#corrupted shattered dad

[nezuscribe]

𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙

summary: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, royal au, based off of the story from 1001 arabian nights

word count: 10.7k+

warnings: dark content, mdni, 18+, mentions of killing, mentions of taking virginity, has the gallows and a noose in it, praise!kink, corruption!kink, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating

note: for those who don't know, baba means dad, and aziz/azizam means my dear in farsi. this story loosely follows 1001 arabian nights, but not completely. i wasn't gonna sit on my ass and write them all out 💀

also a big, big, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, ty sm bby!!

jjk masterlist

---

The palace smelled deeply of rose petals, a scent so distinctly comforting that you couldn’t help but smile giddily as you walked down the vast halls, looking at the different amenities the palace had to offer as you searched for the room you knew your father would be residing in. 

The more you walked, the darker the halls got and the less the smell of rose lingered in the air, a warning to stay away from this part of the palace. Though you had no choice but to ignore the prominent warnings, your posture became more frigid as you hummed a tune you had heard in the bazaar to keep yourself busy. 

You were well aware of the fact that your father resided right next to the king's quarters, so as you slowly opened his door to make sure no noise was heard, entering as you noted your father sitting on the edge of his bed, his wrinkly hands enveloping his tethered face as he could barely bring himself up to look at you.

“Baba,” Your heart dropped, running over to his frail body, your hands checking his forehead as your eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Does your back hurt? Oh,” You noted his worn-out hands, “You have to let the king find another vizier,” You kneaded his hand with yours, “You cannot be his helper forever,” You cracked a gentle smile, but instead of his usual banter, he shook his head, still not looking up from his bed as he sniffled.

“Baba?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Your father never cried. Never. Not when your mother died, not when the old king died, or even when you had managed to ruin his silken clothing. Despite his hardships, he was the man of the household, and he held himself to that standard.

But here, he looked like the shell of a man. His shoulders were hunched, lips pale as he shuddered, pushing your hands off of his back as he weakly stood up. 

“Y/n,” He stared at the door, eyes quite dead as he refused to look your way, terrified that if he did he would crumble to his knees and beg for an apology. Even worse, if he looked at you, his resolve would shatter and he’d leave the room as fast as he could, “Azizam,” You watched as a singular tear rolled down his cheek, “You will have to forgive me.”

You shakily rose, brows scrunched up in confusion as you let out a question laugh, walking over to him to see what he was talking about, what had gotten him so shaken up that he used such an endearing nickname he had never used before this day.

“The king has asked for you to spend the evening with him,” He muttered, voice hoarse and raspy as he broke down into tears again. 

“He…” Your shaky hands flew to your lips, eyes wide as you stumbled back, “He what?” Your frantic questions went unanswered as your father let more of his endless tears fall, wet lips holding back silent sobs as he turned back.

The king, a dreaded name for those around the palace. You childishly thought that being the daughter of the vizier would somehow spare you of the torture, of the horror that came with going into his quarters at midnight. 

He said nothing as he crumpled down to the floor, hands covering his eyes as you stared at the door, the same one you had entered through, and the same one that seemed to mock you as your hands shook at your side. 

One evening pleasuring the king meant spending the next morning dead.

---

Servants flocked to the room shortly thereafter.

They paid no attention to the old man as they ushered you outside, their nimble fingers working swiftly as they led you to a completely different room, stripping you bare as you worked mindlessly.

You fell into the large basin, cold water splashing across your body as they worked in silence, some here and there whispering words of pity to one another as they gossiped about your father's weakened state.

You knew that deep down, sooner or later, this day would come. That one night they will take you to get clean and pretty so that the king can spend his lonely night with a virgin to bed, and by morning have her dead so that she may not betray him.

You could guess why you were giving off no emotions as their hands scraped your body rid of the dirt and dust, rubbing rose petals across your flesh, running water through your hair as they worked quickly and effortlessly. 

At this point, you knew they had done this many times to know to be quick with the king's impatient temper.

You seemed to be like a mindless doll as they carried you out of the tub, staying quiet as one lady braided your hair, gentle as she wove flowers into the crown of your head. 

You watched as the other carefully dotted the roses across your cheeks, dipping her finger into the jar of honey as she brought it up, careful not to let any of it to waste as she swiped it across your lips, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as you stared out the windows and into the dark veil of night.

“You look very beautiful, azizam,” The old lady behind you muttered, her kind hands letting go of your hair as she gave your shoulder a gentle pat, “I’m sure your father would be proud of his daughter for serving the nation. 

Serving the nation in your one day demise.

“You have not been…” The old lady sighed, looking away as her hands fell to her side, “You have not been bedded yet, yes?”

You slowly shook your head, muttering out a quiet no as she nodded, ushering out all the other ladies as she came to your view, dropping down so that she was level with your knees.

“You are the vizier's daughter, so you must know,” She stated, her hands holding your cold ones as she pressed a soft kiss to the backside of it, “After you go into his room, he will tell you what he wants. When morning comes, he will have you killed.”

“I have heard it’s quick and painless, " She sighed, giving you a sad smile, “Yet those who have experienced it cannot tell the tale, and so I don’t want you to weigh too deeply on my words, okay aziz?”

The old lady looked down at your hands as she took in a shaky breath, lifting your chin as she patted your cheek carefully. 

“The time is almost midnight,” She said and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “He should be expecting us soon.”

---

His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Morning,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I lost you forever.” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king.” You tired for a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever want to think about it.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“You’re doing amazing,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “You’re so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fucking dripping.” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“You’re so sweet azizam, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbing on you.” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Hmm, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet azizam,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” He muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty even when you sleep.” He admitted and you duked your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” He muttered, “Don’t call me king.” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

“I was wondering when you'd run out azizam,” He exclaimed, pressing a light kiss to your lips as he looked down at you adoringly, “Because it’s time I return that favor,” He moved your hair out of your face as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I doubt you’ve heard the wondrous story of the woman who somehow stole my heart."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you angst #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojou x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #royalty au

[acre-of-wheat]

Since there’s an 85% chance I’m thinking about Willow at any given time, I have some more Willow thoughts.

Mainly, why does no one check in with Kit about her brother?

I know that the purpose of The Quest shifts with the discovery of Elora, but it's still ostensibly about saving Airk, and his twin is right there, consumed with worry and guilt about the whole thing, and every time she expresses it she's treated like she's throwing a tantrum.

The Gales

There's tremendous guilt here, where Kit has said something rash and now regrets it, a common theme for her. The apology here is fascinating, because what exactly is she apologizing for? Not protecting her brother? Not being the one taken? Not cherishing her family enough? For behaving badly? Whatever it is, it hurts the heart.

The High Aldwin

As soon as Kit sees the clusterfuck that is the finger test and watches Elora "fail" it, she's out the door, insistent on continuing The Quest because now that Willow has given them a direction she won't let anything stop her. She'll go alone if she has to.

The rest of the party catches up (Kit didn't really want to go alone, or at least not without Jade) and suddenly they have an extremely slow wagon and they've added several members to the party and are taking breaks in the middle of the day for magic lessons-- all things that will slow them down considerably.

As an aside, because this could really be its own whole post, I feel like one of the roots of disconnect between Kit and Jade is that Jade has never taken Kit seriously. Not as a swordsman or adventurer, not as a princess or leader, not even as a real potential love interest. It's not until the edge of the Shattered Sea where Jade finally tells Kit that she'll trust Kit's judgment and doesn't drag her away from the waterfall jump that she learns to have faith. If part of Kit's journey is about learning to believe in Elora, part of Jade's journey is learning to believe in Kit.

The Whispers of Nockmaar

With the knowledge they have at the time, Kit makes the realistic call about Graydon, one that Jade and Boorman agree with (of course not in the moment, don't get me started on that...) and her reasoning remains her brother-- they don't have time to wait for Graydon to turn, to keep him chained up and drag him with, and to inevitably get shanked by him. They've just watched several allies be killed by possessed people, and so far Willow hasn't given them any reason to hope that it can be reversed.

Even with Willow's dodgy faith in the purgation ritual, Kit does throw herself into the process. Then they get partway through and start to hear Airk's voice and Kit loses it.

She fully books it out of the throne room, because this is legit awful.

When Elora goes out to the hallway after her own emotional moment, the two share an aggressive greeting that Kit immediately backs off from.

It should be mentioned that the conversation shifts to Elora's fears about things, and Kit is about to tell her about the eckleberry bush before Elora bounces.

Beyond the Shattered Sea

There's a lot going on in this episode, internally with Kit and externally in her relationship with Elora. They hear the old paladin of Cashmere's story about wandering the Shattered Sea for years and eventually murdering all his companions and Elora says that it doesn't matter, they'll find the city. To Kit this must look like more baseless faith-- faith she hasn't yet learned to have in Elora.

She's just lost her dad again, lost a substitute father figure, the other father figure she has on The Quest has betrayed her trust, and she's desperate to not lose Airk too. She is still deeply conscious of how little time they have, how little time her twin has.

It should be mentioned that they are too late when they reach the Immemorial City! Airk has been corrupted, Kit might have needed to kill him in order to save Elora, they did fail in a meaningful way!

