his career and it’s just something he’s unable to do. He’ll also never ever want to choke or do somnophilia with you.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc)

Oh Luke is so good at giving oral and always does it as foreplay before he fucks you. He is so attentive to your body and picks up each & every cue or clue your body gives him. But he also loves it so much when you do it back to him, feeling you suck him off so so well that it has him trying so hard to not cum right away.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough, soft and sensual?)

Luke is a sensual guy, he likes to have a passionate love life with you and his pace ruins you whatever way he does it. However again due to his work & what he sees, Luke can be extremely tender and soft as he wants to be more, do more than just make love. Drunk sex with Luke is usually a lot more fast & rough, almost hazardous and frantic.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often etc.)

Luke loves quickies with you, and sometimes with how unpredictable his hours are, it can be all he can give you for a week or more. So while he enjoys them because they’re with you, he isn’t that big a fan of them at the same time and much prefers to not.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Luke Alvez aka Adrenaline Junkie — he loves that rush that risky sex gives him. He won’t do anything too risky however as he’s a government official with the FBI. Experimentation happens more as your relationship develops in the long term.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

Oh Luke has an absolutely phenomenal stamina and lasts a lot of rounds, and you are absolutely ruined when he’s finally sated. He’s very fit and active, and his refractory period surprisingly quick too.

T - Toys (do they own toys, do they use toys? on a partner or themselves?)

Luke isn’t that interested in toys other than what he & you use to tie each other up with; his cuffs, ropes, his ties etc. but he enjoys the rare time that he gets to use a vibrator on you and when you call him when he’s in his hotel room, that telltale buzz gets him so hard.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he is such a tease, Luke loves doing it to you. But the thing is that he’s such a sweetheart and soft at heart that he caves as soon as he sees you squirming and wanting.

V - Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make etc?)

Luke is very loud, especially at home. He’s quieter when you’re in a hotel room or vacation cabin, not wanting to actually get caught or reprimanded. At the same time however, Luke is able to whisper the hottest sounds that have you so wet.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Luke is surprised to find out that he is very interested in knocking you up and getting him pregnant with his babies, and that breeding kink & the resulting pregnancy sex gets him raring to go so fast that he’s nervous about telling you.

X - X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very thick and a delicious length also, you’re not disappointed one bit.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Luke has a high sex drive but he is able to control it and isn’t an addict or pest.

Z - Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

Luke spoons you afterwards or has you snuggled against him with your head on his chest and he enjoys watching you drift off to sleep and be so vulnerable with him. He hates falling asleep without you and always kisses your forehead before falling asleep himself.

#luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez alphabet #luke alvez smut #criminal minds #adam rodriguez

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year

Note

simon and johnny needing to lay low after the landlord visit taking you to a little cabin they've rented out in the middle of nowhere, for the sole purpose of allowing you to 'escape' just so they can have the fun of hunting you down on dirtbikes with nets and rope and little (nonlethal but still fairly nasty) traps they'd already left in the woods for you

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my g-

3.5k words under the cut. cw for noncon and primal kink. bit of fear play. basically everything in the ask is in the drabble lol

You're scared out of your mind when they first tell you they're leaving for the weekend and taking you with them. You've got this fear that maybe they're going to kill you. They balk if you dare ask, get all comforting and loving and tell you how they'd rather slit their own wrists than ever kill you. Can't even fathom it.

But still... you don't fully trust them. Not after your most recent escape attempt resulted in your harshest punishment yet.

You especially don't trust that they're tying you up for the trip. Simon stands in front of you with a pair of ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and a little length of chain, Johnny bouncing around behind him as he stuffs clothes into duffel bags.

"If you can't handle sitting in the backseat," Simon starts. "We'll tie you up and leave you in the trunk. That what you want?"

The answer is obvious. At least they give you actual clothes to wear in the car - it's the little things that make life bearable these days.

You can't lift your hands to try and wave for help in the car. The way you're chained leaves you with an awkward hunch in your back, makes you cranky when you can't find a way to get comfortable even after you put your feet on the seats. The way Johnny shouts along to half of the songs that come on the radio doesn't help your mood.

(They play one of your favorites at one point, and you can't help but sing along. Simon turns the volume up, and you get louder too, thinking they can't fully hear you. Johnny and Simon just smile at each other.)

The cabin they bring you to isn't very large. It's got an open floor plan, kitchen, living room, dining table, and massive king sized bed all in just one room. The only doors are to the pantry, a closet, and a bathroom.

They let you get settled a bit, Simon flopping onto the couch and watching you closely as Johnny brings in your luggage from the car and you poke around a bit. They take off all your restraints (except for the fucking collar, which hasn't left your throat since they put it there), tell you "who could help you this far out?" and you get a little sulky about it.

You start plotting your escape almost immediately.

They fuck you in the afternoon. Johnny bending you over the arm of the sofa, Simon pulling his cock out and guiding your head to it where he sits. You choke, nearly fucking suffocate on his cock when Johnny pulls out and leaves you limp with no support on the couch.

You don't stand on your own once they've both finished, cheek resting on Simon's thigh and just trying to catch your breath before you build your walls back up. Before you can move, Johnny's back behind you, one hand on the small of your back and the other stroking your ass.

You're still a little hazy in your head, but the sudden slick finger sliding right into your ass with no warning has you jolting up from the couch, a high yelp coming from your throat as you struggle against Johnny's hand.

"Hush, bonnie," he laughs. "Just givin' you yer tail."

You hate the fucking tail. It's attached to a butt plug that always makes you walk just a little oddly, the fucking fur on it is nearly the same shade as your hair, and half the time when they make you wear it they want you to crawl after them.

So you struggle a little more, especially as a second finger slips into your ass soon after the first. "Calm down, love," Simon rumbles, one hand lifting to pet your head. "You don't like your tail? Hm? Don't like bein' reminded you're just a little pet for us?"

