#i got so carried away im not even sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

1,644 Tumblr posts in 1 second.

#i got so carried away im not even sorry

good-beans · 6 months

Text

YES thank you @kyanako5972 for your service 😤👏 (I was actually looping them both for a bit but I keep forgetting to run it lately ah...)

And hehe I have been ✨enabled ✨Have some Triage thoughts, and feel free to add your own!!

Starting off with my main praise of the song: “I want to be Innocent, I want to live.” I know the point of milgram is that all the characters are going to get worse, but I feel like this video is the first t2 song we’ve seen a prisoner get better. (People have talked about his savior complex being an issue but that’s coming after the inno verdict, in Triage he specifically says he never wanted this to be some kind of hostage situation where he has the power to save/kill people.) This is when we can finally see one of our verdicts go right. The others had an issue, or creeping guilt, or uncertainty, but Shidou gets over any uncertainty right then and there – he wants to live again!! In a series so full of death, in which half of the cast makes some reference to suicidal thoughts, plus two victims who did commit suicide, there’s something extremely profound about seeing one of them change their mind onscreen. We hadn’t gotten a moment of healing like that before, and I doubt we’re ever going to get one again.

The moment itself is shown very accurately and beautifully, in my opinion. His expression when he makes his statement about wanting to live is so unique. It’s not a smile, it’s not a grimace, it’s something in between. His voice is strained, but set. He’s not excited about it – when you’re in that mental place, it isn’t a cheery switch to wanting to live, it’s a grit-your-teeth and pick yourself up and make the tough choice. It’ll be so, so hard but by god you have a job to do. It made sense, given all the previous mentions of him helping Fuuta and Mahiru – he had a lot of complicated feelings about being a doctor, but he remembered that saving others really is his purpose in life.

And then the shock factor. Because of that moment and the family reveal, I think this video had the biggest twist of t2. The others had surprises, sure, but they were hinted at in the voice clips and vds, or they just exaggerated things we already knew about the characters. I was completely blindsided by Triage. Everything leading up to it paralleled Shidou with Mahiru, so I thought it was just a lover he’d lost (and maybe someone he’d just met or something). He had his moments with Amane, but I always assumed it was because of her connection to him, not vice versa. I assumed he was just overdramatic and killing people for some lady he’d fallen for, and then decided to take the easy way out and ask for death. So to find out he had a fully established family, wife and two kids??? To see his main character trait from season one was completely reversed??? (but in a way that wasn’t at all forced???)

Now, it’s much easier to make a character unlikable than it is to redeem them. We saw how quickly the fandom turned on certain characters, we felt pangs of horror for many of them. But it’s very difficult to make someone like a character they’d previously despised. Which is why I’m insanely impressed with the way those three minutes could undo months of my hatred toward Shidou, and bring me literally to tears over him. Suddenly his actions weren’t so selfish, as rash. He’s not taking the coward’s way out. He had incredibly good reason to do what he did, and now he’s taking accountability and choosing to face pain in order to atone. I’ll add more in a sec, but it’s not even that the video shows him as this perfect saint. Without holding back on everything he’d done wrong, it conveyed a real, grieving human that really moved me.

Of course the music itself was amazing – Shugo Nakamura sounds incredible. I don’t know too much about actual music structure, but the tone of both Shidou’s songs manages to be so fun and relaxing while simultaneously filling you with that profound sadness. It’s like an embodiment of his peaceful, sad smile. There’s something so human about his voicemail message, and it’s unique hearing different types of speaking parts in a song! But that moment is also foreboding. You wonder why he missed the call, and who’s calling, and you kind of already know, and you hear the three beeps as the line is dead. Then there’s the gut-wrenching return of those sounds, with the added visuals bringing to mind a dying heart?? Insane.

And lastly, the visuals are gorgeous. Bringing back the flower/pomegranate symbolism in a similar but new way was perfect. The bright scenery and picturesque scenes really emphasized how happy he was. The video is so bright. His family is gorgeous, they’re happy. His neighborhood is sunny and warm. His house is comfortable and light. Which meant the dark scenes contrasted perfectly, driving home how jarring his loss was. And despite all the good things I said about him before, the video isn’t actually trying to paint him in an innocent light. There are literal graveyards behind him, showing how much blood is on his hands. The rotting food is such a disgustingly painful way to show what he was doing to people. He handed the tag directly to his son, showing full accountability: he gave his son his fate, he killed him himself. The images seem beautiful at first, especially compared to AKAA’s dark, bloody rooms, Backdraft’s grim tunnel, and INMF’s monstrous bees. But no matter how lovely it looks, it successfully conveys a truly horrendous crime.