I know we're limited by episode length, and how everyone in the party is perpetually semi-annoyed by Kit, but Kit actually checks in with the party quite a bit! She has a moment with Graydon where she apologizes and gets to know him, she checks in with Jade after Ballantine's death, asks Jade how she's feeling about the whole Bone Reaver family thing, she has three conversations with Elora where the focus is on giving her confidence in herself, she checks in on Willow's emotional health for god's sake.

I just desperately wanted someone to pull this kid aside and say "hey, you good?"

Because she's definitely not.

#willow #kit tanthalos #willow 2022 #jade claymore #elora danan #airk tanthalos #jade i LOVE you #but sometimes i want to shake you #insert 'i have done nothing wrong ever in my life' meme for kit #tanthamore

[lennox0arts]

Icarus laughed as he fell

Credits to fiona for the original poem!

Here is what they don’t tell you:

Icarus knew he was in too deep. They’d said it out loud, leaning against the cave entrance. 

“I’m in too deep now.”

The words left their lips in a shaky whisper that they knew no one would ever hear. They felt so helplessly, utterly alone as they sobbed against the cold rock. The word their friend had once called them circled through their mind.

Failure.

They knew he was right. They’d failed at being a good brother, a good friend, and they’d even failed at being themself.

They knew their back pressed against the same stone wall that had been splattered with the blood of their best friend by the blade of their father. Within the walls of this cavern, the fighting between Centross and their Dad replayed in their head. The purple scythe of the violet reaper turning their father mortal, and sealing their best friend's death wish. The golden sword through his chest. His smile as he faded into the stars, leaving nothing behind but the scythe, the now mortal god, and the son the god had almost killed. 

Icarus laughed as he fell.

They felt their body wrack with cries mixed with confused, hysteric laughter. They felt disconnected from the winged person who stood from the altar staggering towards the fallen god. 

They heard themself screaming, 

“You killed him! You killed David!” Their father simply nodded. Almost as if to suggest it had to be done. As if their best friend had to be killed. Their mind flashed to the memories they’d tried so hard to bury.

Threw his head back and

yelled into the winds,

They were in the obsidian bunker, reaching through the gap of the trap that had opened barely enough for them to see.

“David?!” They smiled madly, their matted hair crusted with crimson. A drop of blood traced it’s way down their cheek bone. 

   “David let me out!” They demanded, their voice was rough and scratchy from hours of yelling. The man looked down at them with cold purple eyes,  smiling at the trapped one like a hunter smiles at an animal caught in their snare.

“Y’know, Sherb,” The cloaked man smirked, “I don’t think I will.”

They felt their heart plop into their stomach as they tasted their lunch on their tongue as it forced its way up their throat.  “David! Let me out!” 

“Sherbert. Here’s what you don’t realize. Once a failure, always a failure.”

“Wha-” Icarus  was cut off by the darkening of the world around them. They felt the pain of landing before they felt the explosion of pain in their head.

arms spread wide,

teeth bared to the world.

And then they were back in the endstone reset, on the destroyed roof of Will’s estate. Their hands shook, rain pelting their face, running down the deep purple inset lines of corruption before dripping off their chin. They flung open their arms and screamed at the heavens,

“Isn’t this enough? I killed her! I did what you wanted!” They were hyperventilating now, their chest pressing uncomfortably against the bow slung around their shoulder. The bow they’d just used to kill their best friend for a goddess that hadn’t spoken to them, or shown that she knew he existed. 

(There is a bitter triumph

in crashing when you should be

soaring.)

They were standing on a trail of “wack.” As they began to take off, the base of their feathers turned into shards of gold that jabbed into their back and shoulder blades, piercing their skin as the feathers and muscles of their wings crystallized into a mess of amethyst and gold. In a moment of silence that most likely only lasted a few seconds, Icarus realized they were on the ground. Mere milliseconds after this thought, the metal that was now their wings shattered into sharp shards, slicing into their skin, logging into their back, digging into the ground.

One word through the pain.

Quixis.

The wax scorched his skin,

ran blazing trails down his back,

his thighs, his ankles, his feet.

They were standing before the lectern at Haley's funeral, watching the explosion of the tree speed towards them. They heard the loud boom and the rattling of their bones. The fire clawed towards them, dragging itself on the ground like a monster lunging towards its prey. The fire nipped at their two-toned jacket, ashes burning their eyes. It caught them up in flames before the world went blank and they heard a page being torn. 

Feathers floated like prayers

past his fingers,

close enough to snatch back.

Snippets of other worlds flew past them, and they caught only a few glimpses. Them trapped in a concrete box trying to save a girl named Charlotte. Them running from a horse sized chicken. Them in front of a screen, talking to words on a box. 

Death breathed burning kisses

against his shoulders,

where the wings joined the harness.

Then they were inside the cave. Watching the fighting once more from their place at the altar. Their chest aching as the skin stretched and rearranged in a glitching mess, each unstable breath more painful than the last. Centross and Fable pushing each other around the cave, each one landing punch after punch. Them, not knowing who to defend.  Seeing their friend fade into the void. Doing nothing to help him.

Yelling.

Sobbing.

Laughter.

Betrayal.

Then, Fable walking towards them, framed by the sunset. 

“I can bring him back.”

The sun painted everything

in shades of gold.

They were back outside the cave. Where they knew they actually were. Curled up into themself. He could get him back. He just needed more power. He was going to kill the primordials and rid the earth of death, or burn the world to shambles if doing so failed. And Icarus, his caged little bird, was going to stand muted at his side in the ashes of a fire they could have put out.

After all,

(There is a certain beauty

in setting the world on fire

and watching from the centre

of the flames.)

#fable smp #fablesmp #fsmp #fsmpblr #icarus morningstar #fable smp sherbert #centross #screaming crying throwing up #fablesmpblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writeblr #fanfiction #fanfic #fable fanart

[13keithxpidge13]

I'm giving Miles and Hobie cute little kids bc I CAN

Hobie always wanted a big family. He knew he'd never get the chance to have one but it was the thought that counted, he supposed. He'd like to think about what his daughters and sons would look like, who'd he'd fall in love with to have his children with.

It was silly, to dream that is. He'd never want to bring children into his sick and twisted universe.

He never thought his dream would become a reality.

Miles and Hobie have Aaron when Miles is twenty five and Hobie is twenty seven. He was...sort of a surprise. They had been thinking of trying for a child after being married for almost three years but only thinking. Hobie was terrified of having children, even though he had permanently moved into Miles' dimension after successfully taking down his corrupt government. He was still scared because-what if he wasn't good at being a father? What if he fucked their kid up?

Even after several reassurances that he'd be great from Miles, it never really did ease his worries but it was nice to know that at least Miles had faith in him.

So, yes, little Aaron was most definitely a surprise.

He was a little hyper babe, always moving and always talking to his parents in his baby babble. He wasn't as hyper as Mayday had been but, he was definitely a talker, especially with Miles. But, Hobie soon found out that, much like himself, his son was infatuated with music of any kind. Despite that, Aaron liked it when his dad played his guitar the most, squealing and giggling uncontrollably when Hobie would strum his fingers across his guitar strings to make noise.

He also loves to go flying with both his parents. If it was nice out enough, Miles would wrap him in a tight blanket and hold him against his chest and swing from building to building, making Aaron scream and shriek with absolute delight.

Their son was already showing signs of being a super just like them. He could pick up heavy objects like an ipad or a glass plate with no problem and he had already tried climbing on the walls. Miles hair nearly turned completely white at the sight of their little boy in the middle of the ceiling and screamed for Hobie so loud he thought the windows would shatter.

Three years later, they had their baby girl; Brooklyn. Sweet babe she was but /loud/ she most certainly could be. She had Miles' nose, his pretty eyes, and curly hair that matched Miles and Rio's to a T. She looked like her papa and grandma in every way. Hobie absolutely adored his little girl, his precious princess.

She was a little terror though. She had Hobie's brash and outgoing attitude. She was /very/ demanding but had Miles' soft heart. She was a daddy's girl through and through and Hobie loved to dote on her for it. She had the same exact affinity for music that Hobie did and was a big artist. Brooklyn would scribble something on a piece of paper and immediately go to show her dada who would claim she was better than all those shitty renaissance artists from four hundred years ago. Soon, the fridge would be covered in tens and tens of scribbles and sketches made by Brooklyn, her parents cooing and praising her for her creativity. She also had powers, could climb on the walls and ceilings for days if she wanted. It was her favorite pastime besides her art and playing the drums. As she grows older, she becomes part of a band and her aunt Gwen teaches her all she knows about being a drummer.

AAAAA I love my punkflower babies. I thought I was really clever with their names hehe. If you want more.of them, feel free to send me asks! I'll be happy to answer them!

#punkflower

[anotherwatchedninja]

hold on- HEAR ME OUT-

Drop my traumatised green eyed blorbo Lloyd Garmadon into any sort of ‘kid follows the parents path as a destiny’ assumed thing, Ever After High, Descendants, doesn’t quite matter, and watch everyone’s perspectives get SHATTERED.