"Fucking-" you grunt, little teeth bared at him as you glare and lean away. "Fucking bastard."

"Och," Johnny scolds, and you feel him pull out only to line cold plastic up at your entrance. "That's not very bonnie. You itchin' for a punishment today? Want Simon to be a little mean to you?"

"Just have to ask, pet," Simon smirks down at you, giving you a firm pat on your head before going back to his stroking. "Ask nicely and we'll give ya anythin' you want. Isn't that right, Johnny?"

"Hmmm," he hums from behind you, pushing and pulling just the tip of the plug in and out of your ass to stretch you more. "Anythin', lovie."

You grunt a little as he starts to slide it into you. "Okay," you hiss. "I want to fucking leave. I don't want to wear a fucking tail."

"That wasn't asking very nicely, was it?" Simon would sneer down at you a bit, mean smirk on his face as he shakes your head no for you, ignores your huffing breaths from Johnny's actions.

"Besides," Johnny says from behind you. "You do want to wear your tail. I can see your pussy droolin', lassie. No point in tryin' to hide it."

"That's-" you interrupt yourself with a little grunt when the tail sinks fully inside of you. "That's because we just fucked you idiot-"

A little tap to your face, Simon's other hand holding you still by the hair. "Watch it," he rumbles, eyes serious as he stares down at you. "Need me to clean out your mouth for you?"

Fuck no. 'Clean out your mouth' is almost always code for 'have you suck Simon's cock for fucking hours, even if he's soft as a feather'. You hate having to stay between his knees so long, just a warm mouth for him to soak in, even less than the pet they're always telling you you are.

You shake your head, glaring mutinously up at him.

He shakes you by your hair a bit. "What was that?"

"No," you force through gritted teeth, squirming a bit from his tight grip on your chin.

"Try again."

You growl a little, get a tiny smirk from Simon for it which just pisses you off more. "No, sir."

"Good girl," he purrs, hand going soft to stroke through your hair, all anger melted from his face. "Now, what was the other thing you wanted?"

"To fucking leave," Johnny says from behind you, grin audible in his tone. You can feel one hand playing with the tail, probably batting it back and forth judging by the way you feel the fur brush against your thighs, his other hand stroking up and down your back.

"That's right," Simon says. He brings the hand petting you down to your neck, jerking you out of the softness you'd briefly fallen back into as he raises your head towards him. "Well. Maybe we could let you try, huh?"

That gets you attention, has you stiffening up and leaning closer to him. "Wha- really?" you choke out, eyes wide as you stare up into his face.

"Sure," he says, smile growing on his lips at your eagerness. "How about this - you try and run, and if we can't catch you in an hour, we get to keep you. No more escape attempts."

You scowl, sinking away a bit. "Where the hell would I run in here?"

Johnny barks a laugh from behind you, leaning over your back and resting his chin on your shoulder. "Out there, bonnie. You'd be runnin' through the woods. Already got your tail, huh? Could be our little prey, runnin' from the big scary predators." You feel his dick harden against your thigh and he bites your shoulder blade, a groan rumbling from his mouth.

"How do I-" you can't help a little moan as Johnny's hips start rocking against yours, his hand slipping to rub at your used cunt. "How do I know - shit, Johnny - how do I know you'll let me go?"

"You don't," is the answer you get from Simon, a little whine creeping from your throat when two fingers sink into your pussy as a thumb works at your clit. "You'd have to trust us. But we'd keep our word. Haven't broken it with you yet."

It's a little hard to think with everything running through your head, but you know he's right. You might hate them, hate that they're keeping you, hate the way they make your body feel, but neither of them has lied to you yet. Even psychos seem to have some moral standards.

"Go ahead, Johnny," Simon grunts from above you when you go long enough without responding. "Fuck her again. Then we'll see how far she can run, hm?"

About three hours and a few more rounds later you stand on the back porch, naked except for a pair of Johnny's boots tied as tightly as you could get them (and with a pair of socks tucked into the tips. They're still a little loose, but better than nothing you suppose.)

"One hour," Simon says, stepping towards you with a little pair of ears in his hand. They match the tail and are stuck on a headband the same shade as your hair. You scowl when you see them, but don't say anything as he continues to speak and puts them on your head. "Run, or hide, but don't come back to the cabin. We catch you, you're ours, no more running away." He steps back a moment, stares deep into your eyes, then smirks. "No taking off the ears or out the tail. How else will we recognize the animal we're hunting?"

You go red at that, scoff and roll your eyes to try and cover it up. Johnny laughs, so you figure it doesn't work.

"Alright, lass," he says, feral grin on his lips as he holds up a little stopwatch with a one hour timer set. "On the count of three. One... two... three!"

You're off like a shot, ignoring the laughter behind you when you nearly trip down the steps onto the dirt. You know they don't think you can do this, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

— — — — —

You start to get worried when the sun sets. You doubt it's been more than ten minutes, and as the darkness creeps in it occurs to you that the forest will be pitch black once night fully falls.

You ran for as long as you could before slowing to catch your breath. You haven't heard or seen either of your hunters, but you know they're out there somewhere. You feel acutely aware of their presence in a way you never have before. It leaves your skin crawling, has you shooting looks over your shoulder every other step you take.

But you can’t stop now. So you slow down when you need to, flinch at the way the tree branches and bushes scratch at your naked skin, and pray to God you’ve got enough of a headstart to keep you safe.

You hear the shouts begin just after the sun has fully set.

The first one - a loud and echoing “Bonnie!” that you recognize as being from Johnny - has you yelping, nearly jumping out of your skin. You start running again before you even realize what’s happening, then keep running when you realize you’ve essentially lit a beacon directly to your location.

He calls out to you several times.

“Where you at, lassie?”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Aren’t you cold? Don’t you want to come back home with us?”

“We’re going to find you!”

“I can smell your fear, lovie, I know you’re nearby!”