In conclusion Shidou my fucking beloved. Go watch Triage again :3

#milgram #shidou kirisaki #i hope you dont mind the tag but ty!#LMAO im so sorry for the ramblings 😅#this video is genuinely so special to me and as always i got carried away talking about it adfsdf #i can admit my initial sympathy to him was biased by being in a tight mental spot right when it came out #so to hear him speak those lines actually made me cry oops #but even being distanced from that mental state i have such a strong appreciation for the whole thing #although i might call some other songs my favorites no other video had such an effect on me #i sat down and immediately wrote a fic about it #then i wrote (and sang??) translyrics to it that im still really proud of #and it can still get me really emotional no matter how many bazillion times ive listened throughout the months #just an amazing mv #rose posts

25 notes · View notes

iridescentis · 1 year

Text

Something I realised quite recently is how much my views of Girl Meets World changed as I got older and how much more critical I am of it now.

I went from saying "everyone who says the Maya becomes Riley plotline doesn't make sense is stupid" to "Yep that plotline made no sense"

When I was Maya's age I thought her relationship with Josh was adorable and once I got to Josh's age I immediately went absolutely the fuck not

I think such a big appeal of GMW canon comes from a younger perspective, at least for me, and now I'm older I have a much more canon critical viewpoint of the show.

#one thing that never changed tho #i have never and will never understand the appeal of rucas #i just can't #there's just nothing there #i never shipped lucaya but i kind of understand where people are coming from with that #but rucas...#not so much #nothing beats rilaya that's all im saying #ALSO where the fuck did people get riarkle from??#like that pairing didn't even occur to me until i was in the gmw fandom #it still makes no sense #I AM A FIRM BELIEVER IN SMARKLE #I DON'T CARE IF YOU THINK THEY ARE BORING #SMARKLE HAVE MY WHOLE HEART YOU CAN ALL FUCK OFF #im sorry i got carried away there #i put way too much ranting in my tags #i need to be stopped #girl meets world

24 notes · View notes

lollytea · 2 years

Note

aside from their belief that abomination has better oportunities i like to think that they discouraged plant track because she is obviously so good the Head coven witch will want to train her herself but the thought of Terra near their baby terryifies them to no end.

She gets home wearing the plant track uniform and Harvey almost passes out

I believe in my heart of hearts that on the day Harvey and Gilbert met at that young witch program, they wandered out of it like

"I never want to see another plant spell for as long as I live."

"Agreed."

WELL SURPRISE LADS

I figure that they didn't even know the extent of Willow's interest in plant magic nor how powerful she really was in that area. They knew she was somewhat good at it but like. Lots of witchlings pick up various spells as kids before they're seriously trained in their designated track, so they really didn't think much of it.

And ever since Willow was a baby, she was always planned to go into the abomination track. Willow always knew this too. As she was growing up, they would say it to her in passing and Willow was always like "okay cool :)" because her Dads made it sound like the best track ever and also she had no idea how bad at it she was yet. So for her, Hexside and the abomination track have always been linked in her mind because this is what shes been told she would study. Plant magic was like....a hobby I guess?? And because she was so young, she didn't really understand that because she was so passionate about it, she should really try to pursue it further.

And then once she enrolled in Hexside and began studying abomination magic, THIS is when she started to realize that she desperately wanted to be in the plant track instead. However, she never vocalised this desire. Due to her poor confidence, Willow was such a people pleaser. She didn't want to disappoint her Dads after they spent so long hyping up this track. And no matter how terrible she was, they never stopped encouraging her, certain that she would eventually improve if she just had enough support. But this only made her feel worse and she now believed that anything other than improving her grades in this chosen track would prove her to be a failure.

So like Harvey and Gilbert have barely thought about Terra Snapdragon in years and would prefer not to but also they've never seen any reason to think about her in regards to their daughter because as far they've always assumed, she was meant for abominations. BUT YEAH Harvey sees those green sleeves and once he's updated on what the fuck is going on, all of the memories flood back and he's like

"NOT THE CRAZY BITCH'S COVEN???"

#they convince themselves its fine. they dont know for certain if willow will even interact with terra that much #like harvey has probably met darius like twice #but at least darius is NORMAL #im sorry i think i rambled several paragraphs about things that were not in the ask #i know i started off on topic but i got carried away #i have a lot of headcanons about this willow abomination arrangement can you tell #anyway i figure on the day willow switches tracks she and her dads have a honest conversation about #the expectations and pressure they have unknowingly put on her #and they try to be better from now on #so they switch their aggressive support of her to her plant studies instead

55 notes · View notes

kagejima · 2 years

Note

Back with my regularly scheduled Bokuto nonsense. This time, I’m thinking about how he’d take you in the locker rooms after winning an intense match. And as he’s fucking you, he’d whisper in your ear “Why are you so quiet baby, you had no problem screaming my name for two hours at the game”.

WENDY TOLD ME TO GO FUCK MYSELF BRINGING SHUGO INTO THIS 🥵🥵🥵🥵

okay hold on i need a second... alright let's see

Okay.... JESUS. this is the ask that broke me, i swear to god.

So Shugo is sitting there on the bench, his cock in his hand.... You and Bo don't know what to do,,,,, neither of you were expecting this. Everybody else in MSBY has got their ears pressed to the fucking door bc now it's D E A D silent in the locker room and they wanna know what the fuck is happening.