Like, this boy is a shitton of trauma with a more childish mind in an aged up body, a gods grandkid with a secret-keeping uncle and a shell of a father, plus a mother who ditched him before he could even form a memory of her, he probably wouldn't even have been born if his dad wasn’t corrupted as a child, he was prophesied to destroy the very being that was possessing his dads body at one point, SAVED his father from it, LOST his god-mode powers, he was maybe ten when he learnt of a prophecy, was taught to be evil, pretty much gave up the idea as soon as his weird uncle and five people were nice to him, had to lose his dad, got possessed, got aged and sent into a sword, got his heart broken, got traumatised even more and lost most of his friends, had to deal with the revival of what was left of his fathers evil side which was never even the true him, almost lost one of his closest friends, got cubed, got stuck dealing with a drawn out ATLA episode, lost one of his closest friends for a year, got arrested again, had to destroy the overlord again, and then his realm got merged with a bunch of others.

Like, he needs therapy. And I’m not sure any of these worlds have therapists.

so many reasons he could become a villain, and he stayed good

You can bet those kids of villains would be under his protection

#Ever after high #ninjago #dragons rising #lloyd garmadon #disney descendants #descendants #masters of SPINJITZU #This blorbo needs therapy and he’s gonna protect these fuckin kids #Your concepts of destiny? Meet LLOYD FUCKING MONTGOMERY GARMADON #Milton Grimm? MEET THE SWORD OF SANCTUARY #the shitty parents of way too many VK’s? MEET LORD GARMADON

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 18

Author's note: A bit of a filler chapter before things happen next week 👀

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Oh, she's back!"

"Hello, Silvia" I say, walking into our apartment and letting myself fall on the sofa.

"How was your sexual retreat?"

"My what?" I laugh.

"You've spent two weeks with your boyfriend in a house in the middle of nowhere. Alone. Are you telling me you've spent all that time playing chess?"

"We actually did play chess a couple of nights."

"Oh, c'mon, Val."

"We did" I say. "We played chess, Uno, did some touristy things, went to the beach, took the longest naps, worked out, had lunch with his family, had sex in every room of the house multiple times, cooked the most delicious meals, danced in the town's square…"

"Wait, wait, wait. You had lunch with his family?" Silvia gasps.

"Yeah…"

"How… How did that happen?"

"Last weekend were the town's festivities and they have some friends there who invited them over to spend some time together. They knew Pedri was at the house, decided to go pay him a visit and…" I shrug.

"Please tell me they didn't catch you doing anything."

"We were napping. But it was so embarrassing… The night before we had been in town until very late and we were shattered, so after lunch we just layed down on the sofa and passed out. It was one of those naps that make you drool all over yourself and that when you wake up you don't know where you are."

"Oh, I'm familiar with those" she chuckles.

"Since we weren't answering the door, his parents just walked in because they had a copy of the keys. And when they made it to the living room, they found their son sleeping half naked on a sofa with a woman also half naked sleeping on top of him" I explain while covering my face with my hands, the embarrassment of the moment coming back. 

"When you say half naked you mean…"

"We both were topless and in our underwear. It was really hot and we were so tired… Who could have imagined that his parents would decide to come pay him a visit?"

"Oh my God, Val" Silvia laughs. "Then what happened?"

"His mother called his name, Pedri got scared, and I ended up on the floor."

"No!"

"Yes..."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Pedro! What… what is this?" 

"I… This… Shit, Val. Are you ok?" he asks me.

"Yeah, yeah" I say, slowly sitting up. 

"Is this… her?" a female voice says behind me.

"Yes, mum" Pedri replies. Mum? Mum! His mother! She's here! Why is she here? Oh… my God. "Why don't you wait in the kitchen while we make ourselves a bit more presentable?"

"Good idea" she says. 

"Pedri…" I whisper once I hear her leave. Though she wasn't alone. A man who I assume is Pedri's dad, was with her. 

"I know" he sighs, laying down on the sofa again. 

"What are they doing here?"

"I don't know."

"What are we going to do?"

"Talk to them?" he chuckles.

"Pedri, I can't meet your parents like this!"

"As if I looked any better."

"Well, you are their son, they are used to it. I am a stranger."

"You aren't. You know I've told them about you and even showed them some photos."

"Which only makes this worse. What will they think of me?"

"Probably that I've corrupted you" he laughs.

"Not funny" I say, hitting him with the pillow I had used to cover myself. "I'm going to our room to make myself a bit more presentable."

"And I'm going to talk with them and ask them why they are here."

"Shouldn't you put a t-shirt on or something?"

"They are my parents, Val. They've seen me like this before."

"And have they also seen that?" I say, nodding towards his crotch.

"Oh, shit."

"That's what I thought" I laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"No way!" Silvia laughs.

"Yes" I sigh. "Then when we both were more presentable we had a chat with them and everything was fine. They are lovely people, super nice."

"So they are ok with you dating, the age difference and all that?"

"They are, yes. His mum told me that she had never seen him as focused and happy as he is right now and that I probably was the reason why." 

"Oh, that's wonderful, Val!" she says, hugging me. "You've been worried about that since the beginning and look!"

"I guess it is good" I shrug. 

"It is. Trust me."

"I don't think it'll be this easy with my mum, tho."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now we must focus on these good news, and on some other news that aren't that good."

"What happened?" I ask.

"Marc and Isabel's wedding" Silvia says.

"Oh, fuck. Can you believe I managed to forget about it?"

"I actually do," she laughs. "That's the power of Vitamin D."

"Idiot" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"Anyway, I crossed paths with them the other day and Isabel asked me if you were going to take Ferran as your plus one to the wedding."

"Urgh, Ferran" I groan. "Why can't their US tour last a few more days? That way I would have a good excuse to go alone. But no, Barcelona have to be useless when I need them."

"Are you asking him to be your plus one, then?" Silva asks.

"I can't. I think… I think Emma was right and he has feelings for me. And I think the girl he slept with in Ibiza also was right and he was trying to forget someone... Me."

"Shit. That's…"

"Messy" I sigh .

"But if you show up alone Isabel will be merciless. You know that, right?"

"I do" I sigh again. "But if he is trying to forget me I can't put him through that. And I can't put Pedri through that either. If only I could take him to the wedding…"

"Too dangerous. Isabel is capable of exposing your relationship."

"I know" I sigh once again. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

"Things were easier at your sexual retreat, uh?" Silvia laughs.

"Definitely" I chuckle. The definitely were.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

We shouldn't have left

What?

Tenerife We should have stayed, life was easier

What happened?

The wedding is coming 

Oh… I see

We should have stayed.  They have a little school, I could teach there.  And since Tenerife isn't that far away, you could play for them.  Theirs is a t-shirt I would wear. And it is white! You look so hot in white…

Val 😂😂😂

Think about it. It's the perfect plan And you would be close to your family

But we would be away from yours and all our friends

I don't care It would be worth it

That's what you say now

Urgh 😩😩😩

Do you want to talk about the wedding?

Tomorrow in person.  Now I'm too tired from the flight and everything, I'm going to bed

To dream about me? 😏

And our perfect life in Tenerife 🥺

One day, Val

Maybe when I've retired

Which will be in 20 years 😭  20 years of having to see you wear that ugly shirt 😭

🙄🙄🙄

But do you still see us together in 20 years?

Forever 🤍

Aww, she's gone cheesy 🥺

Meh, meh, meh 🙄

I love you, Val 🤍

I love you too 🤍

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fanfic #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

[nuclear-bastard]

what if, instead of hatching into a dragon, juanaflippa just kinda, shatters... and a static hiss bursts out and a cloud of code data is now just exposed. Her dad cant hug her anymore, and slowly, everything she touches corrupts beyond recognition, beyond recovery. Charlie, to survive, has to return to the slime, without her, or has to make the choice to melt into the code to be reunited with his daughter, if shes even still in there.

:3

#qsmp codeflippa #qsmp juanaflippa #qsmp slimecicle #q!slimecicle #qsmp #qsmp lore #qsmp headcanons

[hongthoven]

Love me like you hate me | Hongjoong x Reader

❅ pairing : kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

❅ rate : +18 | angst, smut

❅ warnings : violence, strong language, sex

❅ status : chaptered, unfinished | part 2

❅ tags&stuff : gang leader!hj, gang AU, stripper!reader, drugs, money, corruption, stripclub, violence, San as hj's right-hand man and Wooyoung as their overexcited sidekick, San is kind of a sadistic bastard, heart eyes for Woo, little bit of Woosan if you squint, graphic sex scenes incoming, joong is a rough little man with a potty mouth, bit of sweet Yunho to soothe everything down a little

❅ plot : growing up under the influence of his father's toxic masculinity, Hongjoong has been taught not to ever show any signs of weakness. As an adult and having turned into one of the most threatening gang leaders, cold hearted and untouchable, Hongjoong shows no interest in anything but collecting shivers and startled looks from the enemies - until he meets his only weakness, the girl that sends his entire world shatter into pieces.

❅ author's notes : hi there, i'm crys, english isn't my first language so pardon any mistake that may occur. I hope you'll enjoy that chaptered/hongjoong-centered fic!