The longer sentences are the ones that scare you, because it means he’s close enough for you to hear every word he’s saying. You worry he might be watching, because every time you start to slow down again he shouts, forces you back into high gear and gets you stumbling again.

You sort of stumble into a clearing eventually, panting and going completely still as you realize how exposed you are. You can’t help but shiver a little, tucking your hands close to your body and hunching your shoulders as you step forward.

And then, from the treeline in front of you, out steps Simon.

In his fucking mask. The one that always gets your heart racing when you see it, gets you a little wet beneath the thighs no matter how much you try to deny is.

He tilts his head a little as the moonlight hits him, frozen completely in front of you. You find yourself unable to move as he strolls lazily towards you, just stock still and incapable of thinking anything but threat.

When he’s about a foot away he stops, leans forward so that mask is right in front of your face and you can see the whites of his eyes.

You don’t see the mask move, just hear one word.

“Run.”

You do. You scramble back, fall on your ass and stand as quickly as possible to try and get away. You’re already shouting, some primal instinct deep in your head nothing but flight.

You hardly make it five steps, tackled to the ground with what must be the full weight of Simon’s body. You cry out as you’re binned, hands and knees digging into sharp sticks and pebbles. You struggle, yelping and whining as you desperately try to buck him off.

He only laughs, the sound echoing and a little psychotic. One of his hands locks itself in your hand, jerks you back and forces your head up to the sky, the other grabs on your tail and gives you just enough of a tug to whimper and go a little weak in the elbows.

“Pretty little prey,” he’d purr, hunching over to whisper in your ear and grinding his clothed erection over your ass. “Hardly even put up a fight. Thought you wanted to get away, huh?”

“I-I do!” You choke out, head shaking where he still holds you tight.

“You do?” His tone is condescending, so fucking mean, but you’re lost in a haze of instincts and hardly notice. “Okay, baby. Try again.”

And then- and then you’re free.

You try and get to your legs, stumble a little before you can fully get your feet beneath you and fall again.

There’s a laugh from behind you, and you try again.

This time you get a few steps. But he doesn’t even let you get out of the clearing before he’s gripping you by the neck, throws you onto the ground and plants a heavy boot in the center of your back, pushes down and doesn’t even let you get to your hands and knees.

“That all you got?” He’d grunt, crouching down and putting more weight on you in the process. “Pathetic little thing. You want to keep trying, or you ready to swallow your pride?”

You sob at that, fingers clutching desperately at the dirt. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod viciously. “Let me- let me go! I’ll get away, you won’t catch me next time!”

You both know you’re lying. So when the weight disappears from your back, when you blink teary eyes open and see him slowly backing away, you’re nothing short of astounded.

“Sure, sweetheart. Third time’s the charm, yeah? I’ll even give you a ten second head start. Ten…”

You’re on your feet at eight, in the forest again at seven. You hear his voice in your head no matter how far you run.

It’s minutes, hours later when you’re tackled to the ground again.

This time you go rolling, the man on top of you snarling viciously as he lets your momentum carry you for several turns. He gets you on your back, collars a hand around your throat and snarls and he bares his teeth in your face.

Johnny looks rabid. His mohawk is rarely brushed, but you’ve never seen it as wild as it is now. He’s naked, unlike Simon, and there’s an eagerness in his eyes you’ve never seen before - not even the night you’d met Simon.

“Fucking got you,” he’d snap, spittle flying from his lips as he squeezes your throat. You try to struggle, but he’s so big that he doesn’t have to restrain you anywhere else. You can’t get away from him.

You cry out at the realization, but refuse to stop struggling. You.. you can’t. It’s like as soon as you’re caught, as soon as flight is no longer an option, your brain doesn’t let you do anything but fight.

Still, it takes no effort at all for Johnny to flip you onto your stomach. He doesn’t even both to prop your hips up, just forces your legs to spread with his knees and thrusts balls deep before you can even lift your head.

You scream. You were a little wet, but not enough to take him comfortably in one go. Your shout is all animal, the sound of something conquered calling out it’s own defeat.

Johnny’s responding sound is nearly a howl, head thrown toward the sky as he immediately starts pounding your pussy. One hand pushes down on the small of your back, keeps you down and still, the other is in your hair forcing your face into the dirt. You force your forehead lower just so you don’t keep banging your head as he fucks you.

Neither of you manages words, just shouts and yelps and whines and moans. There’s a point where you can turn your head, when you nearly bust your lip open on your teeth, and you spot Simon. He’s nearly six feet away, a massive figure cloaked in black - you can only see him because of the stark white of the skull mask against the dark backdrop.

Johnny’s rough fucking feels like it’s endless. You nearly think you’ll die, feel like you’re split down the middle and surely it’s the blood that’s making his thrusts so slick?

He finishes without you, buries himself to the hilt and bite where your shoulder and neck meet. You scream a little at the horrible sting, scream even more when he bites down harder, about lose your mind when you feel his teeth puncture skin.

He pulls out moments later, leaves you cold and alone on the ground as he straightens up and lops away, dropping flat on his ass at the base of a tree and resting his head back to catch his breath.

You still haven’t caught yours when you’re flipped onto your back.

It’s Simon this time, fully clothed and blocking your view of the stars with his mask. He’s silent, ignores your incomprehensible whines and pulls his cock out of his pants, grabs you under both knees, hooks them around his waist, and starts thrusting into you.

Your round with Simon is… more. He’s slower, yes, but he also doesn’t look away from you. His eyes never leave yours, and any time your eyes start to slip shut he thrusts right up into your cervix until they flicker wide open again. You can see his eyes, but that’s it. You can’t hear anything but the sound of your own fucking, can’t even hear his breathing over the blood rushing through your ears and your own panting.

If Johnny’s fucking was endless, Simon’s is an eternity. You think you might die, think you might just pass out and never wake up, come to in the afterlife to the fucking delicious slide of Simon’s cock still working it’s way in and out of your sore cunt.