Bo is still inside you and he feels you suddenly clench around him because you're watching Shugo stroke his cock, and Bo grunts because he was so close to coming until Shugo interrupted you two, and literally a n y movement is going to be the end of him, he knows it.

Shugo knows he has you in a chokehold though, because you haven't taken your eyes off of him stroking his cock, and he takes this opportunity to bring his other hand down to his fat balls and he plays with them.

you clench around kotaro so hard that kotaro tilts his head back and moans so loud that one of the members from msby jumps away from the door

"Sh- shit... bunny, st-stop doing that..." Kotaro whines into your neck.

you whimper out an apology as kotaro carefully carries you over to the bench that shugo is sitting on.

"Oh, so does this mean I can join?" Shugo smiles, but Kotaro only glares at him.

"No, you just get to watch..." Kotaro hisses as you slide back down on his cock and cling to him.

"Fair," Shugo laughs, "I did interrupt you after all..."

"Taro..." You moan quietly to get his attention, "Taro, it's not comfy...."

Your legs ache in the awkward position on the bench and Kotaro mumbles an apology as he eases himself out of you

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Shugo asks Kotaro, he's lazily fucking his fist, the wet sloppy sounds of his precum covering his cock making your whole body shimmer with need.

"Shut UP!" Kotaro snaps. His voice is angry but his hands are warm and careful as he guides you so you're on all fours on the bench.

Shugo swings one of his legs over the bench so he's straddling the bench now and facing you.

"Mmm, there's that gorgeous face," Shugo smiles down at you.

You don't have time to react though because Kotaro is already pushing back into you, this time with a little less care because you shouldn't be focusing on Shugo, you should be focusing on him.

Your mouth makes the most delicious little O shape and Shugo's cock throbs in turn.

Kotaro's pace is far from gentle now, your whole body being forced forward because he's slamming into you.

"God, babygirl, you look so cute," Shugo groans, "It's a shame he won't let me have some fun too..."

Shugo takes this opportunity to lean back a little bit, bringing his cock closer to your face since your face is almost level with it now.

The scent of him is intoxicating and it makes your mouth water as his hand moves again now.

Kotaro's pounding into you now, his body colliding into yours, trying to get you to pay attention to him, but you're too far gone.

You can't help yourself and on shaky hands, you lift yourself up just enough and bring your face closer to Shugo's cock.

"Pl--Please..." You whimper.

He's so close you can almost taste him.

"It's not my decision to make, angel. You have to ask him." Shugo reminds you.

You cry out, desperate to have him in your mouth, his cock bullying it's way down your throat, but Kotaro grabs you by the hips and pulls you back to where he is on the edge of the bench.

His name falls from your lips as he lifts you up and holds you open on display for Shugo as you put an arm around Kotaro's neck to hold yourself steady and Kotaro's hands hold on to your thighs.

"Did you forget who you belonged to?" Kotaro growls in your ear, his thick cock accentuating a particularly hard thrust with every word.

You shake your head wildly, knowing you've done it now. Kotaro was getting better at holding in his jealousy, but sometimes it peeked out every now and again.

"This is mine..." Kotaro grunts, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as he thrusts at a brutal pace now.

"Look at him when you come," Kotaro commands you, and you struggle to keep your eyes open, you bouncing wildly on Kotaro's cock now.

You manage to force your eyes open, your facial expression twisted from the brutality of Kotaro and the sight of Shugo smirking as he continues to stroke his cock.

Shugo lets go of his cock and you watch as he pays special attention to the head of it, a long string of precum connecting his cock to his fingers as he lifts his hand further up.

You wail Shugo's name when you finally come.

#LMAOOOO IM NOT EDITING THIS RIGHT NOW ILL FIX TYPOS LATER #byeeeeeeEEEEEEE I GOTTA GO THROW MYSELF INTO THE SUNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fic recs #YEAH I RECOMMENED MY OWN FIC AND WHAT OF IT????#i want shugo and bo to fuck me so fucking bad im not even joking #THE FUCKING DREAM DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!#i got carried away and i am not even sorry

44 notes · View notes

crowdsourcedloner · 10 months

Text

okay so nailah has a whole ~thing~ about people using her name and how she’s perceived so here’s the long explanation/story about it (covers pre-arr up through the end of base arr)

(it gets heavy - this is your warning. also ~1k words. sorry.)

As a kid, her mother Tasya would rarely use Nailah’s name, choosing instead to just call her “girl” or “child” the majority of the time. In the very rare times she’d praise her daughter, Tasya would say it quietly, and only ever in private. Nailah internalized the idea that a name is a vulnerable thing - something delicate, reserved only for people one deeply trusted. She projected this rule on others as well, picking up the habit of calling people by their job or title on the few occasions she was allowed to speak.