❅ Ao3 : kim_hongjoong

chapter one.

Hongjoong had always hated his birthday. It’s not that he didn’t like the attention -he actually did, a lot- but something about it made him sad. Maybe it was the Peter Pan syndrome, the fear of growing up, getting older and becoming an adult when childhood was all fun and games. A friend from school had once told him that the older you grew, the closer you were to die, but Hongjoong had never paid much attention to his words.

Death had never seemed real to him. He would see people getting shot in movies, see it on the news, but as long as it was behind a screen, it was never real, more like a part of the twisted imagination of a 7 year-old who loved to play cops and robbers with kids from his neighborhood. Surely Death couldn’t be a real thing if people came back as ghosts, or zombies, right?

Until he found himself staring at a coffin going six feet under, surrounded by friends and family as they paid their last goodbye to his mother. Up until this day, Hongjoong had no idea a parent could die. Not even when his mother had gotten so sick she just couldn’t leave her bed. With the innocence of a child, Hongjoong had simply convinced himself she had some bad stomach flu and that, someday, eventually, she would walk out of her bedroom again so they could watch more zombie movies together. She loved zombie movies and so did he, even if it gave him the worst nightmares.

Looking up through his blurry vision, blinking a mix of tears and raindrops away, Hongjoong could tell his father was upset by the way his jaw seemed to tense under his skin and how tightly he was holding his hand, up to the point he was truly convinced he would break every single bone in his fingers if he kept squeezing his strong fist into his. But he wasn’t crying.

When everyone around them seemed to be devastated, from his bawling aunt mourning her sister to their upstairs neighbor who tried his best but still failed to swallow up his tears, every single person surrounding the black casket as it went down into the ground looked accordingly upset, except for his father.

As far as he could remember, Hongjoong had never seen his father show any kind of emotion, let alone shed a tear and while it could’ve been a regular “dad” thing to the eyes of a 7yo, the little boy often found himself wondering if boys truly didn’t cry. As a kid, he obviously came home crying a lot after he’d fallen from his bike or got into a fight, but while his mother would always comfort him with a cuddle and a kiss on top of his head, his father would either ignore his pleas or just ask him to “tough up”.

While he had no idea how to act “tough”, Hongjoong knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to match his father’s expectations, even if it meant he would never get to shed a single tear ever again. Nothing would ever beat the complete devastation of losing his mother on his own birthday, so why would ever cry again?

❅❅❅

“Fuck- my dad’s gonna kill me” Hongjoong looked through the dusty mirror of the questionable toilets he had locked himself in with his best-friend after they had found shelter in the next gas station. Having just turned 15, Hongjoong often found himself skipping class to wander around the city, looking for a new purpose which often led him towards a troubled path. Today was no exception and while most of the kids his age were busy studying for their exams, Hongjoong and San had both decided that summer break had already started.

“I mean, you still won, what’s the big deal?” San shrugged, lighting himself a cigarette as he perched himself on the edge of the sink, unbothered by the absolute lack of window and the fact they would probably suffocate from the smoke within a minute.

San had been by his side ever since they were little kids as he literally lived across the hall, their front doors so close they might as well be roommates. While Hongjoong was an only child, San was part of a really dysfunctional, blended family. Hongjoong had actually lost track of how many step siblings he had as it seemed like a new child seemed to walk through the door everyday. As the eldest, it was no surprise to see San spend most of his time outside of the family circle, roving the streets until the latest hours of the day so everyone was asleep by the time he went home. Hongjoong couldn’t help but wonder if San was ever sad about acting like a complete stranger within his own family, but he never dared to ask. San wasn’t much of a talker and whenever someone would try and cross the line of the iron wall he had built around him, he would just punch them hard enough for them not to even speak his name ever again.

What’s the big deal? Hongjoong asked himself as he wiped blood off the corner of his mouth, trying to pat his bruised skin with his sleeve as it looked like he had bumped into a door, making it a winner. Though he had won the fight - a pretty stupid fight over a pack of cigarettes - against some older kid from high-school, Hongjoong just knew his father wouldn’t let him live with a face showing obvious signs of weakness.

“Whatever… few more years and I’ll be out of here anyway” Hongjoong sighed while looking down the sink. It definitely looked like it hadn’t seen a single wipe in years and if he tried to pour water into his hands, Hongjoong just knew it would come out the color of dirt. This place was a shithole, like the entire city he had grown in.

Taking his first drag of well-deserved nicotine, Hongjoong couldn’t help but think about his future, counting the days until he was out of this place, out of his father’s grip and finally free to become the man he was always meant to be. Someone powerful whose name would make people shudder, someone his own father would fear.

But for now, he was just a 15yo boy feeling sick at the thought of going home.

❅❅❅

Walking into the Dinner like he owned the place, San looked around while giving a few fist-bumps to some acquaintances, the shimmering sound of the bells above the door following his every step. Wasting no time in finding his usual spot by the bar, perched on top of a stool, San immediately slammed his hand upon the silvery surface, announcing himself.

“Whose dick do I have to suck to get a burger?” he chanted, his dimple digging into his cheek as his smile grew wider.

“Fuck off, San” Yunho barely spared him a glimpse, too busy pouring the cheapest brand of soda into two rainbow colored paper cups, his glasses almost slipping off his nose from sweating into the kitchen for too long. Yunho was a top class student working his ass off in the evening and sacrificing his weekends to gather enough money for college. While he was the complete opposite of the outcast San had turned out to be, Yunho was still part of the few privileged men who hadn’t been beaten up by Hongjoong’s best friend.

“Jeong, I know you’re craving for it as the flaming homosexual that you are, and I’m flattered, but I’d rather sit on broken glass than go anywhere near your flabby cock…”

Yunho knew better than to reply to San’s typical provocations and decided to ignore his comment, taking his order with him towards the table at the very back of the restaurant. Bending over the bar to grab himself a paper cup where he could pour his own soda, San watched as his best-friend finally escaped from the kitchen, hands full of plates.

“There he is, our local heartbreaker!” San chuckled to himself, grabbing a straw just so he would get a chance to blow into it and watch as its wrapper went flying to the next table, collecting a few cold glances from strangers.

When Yunho walked back to pick up the next orders from his hands, Hongjoong took the opportunity to catch a five minutes break, pouring himself a glass of water and gulping it down immediately like he’d been wandering through a desert for days. Grilling steaks and cleaning tables was nowhere near the glamorous life he hoped for, but it gave him an income and a reason to drop out of school when sitting at a table for 8 hours a day had become too much. Though he was smart and capable of doing great, Hongjoong had quickly given up on any hope for some higher education. If anything, he would be a self-made man and learn from experience rather than black boards and books.

“Rumor has it you dumped your girlfriend, you monster!” San grinned, finding pride in the way his best-friend rolled his eyes at him with complete disgust.

“First of all - she was never my girlfriend, we hooked up twice and the girl thought I’d marry her somehow?”

“Once is an accident, twice is a date… Which is why I never do second shots!”

Resting on his elbows upon the bar, Hongjoong simply sighed to himself while locking his head between his arms, absolutely exhausted.

“Whatever” he groaned, unbothered by the reputation he was about to get for ditching a girl after a couple fucks, “you got the cash?” he asked again, composing himself as he recalled the main reason why they had decided to meet up in the middle of his shift.

“Yeah, we good”

Though he never spared much emotion, Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile for a brief second at the thought of leaving this place soon. Having just turned 18, both him and San were getting closer to freedom and while the path they had taken to gather enough money to move into the big city was definitely not the safest, Hongjoong just knew he was on his way to become the better version of himself. One thing he knew is that it would be a lonely road as he would never allow anyone to grow a place into his heart, anything close to a relationship he ever had somehow always ending with tears and drama as he failed to commit. While anyone would find it sad, Hongjoong felt comfortable being lonely, his trust issues always making him feel like everyone was a threat, except for the one person he actually trusted with his own life, his best-friend.

When he came home later that night, Hongjoong felt like he had been run over by a truck, ready to collapse on top of his bed from the exhaustion of a double shift. Fridays were always the busiest and despite his absolute lack of interest in school and studies, Hongjoong had definitely inherited some extremely strong working ethic from his father. The only thing he had, along with his thin nose and his natural pouty lips. Everything else was an absolute copy-paste of his mother’s face, from the shape of his eyes that turned into crescents whenever he smiled to his cheekbones and the mole on the side of his neck, Hongjoong had lost track of the times he’d been told how much he looked like his late mother even though it always brought a genuine smile upon his face. Having people comparing him to his father would be like being linked to the Devil himself, something he would never wish for anyone, even his archenemies.

The lights were out, except for that one lamp his father always forgot to switch off before going to bed, like he could afford paying for that much electricity when the fridge was filled with coupon food. Walking towards it, ready to turn it off, Hongjoong was surprised to find his father’s silhouette sitting on the couch, facing the coffee table where a ridiculous amount of money was on display. Money Hongjoong instinctively recognized as the cash he was keeping safely hidden in the drop ceiling of his bedroom.