He comes eventually. You don’t.

He stands above you when he pulls out, waits for you to finally start to move before you speak.

You’re getting to your knees, one foot lifting to push yourself up, when his boot lands on the knee still folded beneath you.

“No,” he says. “You’ll crawl behind us. Animals don’t walk on two legs.”

You don’t have the energy to do more than let out a pathetic whine.

Johnny leads the three of you back, Simon behind you as you crawl after him. When you slow down too much, he nudges you with his boot until you move again.

They don’t let you wash off in the cabin. Instead, SImon brings out a fucking hose, and they spray you down with cold water. You can only kneel there miserably, head ducked and eyes squeezed shut against the worst of it.

You have to crawl up the steps and into the house, but that’s where the game ends.

Simon scoops you up instantly, has you placed on the couch while he quickly tugs off your boots before wrapping you up in a towel that had been laid in front of the fire. He dries you hair quickly, then wraps himself around you and sits in front of the hearth.

Johnny joins you minutes later, body washed off and wearing a pair of boxers. He sits next to you two, and for once he doesn’t try and touch you.

You can’t speak for the rest of the night.

#asks and answers #bo writes #goodnight freaks 🫡#dlmliyh #ghoap x reader smut

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deconstructthesoup · 1 month

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Thoughts on a Leverage-Dead Boy Detectives crossover that I'll probably never officially write but still:

-The Leverage crew (Redemption timeline because it lines up with the DBD show, but Hardison's there in person) is staying in London for a little while, mainly because Sophie's trying her best to reconnect with Astrid again

-They get hired by a woman who says that her younger sister, who was a student at St. Hillarion's (which went co-ed sometime in the 90's), died mysteriously and she's absolutely sure that the school covered up the circumstances

-And guess what? Meanwhile, the DBD crew's been hired by the ghost of the girl who died, and while it is a pretty personal case for Edwin and Charles, they agree that not solving the case would be a disservice to themselves

-So, the two teams make gameplans---Hardison, Eliot, and Parker infiltrate the school as teachers (Breanna is Hardison's TA, much to her irritation) while Sophie and Harry act as shady lawyers who tell the headmaster that they're very good at burying secrets; and Crystal and Niko get enrolled as exchange students while Jenny gets a position in the cooking staff (the Night Nurse absolutely refuses to actively take part in the case-solving, and of course Edwin and Charles don't need aliases)

-However, things start to go south for both teams pretty quick

-For starters, Sophie and Harry know Crystal, at least by way of her parents---Sophie attempted to pull a con on Maddy back in the day, failed, and convinced her to con her rival instead, and Harry helped the Surname-von Hoverkrafts out of some legal trouble when they still lived in the States

-Not to mention, Breanna's very tapped into the social media circuit, and she knows that a) Crystal used to be the epitome of the entitled rich showbiz kid, b) that she dated some guy named David and then went completely off-grid for weeks, and c) she's suddenly had a complete personality and lifestyle change

-And on the flip side of things, Charles is a little too interested in the weirdly high-tech things that the new computer science teacher and his TA have hanging around, which means that Breanna and Hardison are convinced that someone is sabotaging them when it's really just Charles accidentally breaking their gadgets

-This comes to a head when the OT3's having a lunch break on the grounds, Parker points out Niko, and Hardison and Eliot immediately begin making fun of the stuffy-looking kid in a bow tie that she's talking to... and when Breanna comes up with her sandwich in hand, she's incredibly confused, because all she sees is Niko talking to herself

-So, naturally, Hardison, Parker, and Eliot wind up scouring the school records until they eventually find a boy who matches Edwin's description... who, of course, vanished mysteriously over a century ago, along with five or six of his classmates

-Hardison talks Eliot and Parker into doing a stakeout of the computer lab, and they wind up catching Charles in his "fiddling with electronics" act---and, well, it turns out that a) Eliot can beat up a ghost, even one who's a fairly decent fighter himself, and b) Parker carries a pair of iron cuffs with her (why? she's Parker, next question)

-There's a little interrogation action between Charles and the Leverage crew... except, of course, Breanna and Harry still can't see him, and they don't understand why all of these legendary thieves are yelling at an empty chair

-And then the electricity cuts out and everyone hears whispers

-And suddenly someone puts their hands on Hardison's shoulder and he's thrust back into that time with the coffin

-And Eliot turns around and sees the mean goth from the kitchens pointing a knife at him, and the two of them wind up facing off

-Everyone else is stuck in a full-ass vengeful haunting, but Parker notices Crystal holding onto Hardison, Niko sneaking over to Charles, and Edwin standing at the center of the room with his eyes glowing and a hellish aura radiating off of him

-Parker does the sensible thing and, after getting Sophie to pull Crystal off of the boys, takes the cuffs off of Charles's hands

-The haunting immediately stops, Breanna and Harry can definitely see Edwin and Charles... and both teams have some explaining to do

-Once they figure out that they're here for the same reason, Niko's the first to suggest that they work together

-There's a lot of arguing over that, but the general consensus is that they're after the same goal, they're on the same side, and clearly if they don't actively work together, things are gonna go sideways

-Also, once they start talking, Breanna is very psyched to know everything about the supernatural side of things, and Parker decides that she's going to make Niko her apprentice (mostly because they have been getting along in the girl's gym class---and yes, St. Hillarion's does have different gym classes for boys and girls, despite it being co-ed now)

-Once they begin comparing notes, Charles mentions that he recognizes the headmaster---it's the same one he had when he was a student, and the man was already ancient then

-And... yep, turns out that the headmaster is a supernatural entity that's been doing some seriously messed-up shit in order to stay alive

-The two teams settle on a double-pronged attack---some of them will figure out how to get rid of the headmaster for good, while the others will figure out a way to expose the school's habit of covering up hate crimes