Once Nailah’s started having visions, she lost the privilege of having a name. Tasya immediately switched to referring to her with insults, ranging from “thing” to “half-mad beast” to “disappointment” and the like. Nailah’s potential was mourned far more than her presence was tolerated. The rejection and denial carved a weeping hole in her heart, and she spent an incredible amount of effort trying to be good enough again for Tasya. It never was.

After her mother finally abandoned her, she wandered nameless through the wilds. She thought of herself as a wild, half-mad beast, fit only to scavenge the very fringes of society. Yet when she’d encounter a stranger in the woods and they’d ask her name she never knew how to respond. Should she admit to her brokenness? Tell them she was a monster? Someone better left forgotten? She settled on simply being called “wanderer” - it was the truth, if anything. A mask to hide how she saw herself. She quickly realized it could be used to set people’s expectations of her on her own terms.

Once the wanderer discovered she could manufacture a social mask, she took up the mantle of the mercenary. She kept to remote villages, appearing and disappearing as suddenly as the wind, often only noticed by news of some local threat being quelled. Few people recognized her, and fewer still heard her speak. She hid as much of herself as she could, staying hidden under a thick cloak of silence and only answered to her moniker. She thought nobody could reject her if she rejected herself first, but her relentless visions haunted her. She felt, through other’s hearts, the warmth of lovers greeting one another, the affection in well worn childhood nicknames, the joys of long lost friends reuniting. The aching loneliness she was so used to grew more overwhelming with every vision. Was this truly what she wanted? To be forgotten and alone? Who was she really, hiding under her mask?

She wandered town after town, road after road, using her title as a statement of being. She was just a Mercenary. Little more than a weapon to be pointed at a problem. People were kept at an arms length distance with professional ease, and she could still be useful to those she came across. There was comfort for her in how simple it all seemed, though simplicity was a poor answer to her loneliness. Every solitary morning she drowned in silence, every new horizon was greyed by her sorrow. She stopped trying to answer the cloying doubts that clung to her, their despair staining her thoughts more than she could bear. Who was she, under everything? She gave herself one last chance - go to the closest city and try to find an answer - or fade away, lost and forgotten.

Ul’dah held much more than just an answer for her, though she didn’t know it at the time. The adventurer’s guild asked for a name - she told them Nailah. She couldn’t remember where she heard it. Familiar as it was, she refused to let anyone call her such. She was Mercenary. Adventurer. The name was a formality, nothing more. It wasn’t a mask she wanted to use. Much to her displeasure, the guild used her name frequently enough for it to become common knowledge among their clients.

When the Scions took notice of her abilities, she asked the same comfortable distance of them she was so used to. In response the Scions gave her their names - Thancred, Yda, Minfilia - and she couldn’t understand. Why tell a simple mercenary the names of Scions? Did she not deserve scorn for her visions? The visions have a name? Their responses were acceptance and support and Nailah could not understand. She called them by titles instead - Scholar, Scion, Antecedent - though her echo didn’t let her miss the disappointment they felt. She tightened her masks and hid behind a new one, one given by those who accepted the mercenary - the Warrior of Light.

Tales of the Warrior triumphing over Titan and Garuda spread through Eorzea like wildfire. Her new allies respected the distance she desired, though they had the odd habit of confiding their worries to her. The Warrior supposed she made a good listener, quiet as she was. Would they listen to her? Should she risk that vulnerability? She didn’t know what answer she hoped for anymore. She didn’t know what she would say. She kept her silence.

Her mask started to chafe. Strangers made assumptions about who she was, remarking they expected her to be bigger or a man. Few expected her to be as quiet as she was. Fewer still, a mage. She felt choked by their expectations - who she was wasn’t what they seemed to want. The desire to abandon her masks and nascent bonds writhed inside her whenever she heard new voices. What more did she need to do? Was the Warrior not enough for them? Scions noticed her frustration, offering short words of encouragement. She did her best to listen.

Once the Ultima Weapon was destroyed, she took a look at herself. The Scions - Papalymo, Yda, Urianger - stood by her every step they could. Did they not deserve to see who their Warrior was? One quiet morning, once everything was moved to Mor Dhona, The Warrior met Minfilia in her solar for possibly the most terrifying request of her life - she asked her first new friend to call her by name.

Nailah.

As long as they were in the solar. Alone. Where nobody else could hear.

It was a start, at least.

#its nailahposting hours #cw abuse #cw depression #just to be safe #for everything surrounding her mother is not healthy #nailah's got some rough mental health stuff goin on but i dont know how much i want to go into it >.>#mostly out of fear of missing a cw tag #sorry this is so long ;-;#cecil gets carried away talking about blorbos ;-;#idk im just fascinated by the concept of identity #if you can't tell i have a lot of fic ideas surrounding nailah's struggle with identity - every paragraph is a potentially different fic #i might expand on this even more (re: hw through ew identity thoughts) but she's through the worst of her issues by the end of arr #...i'm gonna tag this as a writing thing bc it gets kinda fic-y #cecil writes

1 note · View note

survivoirs · 2 years

Text

Send 👄to put something in my muse’s mouth.