“What’s this?” Hongjoong didn’t know how else to start this conversation, his hands turning into nervous fists as he started to dig his own nails into his palms, out of nerves.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking?”

“Looks like a shit ton of money to me”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t act so cocky.. Where’s the money from?”

“In case you didn’t know, I have a job”

“You’re making burgers and fries, what do you think you are, CEO?” his father almost spat back, his hand flying into the air like he was too eager to punch something but too early into the conversation to actually hit his son across the face.

“I’m gonna ask you again, just once–” he started, his finger pointing at him now “where is the money coming from?”

“None of your business” Hongjoong knew his attitude would definitely not get him out of this situation, but knowing his father, there was no way he would walk out of this room with his money back if he didn’t stand up for himself. His dad was such a pitiful excuse for a man that he’d rather burn the bills himself than have his son win this battle.

“I did not raise you to become some cheap dealer or whatever that is!”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘I did not raise you” to be fair…” Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest now, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek as he found pride and amusement in the way his father was getting more frustrated by the second. A couple years from now, he would’ve caved, apologized and made sure to crawl back into his room hoping not to see his father burst through the door ready to punish him. But today, Hongjoong had finally grown tired of being scared. Over time, his father had become a ghost made of all his insecurities, haunting him every once in a while, but he wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

There was a silence as both seemed to dare each other through the coldest look until his father finally lifted himself up from the couch, instantly aiming for his throat and pushing him towards the nearest wall, his back hitting it so hard he felt it through every fiber of his skin. As his father’s hand wrapped tighter around his neck, Hongjoong could feel the rage building up inside of him, years of being humiliated, punished, slapped across the face, punched until he was tough enough not to shed a single tear, coming back to haunt him. The way he had been mistreated and still ignored, only for him to care now that he was this close to walking out the family home? That single thought was enough to push him off the edge and ironically, Hongjoong did the only thing his father ever taught him: he gave the first punch.

Things escalated quickly as they found themselves slammed to the coffee table, throwing punches until Hongjoong was finally kneeling on top of his dad, his fist like a machine that couldn’t be stopped, fury bursting through his veins as blood turned his knuckles into a complete red mess. It took him a while to realize someone was pulling him off his father’s limb body, San’s worried voice dragging him off his frenzy after he’d used his spare key to storm into the apartment following the worrying noises he had heard on his way back home.

“Holy fuck, Joong’ what have you done?” San was stunned by the sight of his best-friend’s father almost passed out on the floor, his face barely recognizable through the blood and bruises of what looked like a couple broken bones.

A little shaken, Hongjoong had curled himself against the couch, his knees to his chest as his entire body seemed to tremble out of absolute shock. Speechless, he remained silent for a while, rubbing his knuckles as it felt like they’d gone numb from punching repeatedly but when he expected any reaction from him, San watched as Hongjoong finally collected himself and stood up to look down on his father.

“I’m out of here- you hear me, asshole? I’m leaving this shithole of a place you call home! When I walk out that door, you won’t have a son anymore… And when you die, the sooner the better, I won’t shed a tear…” he paused, wiping a few drops of blood out the corner of his lips “ I hope you’re proud of me, Dad”.

❅❅❅

It was the middle of the night when Hongjoong and San hopped on the first bus to the nearest big city. In the darkness of the empty streets, they still looked like teenagers running away from home with their entire existence reduced into two backpacks, one filled with blood stained money they had gathered from Hongjoong’s living room floor, leaving his father behind in agony without a second look.

As the engine started running, Hongjoong couldn’t help but shake his knee out of nerves, one of the rare bad habits he had taken from his mother. Looking out the window as the town he had known his entire life disappeared, Hongjoong almost flinched as he felt his best-friend’s hand push down his knee, silently asking him to stop. Looking to his side and seeing him flash a grin, hope for a new beginning shining through San’s eyes as they entered a new life together, Hongjoong finally felt safe.

“Oh by the way, happy fucking birthday?” San joked as he realized it was past midnight.

Hongjoong had always hated his birthday, but this one was by far his happiest.

❅❅❅

The club was already packed - which was no surprise since Friday nights usually brought along a whole bunch of men gathered in groups and ready to celebrate payday the only way they knew how, with booze and tits.

Y/N was running late and while it wasn’t like she had a 9 to 5 job with a time clock, she just hated to fail at anything, that included her impeccable punctuality. One of her colleagues had once joked about the fact she would probably be 30 minutes early to her own funeral, which Y/N couldn’t even deny because, as the control freak she actually was, she knew everything would be planned from the color of her coffin to the choice of a caterer years before she would actually kick the bucket.

“You’re late” Y/N looked up to see Yunho’s worried look as he frowned through his glasses, the complete surprise of seeing her walking through the door past 8PM barely hidden.

“I know, sue me?” she joked while still walking towards the changing rooms as Yunho was quick to follow, hands filled with the run-through he was about to give to the rest of the girls, including his favorite, who ironically happened to be late that night.

“You know I’m not scolding you, right? Just surprised?”

“Pl-ease, you wouldn’t scold a pigeon if it shat all over your face, of course I know!” Though she was purposely exaggerating, Y/N couldn’t deny Yunho was by far the nicest man she had ever met in her entire life. While she was forced to interact with actual pigs six nights a week, having someone like Yunho around had definitely restored her faith in men.

When Yunho stopped her in her track to grab her hand, forcing her to spin around and face him, Y/N found herself once again thinking that maybe, sometimes, he was being way too nice for his own good.

“Are you okay? Is it your grandma? Do you need the night off?”

“I just missed the bus, Yunho… Can you stop worrying like a dad? You’re getting wrinkles and everything!” Y/N joked just so he would relax a little, her thumb pressing between his eyes where his skin had effectively turned into a wrinkle.

“Alright- do I get a kiss, then?” when his frown turned into a bright smile, Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him acting like a careless child over again. There was something pure and delightful about the way Yunho managed to compose himself. Through years of friendship, she had never seen him getting angry to the point he just couldn’t go back to his goofy self within a minute. Their bond was definitely unique as they often shared a kiss or some level of intimacy people would only find in a couple behind closed doors, but as he also remained her boss, Y/N always made sure no one ever caught them being this close. Being the boss’ favorite just didn’t strike her ego right, she wanted to be praised for her good work and popularity, not for sucking Yunho’s dick every other thursday.

She pecked him for a brief second after making sure no one was around and while the frustration was obvious on the face of a man who couldn’t hide his emotions, Yunho still settled for the tiniest bit of affection she allowed him. That’s how much he adored her.

“Okay girls- not that I want you to be nervous but I’ve been told the big boss is coming tonight, so put on your best stilettos, rise and shine if you want that big raise!” Yunho announced as soon as they walked into the changing rooms where all the girls had gathered to put on their best attires. After years of running a strip-club, Yunho had learned to remain completely unbothered by the amount of nudity he had to face on a daily basis. Everywhere around him, gorgeous girls were flashing their most intimate bits while he kept his eyes on his iPad, professional as ever.

The room went busier than ever as they all started to comment about what the big boss probably looked like, suggesting some balding man in his 50s with greasy skin and hairy fingers squeezed into golden rings like they were in some bad mafia movie from the 70s. Silence instantly followed Yunho’s voice when he eventually asked a volunteer for his table, everyone pondering whether it was a good idea to dance for the man in charge of their salary and risking their rent over a mistake or a bad performance. Suddenly, everyone had an excuse not to do it: a bachelor party, their favorite client, a fully-booked agenda… Anything not to face the man everyone had heard about but never met.

“I’ll do it?”

Yunho looked up for the first time, recognizing the voice through the buzzing sound of the room. Sitting in front of the mirror Y/N was applying a fair coat of bright red lipstick while smiling to her friend, the thought of a good challenge sparkling through her shiny eyes.

“Are you sure? I mean, he’s not gonna be alone… He’s always with his sidekicks…” Though he only meant well, Yunho just knew he sounded way too worried for a man whose job depended on his best girl giving the performance of a lifetime.

“You think I can’t handle a couple meanies?” she joked, poking her tongue through her teeth “...and what’s his name anyway?

❅❅❅

“ … Kim Hongjoong, you might want to remember his name”

San walked past the man he had just knocked out to the floor, abandoning his poor soul to the pavement for every other guest standing in the queue to see. Adjusting the front of his shirt, making sure to look immaculate, he flashed a flirty grin to the girl leading them to their table as soon as they entered the club.

“Did you have to break his nose?” Hongjoong sighed, once again the victim of his right-hand man’s impulsive behavior.

“I mean, the guy didn’t know your name? You fucking OWN the place? You think I’m gonna let him disrespect you like that?” clicking his tongue against his teeth while rolling his neck out of nerves, San couldn’t hide his frustration.

“That was pretty fucking funny though” Wooyoung’s laugh was muffled by the sound of music as they got carried further into the main room and to the VIP corner. The youngest of the three was typically hyping San up whenever he failed to compose himself. While Hongjoong always tried to keep his head high and found pride in their reputation, Wooyoung was like a puppy in a bowling alley, always cheering for a fight and laughing at people’s misery. Most of the time, Hongjoong found him endearing, like a child he had taken under his responsibility along the way but tonight, as he stepped into a club with his own name stamped on it, the boss had taken over the friend, hoping not to be completely embarrassed by his friends’ behavior.