-I don't know how it finishes, but... uh, yeah, if anybody wants to take a crack at this, in fic form or comic form, you're free to

(Also, Eliot pretty much adopts Edwin and Charles the second he learns how messed up their lives were, there's also a few schemes from Niko, Crystal, and Breanna to get Payneland together, and Sophie somehow finds out Nate's afterlife placement and is beyond relieved to find out that he's living his afterlife in peace after all)

#that is unless the plot bunny turns out to be too enticing and i'm forced to chase it into oblivion #i can't keep doing this to myself #dead boy detectives #leverage #leverage: redemption #sophie devereaux #harry wilson #alec hardison #eliot spencer #parker leverage #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #jenny green #leverage ot3 #payneland

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uss-edsall · 1 month

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Band of Brothers and the Holocaust

Speaking as someone who has studied the Shoah, but her focus was on what Allied soldiers did when they discovered a concentration camp? Band of Brothers' Why We Fight is the most accurate portrayal of liberating a concentration camp in any WWII media.

It has every single element of what happened, while also conveying the human experience of the tragedy.

In the following post I am going to write out the general nature of what happened when an Allied unit found a concentration camp. Interspersed will be dialogue in indents and italics direct from Band of Brothers.

The war is coming to a close. The soldiers are looking forward to going home. The mood is fairly upbeat, morale is high. There's been rumours that some bad stuff's been happening, it's known Jews and others were being persecuted, but it's not something on the mind of the average American or British enlisted soldier. Your farmboys and streetrats want to go home. They want mom's food, dad's firm hand, to play with their kid they haven't seen in three years - six if they're British.

Then...

It sure is quiet. He is right, fellas.

They find it.

A camp situated far from anywhere else. A camp in a wholly deforested area. A camp where no birds sing, no animals make noise. Ashy smoke on the horizon. Skeletal figures in striped clothes, staring at them, averting their eyes like beaten dogs. The smoke of burning buildings, dead bodies just laying about.

Major Winters! Uh, we found something. We're out on patrol and uh, we came across this. What, what, what, what? Frank, Frank, what is it? I don't know sir. I don't know.

The reaction, of course, is sheer horror. The deaths these men have seen were almost all in combat. This is not combat. They don't have a word for it. This is genocide, but they don't know that word. Genocide as a term has not been invented yet. It will be specifically to describe what they are now bearing witness to.

Look at their arms. Like cattle. Goddamn.

These soldiers don't know what to do. They've never seen anything like this before and there are no contingencies. But they are men of action. Trained to act no matter what. After the initial shock, after the initial arrival, they spring into motion. These prisoners are starving, obviously. They need food, they need water, they need medical attention. The soldiers distribute what they've got on them, try to help where they can, how little they can.

All right, boys. These people need care. Give them water and any spare rations you might have. Grab me some blankets, quick.

They find and procure more food and bring it to the camps.

Let's go, let's pick up the pace, come on! Sergeant Martin, get whatever we can fit on the deuce and a half.

Their desire to help, to save, it kills people. Refeeding syndrome - the severely malnourished, the starving, feeding them rations meant to keep a man at the top of his physical fitness going every day, the rich bread and cheese of a regular bakery, it overwhelms the stomach. Survivors on the day of liberation do not survive it - dead from the actions of their saviours. This is something Band of Brothers does not, perhaps thankfully, depict on the big screen - instead speaking of it.

Proper medical authorities arrive. They are the men who stop the haphazard nature of the liberators' actions, creating systems. They've never seen anything like this either. They're also working off the cuff - but they do know what they're doing, much better than your average kid from Brooklyn.

We need to stop giving these men food right now. They're starving. If we give them too much to eat too quickly, they'll eat themselves to death.

These medical authorities come with the establishment of proper authority in the region. And it's quickly determined there's nowhere to take these survivors who suffered so grievously. There's no place big enough, centralised enough to keep them safe from others, to keep them in one place to be properly fed and properly treated. No place, except...

We need to keep them in the camp til we can find a place for 'em. You want us to lock these people back up?! We got no choice, Nix. Otherwise they might scatter. We need to keep them centralized so we can supervise their food intake and medical treatment. So, until we find some place better...

The soldiers who have come to the rescue must force the liberated back into the camps. Back into the sight of all their horrors that they want to leave so badly. They have to, to help them get what they need.

The initial forces have to move on. The war is still continuing. They are combat troops, the spearhead of their respective frontline. They aren't guards, they aren't doctors. Their expertise lies in killing, not saving. Yet they tried to do so, to save those they could. When confronted with that, who couldn't?

Tenth Armored are gonna supervise clean-up. What about us? We head out for, uh... Thailheim, Thalheim, tomorrow.

The morale of the men has been shattered, having become first-hand witnesses to the Holocaust. So too, however, has their resolve to see this thing through been hardened, sharpened into a blade that will cut out the heart of fascism in Germany. They react with anger, enraged at the fact that German civilians insist they did not do it.

I said shut up, you Nazi fuck! You're not a Nazi? My mistake, you fat fucking prick. How about a human being? Are you one of those? Or are you gonna tell me that you never smelled the fucking stench?

Martial law is enacted. Commanders give orders to force the populations of nearby villages, towns, cities, to come out in their Sunday best. Everybody who can walk must come - come to the camp, come to see the horrors that they had ignored. Imprint the memory in their brains and know they let this happen. Then, with their own hands, pick up the bodies and bury them. This is what Nixon sees when he returns to the camp after Easy moved on - the 10th Armored enforcing it.

People of Ludswiglust were made to bury the bodies on the palace grounds of the Archduke of Mecklenburg, for example. At Ohrdruf, Colonel Hayden Sears yelled at his soldiers herding German civilians around a makeshift crematorium. "Make them look at the hooked poles for turning over the roasted bodies. Make them stand closer and look!" This is a term used by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum as Forced Concentration. It was a policy, at first made by battlefield commanders and then moving up the ranks. No person old enough to comprehend it was allowed to live in ignorance.