Even the Lord of the Dreaming slept. He dreamt and dreams who wished to visit him while he rested could entertain his sleeping mind with wonder. The opposite could be said of Nightmares but very few ever dared to take that liberty with them without the Endless’ prior request. The Corinthian didn’t seem to think rules of any sorts, even simply the ones for respect, applied to him at all.

While Morpheus had fallen asleep in the safety of his bed, he now found himself back in the Burgess basement inside of the seal that had held him. Only this time, instead of being inside a glass orb, he was seated on his own throne. It was a confusing mix as he looked around slowly. There was no glass to contain him all they had to do was — their body felt sluggish although he had no physical restraints on them. Morpheus made a sound in struggle before he noticed the Corinthian leaning against the wall opposite. Waiting.

The Endless slowly lifted his hand as the Nightmare approached and tried to grab at the other’s shirt as the Corinthian sat down on the arm of his throne to their left. The Nightmare looked down at him with all three of his mouths grinning while he took the raised hand and gently pushed it back down. Morpheus struggled to make words form on their lips and the Nightmare rose a finger to their lips while shushing him gently. None of this made sense to the Endless. The circle shouldn’t be making him feel this sluggish. Shouldn’t affect their speech.

The hand near his mouth shifted to suddenly grip at Morpheus’ jaw. With the other, the Nightmare produced an eyeball from his pocket, held by the end of the ocular nerve from his fingertips. It wasn’t until the man used the heel of his palm to tilt Dream’s head back and fingers digging into just above his jaw to force their mouth open a bit that he understood what the Corinthian was after. Morpheus’ brow furrowed and he tried to stand up, hand gripping at the other arm of the chair. He could taste the metallic tang in the air of blood that still coated parts of the eye just before it came into contact with his parted lips.

“Corinthian...” Morpheus was finally able to whisper out. “Shush. My Lord. Give it a taste,” the Nightmare hushed, pressing it forward as the Endless let his mouth open more. Dreams were strange like that. Like there were bits one could control just a little while still staying on the path of what was happening. This was a dream. The thought just now hit them. It could be so difficult to tell one was dreaming, even for Morpheus. Both dreams and nightmares were designed to be that way.

As soon as the eyeball and nerve had fully passed the Dreamlord’s lips, the Corinthian pressed his hand over their mouth to make sure Dream couldn’t spit it back out. This was his dream but not one of his making, as such Morpheus had a hard time holding proper control over their own actions. As if he were just a part of a story unfolding. Dark hair was brushed out of his eyes by the Nightmare’s fingers before they curled in, gripping tightly there as the hand over his mouth squeezed lightly as a silent warning. This was just a dream. Morpheus began to chew. Vitreous fluid spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the blood already there. Dream expected it to taste horrid but there was a sweetness he couldn’t quite place. It didn’t taste like anything they would have thought for what it was. Dream or not. When he swallowed, The Corinthian released their hair and pushed his head back before standing.

Dream felt off, feeling thoughts and memories beginning to twirl through his mind. He saw a walk being taken on a sunny day. A hand out holding onto a leash that a fluffy black dog was attached to chewing on a stick at a grassy park. He saw fingers tapping against a steering wheel while being stuck in traffic. Fingers adjusting the radio station. The music was lively and they felt it through their body. The music shifted. Memories shifting to some sort of club. Sweaty bodies. People dancing. Laughing. Drinking. This was just a dream, the flashes of memories were so brief, so quick, not like the real thing even if they had been someone the Corinthian had -- sampled himself. Dream let his head fall into his hand as the memories shifted again. A smiling face and a pair of dark sunglasses. Dream didn’t just feel like they were simply watching snapshots. He felt some of it. The way this young man’s heart had raced as the handsome blond man across from him had complimented his eyes. The way his hand felt warm when he’d taken it to pull him deeper into throng of people. Another shift. Another memory. Up close on the Corinthian’s face. Easy words falling off the Nightmare’s lips. They weren’t at the club anymore. An apartment? Gaze dropping down and back up the Nightmare’s body as clothes were removed. As more followed. Dream felt like he was spying on an intimate, private moment. Like they shouldn’t be there but couldn’t turn it off. His heart was racing. A part of him didn’t want to look away either. Seeing the Corinthian like that was---something else. Another shift. Heart racing again, but out of fear this time. The point of view of someone being held down and -- well Morpheus could tell when the eye he’d consumed stopped seeing with a sickening squelch. His fear felt so real he wanted it to stop.

And he could. Remembering who they were, what they could do. His fist smacked down on the arm of his throne. “ENOUGH.”

And he awoke. Morpheus sat up quickly in his bed, panting softly, their brow beaded with sweat. Dark silk sheets slid down his form to pool over his lower half just enough to keep him decent. The Endless looked around his chambers with residual panic in his eyes before he found the Nightmare leaning against the wall with an amused look on his face. “That -- that was not funny, Corinthian.” They dropped their head into their hands for a moment. “You dare...”