As they sat in their booth, towering over the rest of the guests, Hongjoong found himself looking around while trying to empty his head of the burdening thoughts of a long day. San was actually the one suggesting for them to go out and check out the latest club he had bought, almost owning the city by now, and while he wasn’t exactly in a festive mood, Hongjoong had finally agreed, mostly because the sight of Wooyoung in front of some half-naked girls was always entertaining enough to steal a smile from his boss as he just couldn’t contain his excitement. The place looked cool, dimmed lights giving it some nice vintage boudoir vibes Hongjoong actually loved and while his meticulous eye could already catch a couple changes to be made, he had to admit Yunho was doing a good job at running this place.

Speaking of the Devil, Yunho showed up to their table like he had been summoned.

“Jeong! How’s life? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?”San joked, his body leaning into the booth like he was watching some daytime TV on his couch with no worries whatsoever.

“Hi, San, still a clown, I see?” Yunho smiled, way past his teenage fear of getting into a fight with a man whose fists could actually kill.

When San was about to spit back, Hongjoong stopped him with a single finger up, motioning for him to shut up as he leaned forward to bump fists with Yunho.

“This place looks good… You did well…”

“Thanks- doing my best!” Yunho tried his best to cover up the joy this praising had brought as his life was definitely ruled by his work ethic. To hear it from Hongjoong himself was something he definitely found pride in, as weird as it felt to have him as his boss considering the fact they shared a common background. While he didn’t approve of all of Hongjoong’s ways of living and the questionable business he ran on the side, Yunho couldn’t ignore his friend’s success and the major spin his life had taken ever since he had disappeared from their hometown, 6 years ago.

“Heard about your dad- I’m sorry” Yunho spoke again, his voice unsure as he knew that, above many things, his family was one thing Hongjoong hated to mention. Still, having known him for so long, it felt wrong not to talk about his father passing a couple days ago.

“What are you sorry for?” Hongjoong surprisingly replied, one of his eyebrows raised like he’d been told the most ridiculous thing ever.

“I mean, it’s your dad–”

“Couldn’t care less” Hongjoong stated like it was absolutely nothing, brushing the topic off like you would change it back to the weather or the most random piece of information.

“Why don’t you do your job and find us some good girls for the night?” San interrupted, quite visibly annoyed with Yunho’s puppy look and his typical way of feeling sorry for everyone.

“I’ve actually found the perfect girl for you guys, don’t worry about that” Yunho smiled though his heart was aching at the thought of Y/N having to deal with San’s bad manners.

“THE girl? As in… just one? What, you think we all share a bed or something?” San chuckled, his laugh covering up his building annoyance.

“You do know this is a strip-club, not a brothel? If you wanna fuck, I suggest you log onto Tinder or something–” Yunho’s snapback came as a surprise as the three men were at a loss for words. Having a good man like Yunho losing his patience felt like getting a nasty bite from the cutest puppy, shocking, but almost cute.

“Bro, that man owns the place, if he wants to fuck all of these girls, he will…” San smirked with the confidence of ten men, “what is it? Do you have a little crush? You don’t want us to play with your girlfriend?”.

“San- that’s enough” Hongjoong interrupted again, clearly frustrated with his friend by now. After a while, he finally reached for his credit card, handing it to Yunho.

“Open a tab for us, alright? and this…” reaching into the inside of his jacket, Hongjoong handed a thick pile of rolled-up cash as Yunho tried to mentally calculate so he would get a fair guess of the amount of money he was being given “... this is for the girl, if she works hard for us tonight, I’ll double it up”.

“Man she better have tits made of gold” Wooyoung chuckled at the ridiculous display of wealth happening in front of his eyes.

“She’ll double it up, I’m not worried about that” Yunho simply stated before he walked off. Soon enough, San’s restless comments and Wooyoung’s laugh were merely muffled sounds in the distance as the only thing he could hear was the blood thumping through his veins as he tightly wrapped his fist around the money that would sell his favorite girl to the devil.

... to be continued ♥ feel free to comment & feedback!

#kim hongjoong #ateez #hongjoong #smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjong smut #ateez smut #hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong ff #ateez fanfiction

[heavenlydevine]

Instinct ⇥ Toji Fushiguro.

Fandom ⇥ Jujutsu Kaisen.

Pairing ⇥ Toji Fushiguro x Female!Reader.

Summary ⇥ It was a mistake. A no good, terrible mistake, because being fucked into submission by your best friend’s dad was totally normal, right?

Warnings ⇥ Explicit Content. Language. Porn Without Plot. Rough Sex. Age Gap, though reader is in her early twenties. Corruption Kink. Breeding Kink, if you squint. Minors DNI.

I don’t think I did this man justice, but please keep in mind that I just recently got introduced to the Jujutsu Kaizen universe. Reviews and reblogs appreciated. Might post more content should this be received well, cause I really don’t think I did Toji justice.

You were a modest young woman that prided herself at being a law abiding citizen. You did as you were told and broke little to no rules, and yet now you knew that you could throw that goodie two shoes act right out the window.

It was a innocent little crush, never once entertaining the thought that your imagination would later turn into an earth shattering reality, but now, well you could honestly say that it wasn’t as innocent as you had previously assumed.

Guilt lingered at the forefront of your mind as you desperately sought to silence the atrocious sounds wheezing past your lips, and yet the firm grip tightening around your throat was warning enough that it was the last thing the behemoth above you wanted.

“I thought you said that you were a good girl,” he grunted against your skin, teeth nipping at your earlobe as a particular thrust of his hips dragged out a mewl from you, “—yet one look has you wrapped around my dick like a wanton little whore.”

Shaking your head from side to side as a wave of embarrassment flooded through your quivering body, the man above you merely laughed mockingly as he tutted in amusement, “I wonder what my son would think should he know that his daddy is fucking his pretty little friend like the whore she is.”

This was a mistake.

A terrible, no good, glorious mistake and yet regret pulsed at the forefront of your mind. This was not what you had in mind when you had agreed to help Megumi out with his science project, assuring you that his dad wouldn’t be home until later tonight—fat load of bullshit that was.

Because there you were, legs spread wide and being fucked into submission like there was no tomorrow. You weren’t a virgin by any means, having lost your innocence at the age of sixteen when your douchebag of a boyfriend had given you the trump card, if you love me, you’ll sleep with me.

“Cat got your tongue, princess? Am I not fucking you hard enough?” He was taunting you, pushing your limits as his thumb circled your clit in slow movements, driving you towards the brink of insanity, for it was at that moment that pure instinct took over, and without thought, your walls clenched around his cock.

“Fuck,” this gorgeous beast of a man grunts out, hissing through his teeth as he stares down at you heartedly, “—you fucking asked for this, princess.”

He is not gentle, but you are distinctively aware that you don’t mind the roughness as he yanks you off mahogany desk, lips smashing against your own as he gropes at you, squeezing you tighter, teeth nipping and tongue invading your mouth like a man drunk on ecstasy. Your hands push against his firm chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch and as you think that he had come to his senses that this was indeed a mistake, Toji Fushiguro pulls back and squeezes your cheeks firmly with his right hand, glaring down at you with a fury that makes you regret your brazen act of bravery, “I am about to ruin whatever little fantasy you have little girl, I hope this pussy can take what I’m about to give her.”

You can’t breathe.

You can’t move.

Not when his large hands pull you against his chest, forcibly turning you around so that your back was flush against his chest and his firm erection digging into your backside. “Bite on this,” it’s your soaked panties he shoves into your mouth as he pushes against your back, guiding you down to settle comfortably against the wooden desk, books and pens scattered about, “—don’t want to wake my son, now do you?”

You shake your head in denial, embarrassment shimmering in your eyes as you briefly glance towards the opposite side of the room, knowing that Megumi could come barging down the darkened hallway at any given moment. “Remember you asked for this.”

You try to recall how you had ended up in this position as you feel him knead your buttocks with his firm and rough fingers, pain erupting through your body as a hard smacks lands on both cheeks, and then he bottoms out within you, hitting your cervix in one single thrust—and for a moment you see stars, silently hoping that he’ll allow you a moment to collect your thoughts and yet the moment he pulls away, inch by inch, you know you are about to be ruined by your best friend’s dad.

He stretches you out completely at this angle, balls deep in your quivering pussy, grunting like a crazed animal as he sets out a punishing pace, fingers digging painfully into the supple flesh of your hips. “Fucking take it,” he murmurs hotly, cock sliding in and out of you with such ferocity that you fear he might break you.

But he knows you can take it.

You can feel a tingling sensation prickle at the top of your head, pulsing through your veins as euphoria threatens to consume you whole. Your moans are muffled by biting down on your soaked panties, yet still you could feel the embarrassing sensation of drool dripping down your chin, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you feel like bursting open like a balloon.