Something not depicted in episode nine but is depicted in episode ten are reprisals.

Some troops reacted to the devastation with bloodlust, a vindictive need to take matters into their own hands. Historian Max Hastings wrote of a British tank commander who drove into the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, pulled out a pistol, shot several guards and drove away. At Dachau, soldiers of the 157th Infantry Regiment machinegunned between 35-50 SS camp guards in a spontaneous reprisal. Heinrich Wicker, the commandant of Dachau, was summarily executed. An official investigation concluded, "in the light of the conditions which greeted the eyes of the first combat troops, it is not believed that justice or equity demand that the difficult and perhaps impossible task of fixing individual responsibility now be undertaken."

What if this guy’s just a soldier? What if he’s an officer with no ties to the SS? What if he’s innocent? You know what? What if he’s a fucking Nazi commandant of a fucking slave camp? Which one? Which camp? You don’t have any proof. Were you at Landsberg? You know I was. You think he’s a soldier like you and me? A fucking innocent German officer? Where the hell have you been for the past three years?

Notice that I have mentioned all these things and then gave dialogue from Band of Brothers for them? How I have barely added more detail of things that were not depicted? It's because Band of Brothers is the only series, movie, or anything else I know to depict the Holocaust and then accurately depict how the liberators of the camps reacted to them - in every single way:

Discovery. The urge, the need, to help - somehow. Distributing food and water too rich for the starved. Orders to stop and herd them back into the camps. Continuing the advance. Forced concentration. Reprisals.

Band of Brothers has it all - I've never seen anybody do it better.

#Band of Brothers #Why We Fight #long post

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sunderingstars · 3 months

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☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ OUTFIT & DESIGN MOTIFS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: half-character-study, half-analysis, waxing poetic, elation!sampo

— word count: 3.1k

— overview: (as of 2.2) a look at sampo’s outfit and design, as well as how it may link to an identity closely connected with the elation.

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

For the sake of my own sanity, I’ll be splitting this analysis into clear-cut sections:

Snake Motifs

Binding Chains

Weapon

Hair

Color Palette

Shoes & Walking

Layers

Exposed Skin

Here’s his splash art for reference, although I’ll also be including other photos of his outfit:

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SNAKE MOTIFS ⌝

One of the biggest aspects of Sampo’s outfit design are the snake bones littered across his clothing. From the scaled chain behind him to the shoulder guard that has a protrusion reminiscent of venom-dipped fangs, there is a lot of snake imagery present. Not just snake, however, but dead snake. It’s important to note that none of these pieces have skin or lively color — they’re all bones, bleached and picked clean. For me, this implies Sampo to be a skeleton character, a whisper of a dead or dying thing that still carries a last bit of venom in its fangs. Whether that “thing” is a metaphorical emotional state (centering themes of disillusionment and fatigue), a literal identity (centering themes of lessening power and lowering status), or a combination of both is up for interpretation. Either way, something inside him is decaying.

The snake — the living, hunting predator — is past its prime, stripping away over the years into something that barely resembles itself, the bones of an ancient and powerful thing. Emanator!Sampo may find himself slowly drawing away from the compulsive Elation first bestowed upon him, while Aha!Sampo may find Themself rotting into Their own mortal shell, the remains of what used to be a superficial avatar sticking to Their bones and sucking them clean; alternatively, the restrictions placed upon this mortal form of Sampo may cause Aha to be whittled down, only an echo of Their full strength. In another case, the silhouette behind the masks, the bones behind the meat, may have found himself steadily falling out of orbit with his larger mind, eventually ending up as nothing but a shadow of his former power as an Aeon — a skeleton, removed from the body when it was no longer needed. Or, perhaps, he is trying to keep the venom in.

(Note: His eyes are also snake-shaped like Baizhu’s from Genshin Impact!)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ BINDING CHAINS ⌝

When looking at Sampo in a 360-degree view through the camera, something became apparent to me — the snake motifs (the spine and scales especially) seem to wrap around him tightly. In the splash art, this is a little difficult to tell (as the spine is flared out behind him), but here, they are tightly wrapped around multiple parts of his body:

Here, we see a fairly small part — a cuff wrapped around his upper forearm. This sticks out to me because it seems similar to a handcuff, or some kind of article of containment. It fits snugly, pressing in on his skin. There is also a similar wrapping around his thigh, showing that this is not a one-off design decision. There are multiple tight wrappings of containment around his body, which then implies a something in containment. Additionally, there’s the bone chains on his back:

They wrap around to the front, resting in the hollow of his neck. There are also two latches fastened to his back, giving the idea of the bones almost “hugging” him. Now, we are beginning to get a dual picture: a snake, slowly choking and constricting its prey, and a binding chain of bones, something meant to keep danger contained. We can see this even more clearly once the full picture comes together from different angles:

(These wrappings are even reminiscent of the symbol for Ouroboros, an ancient Gnostic and Alchemical symbol that represents the constant cycle of life, death, and rebirth, as well as the unity of all things material and spiritual. As I’ll discuss in its own dedicated analysis, this presence of the snake as a symbol of rebirth and unity may speak to a constant cycle of different emotions or consciousnesses within him — a loop he seemingly can’t escape. He is trying to live, but death ever looms in the background. Additionally, this points towards him trying to reconcile multiple facets of his being.)

The snake does not want to leave. It is cloying, constricting, containing at every waking moment, unwilling to relinquish the meat inside it. I believe the snake and the chains are one and the same: at the same time Sampo is being hurt and constricted, he is also being contained. The snake bones may represent Aha as a separate entity, the Elation as a addiction-filled Path, self-imposed rules from a more powerful past self, or even the “restrictions” placed on higher beings by virtue of existence.