@nightmarecountry

#im SCREAMING #sorry i had too much fun writing this and got carried away #he's so fucking conflicted in their head rn im dead #dont even look at him hes embarassed #ANSWERED. [ ask and ye shall receive ]#THREADS. [ If dreams disappear then so will Humanity. - Morpheus ]#eye horror cw #uhhhh what else #idek what to tag #gore cw

3 notes · View notes

ghost-of-you · 2 years

Note

yk i was going to send you a concept but, i'll let you surprise me. i'm sure you will serve something devastating in one way or another, so, here's my favourite emoji: 🥺

congrats bestie<333

Ana, my love, you went against better judgement and let me surprise you, and I'm gonna be honest here, I had like, 4 different plans before i landed on this one. My first instinct was actually something cake talk fast inspired, but i got a lot of cake requests and then i was talking to myle the other day about how the universe needed these men together and the idea formed in my brain. I straight up dug through my whole archive to figure out if what i was thinking actually happened and wasn't something i read in a fic or whatever. In the end, that landed you with a soulmatesos set. Please don't block me. I love you a lot 💜

#ily ana dont block me #i gotta add thiz cuz its the first suggestion when i type your name #i got carried away sorry #i hope you like this even if it causes emotional distress #i teared up a bit when i put it together not gonna lie #but im feeling all sorts of weird today so i dont know #anyway #thank you i love you dont block me 💜💜#ana 💜#i was asked

2 notes · View notes

narutosrighthand · 2 years

Note

thoughts on naruto movies?

they are... alright i suppose? like some part of me wants to appreciate animation that has budget put in it (especially if we talk about comparing it to late shippuden, which, in my opinion, ages so badly each year) the other part is that they are mostly filler and not even the fun type of filler, well, not all of them but you know and the last part i don't like about them it's that they were non-canon stories and then for some reason last one decided that it needs to be canonised (is that a word?) but kishimoto didn't give a fuck about it so it's really really bad and forced and so out of any timeline, again, because kishimoto didn't want to explain these relationships and wanted just to skip to next-gen And the boruto naruto one is like completly canon? which i also don't get why some part of story is a movie? i haven't seen it fully but at least from what i've seen kishimoto was involved and it feels more contained (sns still are ugly in there tho but that one fight is good as hell)

#plus i've seen like only half of them. or less as much as i recall #first one is fun and has sasuke in it #second one don't remember anything about except that time naruto passed half-dying and was thinking about sasuke (normal behavior)#third one has lee and cool outfits and fun fights #fourth one didnt watched but that moment of naruto with hair down was soooo gifted back in 2010 naruto tumblr #fifth one (bonds) it's pretty wack but sns is crazy other each there so it can pass and that lips reading scene from there and its >>>#six one uhhhhh also dont remember shit but i remember that kakashi / naruto joke at the end...... which uhhhhhh. um. anyway #seventh one i think time travel ??? dont remember anything about it besides that one naruto dodging thing gif that was also very 2010sque #eight one is the prison i think? also dont remember what happened there but naruto just not dying from that insane wound he had -> normal #road to ninja is enjoyable. music slaps because it's the guys that did a lot of OPs and het sasuke is real only here #do i even need to tell anything about the last?#answered #personal #IM SO SORRY FOR THESE TAGS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

3 notes · View notes

zarameraki · 1 month

Text

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

7K notes · View notes

keyotos · 11 months

Text

he does it so well

summary ⎯ hot things they do.

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, & jing yuan.

tana's words ⎯ struggling with writing requests rn so i wrote something short to clear writer's block. im sorry guys i'll get to them soon i promise 😭

dan heng

⎯ waits for you before turning the page on a book. he notices that you are reading along with him and waits for you to signal that you're ready before carrying on.

⎯ private > public. he will brush your hand in public but he will be all over you in private. instead of only brushing your hand, dan heng will be brushing up on you. more touchy in private than in public.

⎯ pushes the hair out of your face when it's getting in your way. but he does it in a more sensual way. his fingers graze your lips as he agonizingly drags his hand through your hair.

⎯ long day? melts into your body at night. runs his hands up and down your arms as a way to relieve stress?? leans his head into your neck and sighs so dreamily??? like hello?? lips grazing your neck???

⎯ hot morning voice. raspy and rough. also kind of scratchy. when he tells you, "five more minutes," how could you say no to THAT voice? he knows of this effect and makes sure to use it to his full advantage

⎯ very observant. knows everything you like; knows your routines; knows you. he's the first to compliment you if you got a haircut or new outfit/nails/whatever. it always make you blush bc how is he always the first one to figure these things out?!?@#$%

⎯ gets jealous a little too easily. doesn't do anything verbal about it. opts for being a little more touchy than usual. he thinks it's embarrassing and he wants to hide his face into his pillow when you tease him about it.