He raises a eyebrow, your words muffled, “What’s that, baby girl? Am I not fucking you right?” He taunts you with every drawn out thrust, pulling out until the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains within your quivering walls, only push back in with a firm snap of his hips, grunting at the sensation of you welcoming him home. “No, that’s not it, is it? You want me to cum inside this pretty pussy? Fill you up with my load until you can feel and taste nothing but me? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Stars dance across your vision as your fingers now grip the edge of the table, modesty flying out the window as you push back to meet him thrust for thrust, the tickling sensation of his hands abandoning their position on your hips to now gripping your shoulders, fingers running through your hair before gripping and pulling you back, “Want me to fill you? I bet you dreamt of this, didn’t you?”

He knows he has ruined you.

He acts purely on instinct now, pummelling into your tight heat with precision and focus, animalistic grunts wheezing past his lips as he gnashes his teeth together. “Come on baby, cum for me.” Your body responds to the command and your orgasm hits you from nowhere, legs trembling and arms shaking, Toji holds you firmly against his chest as he continues his assault, drilling into you at a furious pace.

And then with a grunt, teeth biting down harshly into the tender skin of your neck, you feel him pulse and throb deep within you, the sheer sensation of being filled to the brim sending you over the edge as another orgasm rocks through your body. “Fuck!”

You don’t care that Megumi might hear you, too preoccupied by being manhandled like a little whore. “You have two seconds to get your pretty little ass in that shower,” and then he leaves you to crumble, reality crashing down and swallowing you whole as you tumble down the rabbit hole, desperately trying to make sense of what happened.

Because being fucked into submission by your best friend’s dad was totally normal, right?

#toji headcanons #dilf toji #jjk toji #toji drabbles #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #Jujutsu Kaisen imagine #Jujutsu Kaisen #Anime Imagine #Jujutsu Kaisen Toji #Reader Imagine #Toji Fushiguro Smut

[y0d00p]

i was trying to think of

why SDDD and DMK would appear after Triple Deluxe events (i know noncanon side story mode whatever) if neither of them had anything to do with Taranza and Sectonia and

what the deal is with DMK being "sealed [...] for aeons"

as a reminder of my headcanons:

the Dimension Mirror is a relic holding a pocket dimension originally made to seal Dark Mind who was an artificially created Zero (clone?) that got out of control. it is separate from whatever mirror(s) are used as portal(s) between Mirror World and Prime World

the Mirror was entrusted and passed down a long line of ancients -> royals eventually coming into possession of Mirror World Sectonia (Carmine)

long story short Dark Taranza married Carmine to get access to the Mirror for its supposed wish granting ability, shattered her to get her out of the way, then (inadvertently?) released Dark Mind and set off the events of Amazing Mirror

so, jumping off of that, my thoughts are

Dark Mind is defeated and while it was killed off for good it left behind some... evil... inside the mirror. evil residue. this is the influence that would eventually facilitate Sectonia's corruption

DMK was shattered inside the Mirror/pocket dimension, and I suppose became trapped in there, perhaps as a result of Dark Mind's death? (he became its new prisoner??)

up until at least post-Triple Deluxe DMK is trapped in the Mirror, meaning I guess he is not present for Mirror World Canvas Curse, Squeak Squad, Epic Yarn, Mass Attack, and Return to Dream Land, if those events did happen and if we go by order of release date. for the record Carmine also remains shattered and hidden somewhere until at least post-Triple Deluxe

aeons...? I'm gonna headcanon that while that IS an exaggeration (holy longer than you think dad batman!??!!), perhaps there is some time dilation going on that made DMK's imprisonment longer than it was outside the Mirror

a hundred (or whatever) years completely alone in an empty dark labyrinth saturated with the ghost of a dead evil fake god can't be good for your mental health. i would attack the first dude i saw as soon as i got out too. also, if he DID ever speak with Sectonia, he probably was not a good influence, due to all that

so... why SDDD then? well completely ignoring the fact that he appears from The Mirror at the start of his battle we can say that SDDD was there to take the fucking precious evil relic back because it's dangerous and stolen and DMK is in there. SK probably joined SDDD we just didn't see him don't worry about it

in conclusion: DMK just keeps Going Through It

#kirby #dark meta knight #shadow dedede #dark mind #sectonia #i guess #shadow kirby is mentioned once #dart is there

[punkeropercyjackson]

What a fantastic day to remind everyone that no romantic m/f duo parallel Miles and Gwen as much as Nico and Percy do-Keyword being romantic,since the latter are found sibling soulmates in every universe-because:

Nico and Miles are autistic boys with transmasc swag who're super soft and nerdy,fast food lovers,optimistic despite all the nonstop bullshit life throughs at them and way more powerful than they look,act and believe themselves to be

Percy and Gwen are pastel punk trans girls who're also autistic and super snarky with anger issues but also total sweeties,rock music lovers,have shitty corrupted dads and were framed for a crime they didn't commit at a big turning point in their story

And the younger one met them while attending a weird school they didn't fit in at and instantly developed crushes on them over thinking they were THE COOLEST EVER and how nice they were to them only making them grow and the older one was there because they're part of the new world they were about to join

After the beginner stage that included their older relative getting murdered in the line of fire,they were seperated for a whole year and missed eachother deeply while being literal world's apart(Respective dimensions/Earth and The Underworld)until one of them visited to the other's room for world saving bussiness and they welcomed them in with open arms and led them to the party their Mamí was hosting to give them food as they spent the second they arrived having catching up convos that moved onto hero talk too

Then Nico and Gwen worried about what their monster's of 'father's' would do but for the time being they were just happy to be with Percy and Miles again and they were happy to have them back too as their buried love for eachother grew stronger over the course of their second adventure together

Only to 'betray' them due to having no other choice and just trying to help them and being upset at only themself for it because they knew their other half was right to be angry at them for hiding things and them eventually understanding that too after lashing out in justified hurt and angry that they regreted afterwards anyways

And repaired their best friendhood afterwards thanks to apologies,healthy communication,going back to having fun and fighting together again and the shatterment of the idealized versions of eachother they made up in their heads making them properly appreciate eachother,all of which they managed by breaking canon itself and undooming of their narratives(Miles refusing to let bad things happen because he knows canon events are stupid and inspiring Gwen to do the same in Beyond/Rick insisting that the og Dead Sea Siblings hate eachother now only for it to be obvious even to Percy antis that they see eachother as siblings and mom and son)

#AMAZING!!!! #siblings!ghost flower #nico and percy #miles morales #gwen stacy #trans gwen stacy #nico di angelo #percy jackson #persephone jackson #transfem percy jackson #black nico di angelo #black gwen stacy #black percy #latino percy #autistic miles #autistic nico di angelo #autistic percy jackson #pastel punk percy jackson #team mom percy jackson #gamer nico #disabled nico di angelo #transmasc miles #trans nico di angelo #catgirl gwen tag #gamer gwen #atsv #spiderman #pjo #💌 #summerposting

[astriiformes]

Throwing meta thoughts at the wall here because I was musing on the fact that a lot of my favorite stories these days (TOH, Pentiment, the Locked Tomb series) are all at least a little bit about grief. But one interesting thing The Owl House specifically did with Luz and Belos was make both their stories about grief and mourning, but in the opposite directions.

I love stories where the protagonist and the antagonist are both grappling with the same question or difficult experience but differ drastically from each other in their answers to it. And in both Luz and Philip's/Belos' cases, that experience is the loss of a family member, and their relationship to the Boiling Isles is defined by that grief.

Belos sees the Boiling Isles as a corrupting force that needs to be eliminated because in his eyes, they're the thing that lead his brother astray. He probably would have had a problem with them regardless, since his fervently held religious beliefs are the other source of his antagonism towards witches -- and of course, the real source of the rift between him and Caleb. But they clearly became a scapegoat for his brother's running away and abandoning their world, as well as the reason he decided the Isles had to be destroyed at any cost.

And he never processes that grief. He creates the grimwalkers instead, killing them when they echo that original loss and trapping himself in a cycle where he never actually mourns, just tells himself he'll get it right the next time and finally have his brother back -- all the while projecting that same loss onto the Boiling Isles and letting it fester into an even worse bitterness towards everyone there in his attempts at genocide.

Luz, meanwhile, associates the Boiling Isles with her dad, who encouraged her interest in fantasy and even left her the Azura books, which were one of the primary reasons she decided to stay and learn how to be a witch. To her the Isles represent someone she loved, and now almost has a piece of back. Her wonder at everything there -- and her finding belonging and other people who love her, which she was clearly longing for after her dad's death -- is in part a wonder at rediscovering a happiness that had shattered when Manny died. Of course she ends up wanting to do anything to protect them.

We even see Luz try to suppress her own grief, which is probably part of why she worries she's too much like Belos -- she can see echoes of her own fears in his, even if they both have different relationships with them. But ultimately his story is one about going insane and destroying himself with unprocessed grief -- and an unwillingness to admit his own part in his pain -- whereas hers is about coming to terms with it, as well as with the guilt that comes from not always being able to protect the people you love from harm. It's one reason her conversation with the Titan is so lovely, because it's her simultaneously talking to a dad who never got to have a relationship with his own child and her talking to the Isles that gave her back some of the same joy as her own dad, as well as the courage to remember him the way he would have wanted.