An Emanator!Sampo may be constantly choked by the chains of his status, the realization that this Path isn’t the one he wants — disillusionment is hard to hold on to when surrounded by those who move from sorrow to joy at the drop of a hat. The gaze of an Aeon may constantly weigh on his shoulders like venom-tipped fangs waiting to strike, waiting to strip everything away from him once he becomes no longer “interesting.” Or perhaps that interest is the binding itself, the consuming, compulsive need to laugh, to operate on impulse, to push all feelings of doubt out before they can even be felt; the want to so desperately escape from Elation despite it clinging to him like a specter, regardless of his wants or needs. Emanator!Sampo may also be contained in his power, the same disillusionment that drives him to stray forcing him to hold back his true power, the truth that he could ruin everything he cares for with a single mistake. He doesn’t know what to do when the Elation grows ever tighter, ever higher, the bones of a rotting thing turning him rotten as well. He wants to escape but doesn’t know how.

(Perhaps, this desperation has rotted into hate which has rotted into vengeance, a dedication to using his life to push out the last of his venom, if only to stain an Aeon with Their own blood before falling away.)

Alternatively, an Aha!Sampo may find Themself now restricted by flesh and blood, feeling Themself to be a shadow, a dead skeleton of what They once were. For whatever reason, Their mortal form is forced to have restrictions, perhaps the same ones They face in Aeonic form. But it’s small. Too small. Ten thousand sizes too small, as it always is, and now They’re trapped for a longer time, forced by a looming threat to operate in the shadows, slowly hollowing out with the distance of consciousness and time.

Who are They, if not the masks? Who are They, if not an Aeon? Perhaps this is not even mask-related at all, but rather a silhouette who grew tired, determined to carve his own path when the stench of decay became too much. The Original, The Progenitor, far outlasted by feelings that grew too strong for his body to handle. He is not an Aeon, not a mortal, but somewhere between a bleached skull and a mouth full of venom. How can he spit out what is rightfully inside him? How can he cut the binds that tie him to an eldritch being he was never meant to be?

He does not want Elation, but Elation has always wanted him. How can he escape something so dedicated to swallowing him whole? How can he escape something so natural to his being? There is no clear answer besides one: if he does not find a way to escape, the only thing left of him will be bone.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ WEAPON ⌝

Anyway! Haha! Isn’t he so silly? Let’s look at his weapon next:

It seems to continue the snake theme, with both sides of the blades marked with the same bright purple of the “fangs” on his shoulder guard. I don’t think it’s a mistake that these are the brightest colors of the outfit, but I’ll save that for later. For now, let’s focus on the dual nature of his weapon. Besides carrying on the snake theme, these are dual blades, able to be split apart and combined at a moment’s notice. To me, this seems like an indication of two “sides” to Sampo, two different personas that can be separated, combined, or interchanged at will. This could be an Emanator form, an Aeonic form, or simply another personality or “deeper” emotion behind the con-man persona.

I find this choice of weapon very fitting for him, as it capitalizes on the dexterity of both his personality and fighting style. It’s something that is easily able to be tossed from a distance, allowing him to damage enemies over time without getting too close to danger. There is also an inversion to its form, and while that could just be so he doesn’t scratch himself when throwing it, I also see its connection to the “inversion” of Sampo’s E6 and Aha’s splash art silhouette. There is an implication of inversion, mirroring, and duality with this weapon. Whatever power or consciousness he may be holding, there’s a good chance there are multiple dimensions to it, the kind of dimensions that exceed mortal standards.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ HAIR ⌝

Something of note is the grey in his hair, a color often attributed to older and more powerful characters (Welt has a (albeit dyed) strand of grey hair and Acheron has grey strands as well). They are, however, at the bottom of his hair, like the (perhaps also dyed?) blue is trying to override it. This could speak to an attempt to find his own identity, to cast aside the bleached white of decaying bones and find some vibrance to live for. There’s also a lot of it compared to other characters. It’s not just one or two strands, it’s entire parts of his hairtips, with the implication even more may be white behind the blue. This would line up with what he says about being an “old timer,” most likely downplaying his own status to “just an old guy” when he is vastly more powerful than others realize.

Additionally, his hair obscures one of his eyes, always casting half of his face behind blue.

I feel this speaks to the idea of “multiple” sides, since one part of him is literally hidden from view. There’s the laughing, joking con-man we see, sure, but we don’t see the “hate” festering beneath, the potential despising of one’s own power and being. We don’t see the silhouette behind the masks. It wants to be free, most likely, of the chains that bind it, wants to step into the open with the clarity of rage, but it is not allowed. And so it stays, hidden behind blue. It stays, allowing the turquoise eye of a red-tinted mask to operate beyond, leaving itself to fester and rot into itself. Would we see an eye, if we pulled back that hair? Would we see something besides a wink here, a crease there? Would we find a matching color, or would we find blood red, a space infested with angry maggots? Would we perhaps find a hole? The blank, staring Nothing of Nihility? Only time will tell.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ COLOR PALETTE ⌝

An interesting thing I noted while staring at pictures of this man’s splash art for way too long is the clash between colors. When dealing with the visible light spectrum, red and blue are on opposite ends. Red and blue are also popularized opponents, despite them not being true opposites on the color wheel. They can clash very jarringly, although the muted reds and blues (bordering on purples) used in Sampo’s outfit compliment each other better than in other combinations. Still, they stick out against each other, chafe against the backdrop of muted grays and blacks of dying bone. The red, often associated with blood, is also associated with Aha’s masks in this case, since most masks have a combination of white and red or red and orange to them (especially in Aha’s splash art). Additionally, blue is often associated with water and calm, which ties back to Sampo’s name “Koski” which means water rapids in Finnish. There is a clear conflict between these colors in Sampo’s outfit, the starkness of drying blood mingling with the attempted free-flowing blue of a new identity. The blue that is so strong in his hair, his mind, is slowly beginning to peek from beyond the red of the rest of his body — a solitary flower, perhaps, watered by the rain and allowed to cautiously, timidly, lean into the doorway of his being. Still, it is a battle. The red will not give up. The pain, the addictive nature of being consumed by the snake, has been there for so long it naturally attempts to obscure whatever new healing the blue brings. But the blue is persistent. And so, it stays.