⎯ lip biter. not when y'all are kissing, but when he tries to hide his smile or his laugh he bites his lip. you find it so cute and you just want to grab him and just connect your lips with his.

⎯ nerd. hot sexy nerd. he'll tell you about animals and mitosis and python and he's just so intelligent. helps you with problem solving things (probably puzzles idk) and he stands/leans over you with his breath dancing on the back of your neck.

⎯ jawline kisser. if he wants something from you he gives chaste kisses to your jawline. he does that when he's bored too ig. very big on jaw kisses and secretly loves when you flush because of them.

gepard

⎯ blushes when you compliment him. he looks so adorable you just wanna pinch his cheeks and smother him. he gets even more embarrassed

⎯ big domestic guy. ntm on casual stuff or situationships. if he wants you, he'll let you know (even if he's blushing his way through it).

⎯ he is not shy. in the beginning he might be a little shy, but later on the relationship he'll get bolder. chaste kisses on the lips becomes long make-out sessions on his bed after a rather tiring day on the front lines. and if he hasn't seen you in a while... i will let you guys interpret.

⎯ leans down to listen to you. he's literally gigantic and when he LEANS DOWN just to hear what you say... and it's so innocent too but the way you look up at him doesn't make it so innocent anymore...

⎯ pins you to the wall on accident. may or may not be inspired by teenage dream. anyway, he does a lot of hot things on accident and doesn't even realize it. so you are trying not to explode while gepard is enjoying his merry day while caging you underneath him.

⎯ acts like a knight since u always make jokes that he's your "knight in shining armor." so dedicated that he kisses your knuckles out of nowhere and it makes you want to FAINT. like you could be reading and (out of nowhere) he takes your hand away from your book and kisses ur knuckles. AND HE HOLDS EYE CONTACT WHILE DOING IT.

⎯ flirty without knowing it. says something cute and flirty but doesn't realize it until you say something. and he says it so calmly too; like drops it into a convo

⎯ runs a hand through your hair before you two sleep. he just wants to keep you close and he just wants to feel you because he never gets to come home often.

⎯ ROLLS UP. HIS SLEEVES. TO HIS FOREARMS. he does this when he's particularly stressed. like come here i can show you a way to destress (i'm so sorry).

blade

⎯ he's only shirtless when YOU are around. he trusts you enough to show all of himself around you. you are reliable and trustworthy enough to be able to know the entirety of him: his body, his mind, his past, etc.

⎯ intensely loyal to you. like if he had to choose between the world and you he would obviously choose you. would do anything for you, would buy anything for you, would steal anything for you: you guys get the gist.

⎯ he's so loving only towards you. silver wolf and kafka like to tease him for it (especially silver wolf... bc how can he play a game with you and not her). he does little things for you, like picking lint off of your outfit or pulling your hair back when you're eating something. or pulling your hair back when you're doing something...

⎯ LOVES when you wear his clothing. his shirt his jacket ANYTHING. whatever it is, he will be going crazy for it. has a thing for when you wear his shirts; you just look so good and you're wearing something that's HIS. not anyone else's; HIS SHIRT.

⎯ has a little possessive streak. it's not a weird and overprotective possessive thing tho. more so, "no silver wolf you are not going to force them to play games with you." maybe it's more overprotective than possessive, but secretly he wants you all to himself and he does NOT want to share.

⎯ speaking of being overprotective, he is also just regular protective. he walks on the side near the road so you don't have to. he grabs your arm to pull you away from something dangerous. he shields you so he'll get hit before you. yk, cute stuff like that. your safety is his priority, no matter what.

⎯ he is the type to be like, "who did this to you??" and he WILL be hunting that person down. but not without urgently caring for you first.

⎯ his touch is so filled with emotion, genuineness, earnestness, and sincere. i hc that blade doesn't have much relationship experience and he isn't very wordy, so when he hugs you or touches you, all of his emotions are poured into his hands/fingers/etc. all of what he feels for you (which is very much) is shown in his physical touch.

sampo

⎯ MANSPREADS. i said it. HE IS A MANSPREADER. elbows resting on top of his knees as he says something super coy or flirty towards you, and sometimes you even have to PHYSICALLY avert your eyes away.

⎯ a tease. if you lean in for a kiss, he'll lean backwards. if he's missing you, his fingertips will dance along the bare skin of your sides, and then he'll pull away to make you want him as much as he wants you. he is so INFURIATING.

⎯ if he flusters you and you blush n try to cover your face with something (literally anything), he'll grab whatever you're holding so he could see your face. to him, you look the prettiest when you're smiley and flustered, such as in those situations.

⎯ if you're going on a long tangent about something, he'll kiss you on your lips randomly. he doesn't mind your rambling, he thinks it's adorable, which is why he does it. it always leaves you with your jaw dropped before you could continue what you were saying.

⎯ the type to lock himself in a closet with you but on accident. you guys don't know how you two even got into that situation, but sampo is with you, so he couldn't be happier. big quality time guy.