And of course, both their mourning narratives are accentuated by the Collector, who has no real concept of grief and ends up learning about loss as a result of Belos' attempt to destroy the Boiling Isles clashing with Luz's attempts to save it. His confusion about death ties both their narratives together at the end, which works perfectly for an antagonist-turned-protagonist -- something that's really driven home by Luz and Philip's first "chronological" interaction occurring in large part because Luz offered to help him find the Collector in the first place.

I just!!!! It's about loss it's about grief it's about spying someone in the mirror that's almost-you-but-not-quite it's about learning to tell the difference and to be better than them even if you still understand something of the shape of what made them the way they are, about how misery is easy and hope is hard, especially when the world has taken something load-bearing away from you, but one is poison and the other is ultimately healing.

It's about grief and about how it can be the end of you or the beginning of a whole new story.

#every day i rotate themes around inside my head #f: us weirdos have to stick together

[starfxkr]

when i picture the megachurch heiress n rafe dynamic i almost picture it starting off as an arranged marriage situation - not quite married yet but set to 🤔

how do you think the 2 met?

you also did compare her to sansa stark n we know how she got after everything - do you think as the situation w rafe and all the corruption w the megachurch gets progressively worse that she goes from being inwardly soft to ig cold?

-🐰

rafe sort of arranges the marriage like he forces it as a bargain by telling her dad "I won't crumble this whole empire if you let me have your daughter." so womp she's served up on a silver platter. they absolutely know each other already though. like her family is cameron rich and they had a lot of shifting dealings that she was unaware of

and when she tries her best to maintain a sense of normalcy when she finds out but it shatters her whole sense of self. she becomes really withdrawn and melancholic after

#✨.txt #rafe cameron prompt #lamb!reader #🐰 anon

[imagine--if]

Could you write something where the reader is a chronically online watcher of the Riddler stream and falls in love with him despite the fact that he's a literal terrorist and they have a really sweet online chat with each other and decide to meet irl? Thank you!!

A/N: So I’ve got a few requests for dad!riddler hcs.. u guys up for that? 😅💚 side note: by the end of this month I’ll be able to catch up on a lot more matchups/earlier requests/To My Hope since I’ll have a laptop by then 🙃 thanks for all the requests and ur patienceeee

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Fluff, stalker stuff (reader’s a bit unhinged 🥰 )

•❥ Gotham is a near-hopeless city for you, always dark and gloomy and selfish, full of corrupt people in power. So you most likely found The Riddler through his streams after trying to find advice on how to cope with it or something, and once you saw and heard the impact the mystery man is gonna make and his sinister way of describing the world, you were hooked.

•❥ You try commenting advice on stuff he mentions or asks for, and are borderline obsessed with everything he’s doing. Even though the dude’s a literal murderer, you think that the immoral people he’s targeting deserve it.

•❥ What you didn’t expect was for The Riddler to message you privately after him as Edward Nashton saw you drop a notebook or something with his iconic question mark symbol drawn on or as sticker as you rushed out the diner one evening…

•❥ He sent a riddle where the answer was loyalty when you first chatted, and you being you got it right, which cussed his reply to be: > Clever thing, aren’t you? There aren’t enough people like you in a cesspool such as this... >

•❥ Which led to you basically telling him your life story and answering how you ended up in Gotham in the first place, you’re flattered and kinda shook because The Riddler’s talking to you?!? He’s interested in you????

•❥ Little do you know that Edward Nashton has literally grown obsessed with who you are: so pure and pretty, but with the perfect attitude to life as you aren’t blind to the disgusting stuff of the city that makes it so unbearable.

•❥ With not a lot of time The Riddler sometimes let’s you preview the traps and locations he’ll be catching his victims - and even The Batman once - in. The ominous green sprayed messages on the walls, codes and the like. It’s fascinating and amazing to you, horrific to anyone else.

•❥ You usually speak to The Riddler through his special site, but you don’t quite realise that he’s hacked into the camera of your laptop and tracks the location of your phone 😏 he’s not so much a psycho stalker, more of an overprotective soft yandere who makes sure none of the scum get to you and you can see everything in the front seat while chaos erupts. You’re his new inspiration 💚 he’s even sneakily mentioned ‘A new hope’ in one of his lives, but never gives too much away, he’s careful.

•❥ Even though The Riddler trusts you to a pretty large extent by now, he’s still somewhat insecure that the idea that you have of him might be shattered by actually revealing his face and meeting up in person, but you assure him again and again that you could never think badly of him one bit, he’s your hero 😍

•❥ Edward loves that idea

•❥ You do eventually end up meeting though, just before he goes ahead with the final Batman plans for Gotham, and he’s really a lot like you expected… a little nerdy and blushy for someone who screams in a crazed rage and bashes peoples’ heads in, but looks can be extremely deceiving

•❥ You got your first kiss from a very bashful and overexciting Eddie Nashton that night, you could see the madness and overbearing love in his green eyes.

•❥ “I’ll clean up the city for you… my clever thing~”

•❥ Damn, I hope you’re ready for the relationship you just signed up for, cus now you’re The Riddler’s partner in love (and possibly crime) he’s gonna treat you in such a beautiful and crazily clingy way….

•❥ 😍😍

.・ Taglist: ・.

@sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @r4iner @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @vaylordd @dangerouslittlefairy @katjourno @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @callsigncrash @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

#edward nashton x reader #dano!riddler x reader #the riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #dano riddler x reader #riddler x reader #yandere riddler x reader #danonation #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #edward nashton #dano!riddler #paul dano #edward nashton imagine #edward nashton fluff #edward nashton fanfiction #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #dano!riddler fluff #dano!riddler imagine #the riddler fanfiction #the riddler fluff #the riddler imagine #riddler fluff #riddler fanfic #riddler imagine #paul dano characters #paul dano movies #paul dano fanfic #the batman

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

13, for the Spotify wrapped promt

Thank you!!!! I am still taking prompts for this ask game: #13 is Neighborhood #1 (tunnels) by Arcade Fire:

And if my parents are crying / Then I'll dig a tunnel / From my window to yours / Yeah, a tunnel / From my window to yours

Her hands are shaking as she picks the phone up off the line. She knows the feel of the chipped plastic like the back of her hand, the way the chord slithers against her wrist as she tries to look down at the phone to dial. Her instincts are always wrong now – first to look and then to feel. Luckily, she pushes the familiar number in by rote and waits for the ringing to stop.

Max Mayfield (née Hargrove) thought things were supposed to get better once that née was penned in ink. But maybe that’s not really for when your step brother dies horribly and your step father can’t cope so he drives off into the sunset, thanks a lot, fuck you very much. Maybe it doesn’t count when the only living Mayfield left is in the living room slurring her words around the sounds of bottles breaking. 

The phone stops ringing; Max listens to the staticky buzzed breathing flowing through the line, up through telephone wires, bringing them together in real time. “Max?” El says happily. 

“Hey,” Max says, casually. Or, as casually as someone who’s crying and is pretending she’s not can be.

The line is quiet for a moment beyond El’s quiet breathing. “Are you okay?” she says, pausing after each word like she’s choosing them carefully.

“Totally,” Max says, rolling her eyes, like it’ll carry over the phone. She’s cool. She’s casual. She’s cool, casual Max Mayfield who isn’t standing blind in her kitchen while her mom isn’t drunk in the other room. 

As if to contradict her, there’s the sound of glass shattering on linoleum. Max’s shoulders hunch, and she sucks in a startled breath, waiting to see if the sounds will grow louder. Nothing else comes.

“I will come get you,” El says. 

Max sniffles, just once as she wipes her eyes and runny nose on the sleeve of her flannel. “Sure, totally,” she says. Calm. Casual. “We can have a girl’s day. I’ll paint your nails, and we’ll rate boys from my mom’s cosmo.”

El puffs air into the receiver, like she’s stifling her laugh. “Yes, I will describe what their faces look like.”

Max scoffs. “Who cares about their faces?”

This time, El laughs for real, the one where she snorts like a pig at the end. Max smiles, reaches up her hand to feel the shape of it as she listens to her best friend squeal.

“I will come now,” El says. Max imagines her, standing in her own kitchen the same way Max is, nodding like she’s on a secret mission with dire importance, eyebrows furrowed, face serious. Max does a lot of imagining nowadays. “It is time for a girl’s day.”

“What?” It’s muffled, far away from the receiver, and unmistakably Mike Wheeler’s squirrelly ass. “I thought we were hanging out!”

El scoffs, and Max feels a little curl of pride unfurl in how well she’d corrupted El in such a short amount of time. “There is more to life than dumb boys, Mike.”

“Hey!”

“I will be there soon, Max,” El says. “Dad will drive me.”

She hangs up, not even waiting for a reply. Max is still smiling, teeth and all. Even as her Mom mumbles incoherently in the next room. Even as she has to find her way out of the trailer by trailing her fingertips along the wall. Even then.

There’s nothing like a girl’s day. 

#spotify wrapped fanfic ask prompt #asks #this whole song is about elmax tbh #max mayfield #jane hopper #it's fun to match up the songs with characters! and then of course the Situation