All the while, the grey hangs in the background, shadow-like. The monochrome, the static, has been there longer than both the red and the blue, so ingrained into him that it’s easily overlooked for the war between blood and water. But it’s there. The bones of that ancient beast will never fade, stagnant as they are. That’s the thing about bones — they last. Even when the blood runs out and the water stops flowing, bones take the longest to decay. They symbolize longevity, perhaps too much of it. An immortality, perhaps, granted by Emanator or Aeon status, that refuses to disperse even as the mind begins to wither. Thus, the red and the blue arrive. They attempt to revitalize the dying bones, the winding snake, putting just enough contrast between them to create a spark, a single flicker of life — a turquoise of bright running water in the eyes, enough to see the world in better clarity.

(And then there is the glowing purple of the fangs, the looming threat, the contained power. Beyond everything else, the venom is still there. It has always been there, waiting to strike.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SHOES & WALKING ⌝

The only thing I want to talk about here is the lack of footprints Sampo leaves behind (I just wanted a dedicated section for it). We can see clearly in the splash art that Sampo has regular soles that should make indents in the snow, yet his character never leaves footprints when walking through Belobog. To me, this indicates an otherworldly nature of being, or a lack of being there in the first place. This can fracture into several different theories, some of which being that it’s intentional on his part and he can manipulate his body and surroundings in a structural way; that it’s simply a byproduct of a higher being taking mortal form (and thus not fully “conforming” to all minutae of human bodies); and that it’s because he is a projection or puppet of some sort that was never really there to begin with. Whatever the case, this seems to be a strong indicator of higher status, whether that be Emanator, Aeonic, or something different. After all, no regular, unassuming guy would be able to so casually and effortlessly defy gravity to not leave footprints.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ LAYERS ⌝

Man, this guy’s outfit is confusing. Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. I’m just still not entirely sure what’s going on in his chest region, there seems to be a lot of straps and buckles and zigzags and windows. I’d like to say this still speaks to the idea of “containment,” as many layers like that would certainly feel constricting, but I also feel like it’s meant to be a “look” as a whole. The bottom layers being black and gray, then blossoming out into blue and red almost makes me think of a decaying animal, with the blood being exposed as well as some of the bone beneath. I also feel like it ties back into his “layered” personality, in which he has different feelings and personas he chooses to either show or hide at any given moment. His neck and hands are also covered (with the red gloves dipping below the black), perhaps further speaking to concealment. The snake motifs are also present on multiple layers, giving the feeling that this is a constriction that runs deep.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EXPOSED SKIN ⌝

I will say it: this man’s outfit is sluttyyy (affectionate). Despite the heavy themes of constriction and concealment, the encroachment of the colors and layers do not affect his forearms and hips. He very much has his “V” out to show the world, and I for one am not complaining. To me, this exposed skin feels like a breath of fresh air, something beyond the rotting, constricted animal for once. This seems to really be Sampo — the flesh and blood Sampo, the mortal, the guy who likes striking poses and probably gives great hugs. Yes, it is still strategic (probably trying to ramp up flirt appeal for when he tries to scam people) but it also seems genuine. Sincere. If the rest of his outfit is a constraining, dying bloodbath, then these pockets of skin are the eye of the storm, the places that seem to be untouched by the onslaught. Here, we see a human being. Not an Emanator or an Aeon or a byproduct of compulsive Elation, but a man. Just a man. Breathing, like everyone else. It’s nice.

My main takeaways from this outfit are:

The bones of an Aeon, with mortal and “Primum Mobile” restrictions combining to constrain.

The bones of an Emanator, slowly whittled away with time and the weathering of longevity bestowed by Elation.

The general themes of rot, decay, snakes, venom, constraint, and being suffocated.

Ouroboros, constant cycles, prey caught in a trap of potentially its own making.

Any combination of these!

(I also wrote this piece before really getting into the Doll!Sampo theory, but there is definitely an interpretation to be had regarding Sampo as a creation of Aha! The decaying animal and contradictory colors could represent the fight between Sampo’s “purpose” and who he really wants to be, as well as the chains of Elation choking his freedom of self-expression and want to be his own person. The consistency of constricting and containing bones could also speak to him being a “shadow” of Aha, the echo of a greater being while still powerful himself. If he was created in Aha’s own likeness, he would probably feel the pressure of always being in the shadow of his creator.

Additionally, many other parts of this analysis can still apply to Doll!Sampo, as I see him as at least Emanator status. Longevity would take even more of a toll on him here, since he would have lived so long being disregarded by others as a “toy.” I’ll probably elaborate more on this when I do a dedicated breakdown of my Doll!Sampo theory!)

A note I couldn’t find a good place for earlier: snake bones also imply shed skin, some siphoning off of a greater part of oneself to be reborn anew. Perhaps he is the dead and dying snake, preparing to molt into something even greater. That’s all!

The End! Overall, I feel like I realized a lot of potential things about Sampo going through the parts of his outfit one-by-one. I’m definitely more on board with the idea of being simultaneously constricted and constrained now! Ties that bind, and all that. I also didn’t realize just how much of a battle his outfit feels like until I really looked at it, and now I feel bad for the poor guy. Whatever his endgame identity is, he is not having a good time. I want to give him a hug :((

Also, I want to include this bonus concept art since it shows the snake motifs were a big aspect from the beginning:

Anyways, that’s all!

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thanks for reading to the end!

(volume warning)

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#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#hsr #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #sampo #sampo koski #sampo hsr #hsr sampo #sampo honkai star rail #analysis #hsr analysis #hsr theory

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