⎯ brings you little trinkets or gifts based on his "business" adventures. whenever he sees something, he gets it for you. his mind is usually racing about you anyway, so he can't help himself when he develops a spending problem because of you

⎯ sings with you to songs. you could be singing in the shower and then you hear this agitating, grating voice. he's a terrible singer, but he'll do anything as long as you're there with him, so he sings with you anyway.

jing yuan

⎯ wakes up and the first thing he does is admire you. he studies every single one of your facial features, acting as if he's never seen them before when he wakes up to your face every day. he finds beauty all around you: in your sleeping face, on the bridge of your nose, the pout of your lips when you're asleep. he just loves all of you.

⎯ a flirt and PROUD. he's bold with his quips. not afraid of initiating affection in public but he prefers private which i think is much sexier.

⎯ neck kisser. heavy on neck kisses (especially in the morning). practically an entire body kisser tbh. he can't get enough of you, and in a world where loneliness strives (immortality), he's grateful that he has you for the time being.

⎯ grabs your chin and tilts your head up if he wants you. he doesn't do it forcefully, more like a gentle smush. he locks eyes with you and omfg it makes your heart beat sm. like why are you looking at me LIKE THAT. so sensually or whateva....

⎯ urges you to come closer to him so he can whisper something in your ear. when do you come closer to him, he pulls you by the waist and gets super close to your ear. like lips brushing your ear. and he blows a raspberry in it. so stupid but too lovable.

⎯ lies down in your lap if you two are lounging together. since he's so busy, he doesn't get to lounge around often, so he likes to be as close to you as possible.

⎯ if he wants to kiss you, you will know. not because he'll tell you. but because of the specific LOOK he gives you. his eyes are narrowed under the spell of seduction, focusing only on your lips. his mouth is slightly parted like he is ready to kiss you, and the way he tilts his head down...

⎯ patient for you. will wait for you even when he is dying to feel you once again. he has to deal with yanqing so he holds a lot of patience. but he won't rush you with anything, lets you move at your own pace, and gives you help if needed. overall sweet guy.

i hope this motivates me into finishing my requests

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #gepard x reader #gepard x you #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr blade #gepard landau x reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski #sampo x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you

13K notes · View notes

stormyoceans · 1 year

Note

I'm biased bc of bad buddy withdrawal but ugh I wish we got more of actual tess and tun like wtf happened when they switched back and found their lives totally sorted out. Esp Tess who was lowkey such a mess. Did he feel any guilt for ruining Talay's life while he was there?? And omg Friend Credits being so confused as to why thier friends went from stupidly sappy to super cold towards each other... I have so many qs (what if I wrote a fic......)

this is probably a VERY unpopular opinion, but i have to admit that i've never really felt the need for the show to explore tess and tun's of the story, probably because i don't have many positive feelings towards tess ;;;;;;

i definitely understand the appeal of it tho!!!! vice versa is very much puen and talay's story, and because the show follows their journey through the two universes, it means that a lot of storylines in the alternate one remain open (not only tess and tun's, but also aou and fuse's, dol's, pang's....). for some people this lack of definitive closure for all the characters is a flaw, which is definitely valid!!!! but i think it makes perfect sense within the narrative of the show, and i like that it leaves the viewers with so much love and curiosity for these characters that you want to know what happens to them even if they weren't the main ones

we have so much creative freedom left, and not because of bad writing, but because the show actually gave that to us and let each of us imagine the future we prefer for these characters. for example, even if i don't particularly like tess, i do like to think that eventually he's gonna see the error of his ways and change for the better, especially after seeing how much talay has done to improve tess' life and the lives of everyone around him. i also love the idea of tess and tun using a breakup as an excuse to explain their sudden cold behavior towards each other, and then slowly learning about the past two years and about this new person they have become in everyone else's eyes, until they're slowly pulled back together by what they went through and eventually learn to be friends and then maybe more

but yeah all this nonsense is to say, i understand the frustration of not having sure answers, but also you have the power to end this part of the story however you want!!!!! you can actually find your own answers!!!!! SO PLEASE WRITE THAT FIC!!!!! I WILL BE SITTING HERE SUPPORTING YOU EVERY STEP OF THE WAY!!!!!!

#sorry anon i got a little carried away and this doesn't even make sense ;;;;;;#BUT THE POINT IS WE FULLY ENDORSE WRITING FICS IN THIS HOUSE AND I WILL READ THEM ALL #I WOULD READ A FULL TESS' CHARACTER STUDY TOO #like just because i think the show itself didn't need to focus on tess and tun #it doesn't mean that i don't want to read people's endings for them!!!!!#and im making less and less sense the more i write so this is probably my cue to leave ;;;;;;#vice versa #m: ask

1 note · View note

Last Seen Blogs

heavenlyfever7236-blog

Untitled

worldcraacker

Techno ist meine Luft wenn ich zu ersticken drohe.

candyfloss5000

Din's darksaber

nnolstrves

nolan

goodhqs

⟨ the good place ⟩