#this idea came to me like an epiphany | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stsgluver · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟐 — gojo satoru

synopsis. another installment of the first years going through old videos of their teacher and his friends

wc. 4.1k

tags. gojo x reader, reader in the same class as gojo, ft. nanami and haibara

an. do I have any idea where im taking this? no. still think its cute though (let’s hope the next part doesn’t take me another couple of months 🤭)

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“good evening boys,” nobara burst into megumi and yuuji’s room. the former who was shocked awake from his nap and the latter who had two big bags of popcorn in either arm. he’d been waiting for an hour for the orange-haired girl, a bright grin on his face.

“you can’t just come into our room,” megumi grumbled, pulling his pillow over his head and rolling over in his bed. nobara and yuuji ignored his complaint, dragging both chairs in their room in front of yuuji’s desk. nobara set up the laptop whilst yuuji ran to nobara’s room to grab a third chair. after five minutes of rustling, their movie night was read.

“come sit all, it’s movie time!” the orange-haired girl said excitedly, pulling megumi’s comforter off of him. he sported his usual frown but sleepily complied nonetheless, dragging the blanket around his body as he sat next to yuuji (who then forced the dark-haired teen to share some of the blanket with him).

“we’re in detention.” the screen opened up with you – hair pulled back into a ponytail as you wore your usual uniform. the three students could recognise the wall behind you as one of their own classes.

“not our fault,” shoko added, fixing gojo’s glasses on the top of her head. the two of you spoke in hushed whispers, glancing towards the door where, presumably, yaga was on the other side. you had shoved your desk closer to shoko’s so it was basically one big desk and the camera was balanced in the middle.

“never is,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, shooting the person next to you a glare.

shoko lightly shifted the camera so that geto could come into frame. he raised his hands up in surrender, “it’s not mine either.”

“satoru is getting yelled at by sensei right now,” you whisper shouted, pointing towards the door. if yuuji turned the volume up any louder, they’d be able to hear yaga yet again scolding gojo for another mistake he’d made on a mission – an order he’d probably disobeyed the more confident he grew in his own ability.

shoko frowned, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “he literally knows it was that idiot. why are we being punished?”

“maybe yaga thinks if we get annoyed at satoru he’ll stop,” geto reasoned with a sigh, as if though he wasn’t gojo’s partner in crime and equally as complicit when he entertained his antics.

“no he won’t. he thinks by punishing us, satoru will have some epiphany about his actions impacting other people. like he thinks far enough ahead to come to that realisation,” you dropped your head down onto your desk. geto laughed quietly, giving you a ‘comforting’ pat on your shoulder.

shoko leant close to the camera, a sharp pencil in hand that she lightly jutted forward, “count your days, gojo satoru.”

the classroom door slid open and the camera was abruptly dropped as yaga walked in, a head of white hair only seconds behind. “is that a came–?” his voice was muffled and cut off quickly as the clip ended.

“bagsy my turn,” yuuji practically jumped from his seat, almost spilling the popcorn everywhere as his half off the blanket dropped from his lap.

megumi grumbled at him as he grabbed the blanket and bag of popcorn from his excitable classmate. “oh no i was in such a rush,” he sarcastically quipped and nobara lightly nudged his shoulder.

gojo behaved as a god now, untouchable to all as he alone was the strongest. even though their teacher had never been anything but overtly childish, his cursed energy wasn’t something that could be ignored. seventeen year old gojo was as human as they come, lovesick and reckless and happy. the balance of the world was yet to be forced upon him.

yuuji grinned as he sat back properly, having only taken a fraction of the time to find a video he wanted in comparison to their previous snooping session. taking back his bag of popcorn, he settled himself back under the blanket. “want some?” he offered megumi, who shook his head in response. “your loss.”

as per usual, it was shoko’s face up close and personal with the camera as she adjusted the lens and made sure that it was on and focused. once she was satisfied, she spun the camera so that it was facing nanami – yuuji could hardly contain himself at seeing his beloved teacher look so… not muscular and scary. small giggles filling the dorm room.

the two were in one of the tokyo classrooms, and sat on desks on opposing sides of the room. nanami had his head deep in a book that would probably kill any of his classmates from sheer boredom alone.

“who do you think the first of us to die will be?” shoko asked indifferently as nanami’s eyebrows furrowed and he slowly looked to his left with an unimpressed expression. even as a sixteen year old, he was set in his rigid mannerisms and beliefs and often saw his four seniors as pains in the ass. whilst you and shoko were definitely ranked higher in his list of people he could tolerate than gojo and geto, questions like this made him contemplate his future in jujutsu sorcery if this was who he was going to be working alongside.

“why are you asking me that?”

“answer,” shoko demanded, zooming in the camera on nanami’s face. his blonde hair was held neatly in his side parting and he looked like anyone but the nanami the students were familiar with.

it looked like he was contemplating telling shoko she was odd, or completely blanking her and opting to finish his book, but the thoughtful silence was interrupted by a sudden thud outside of the classroom. their heads darted up to look at the door and peer through the open doorway into the hallway only to hear gojo’s faint ‘i’m okay!’.

nanami let out a drawn out sigh, shaking his head. “him.”

“none of us!” haibara’s voice called out as he peered out of the classroom’s cupboard that he’d been reorganising (it had been gojo and geto’s job but they’d left it worse than when they’d arrived and he really didn��t want to get told off again by yaga).

shoko eyed the camera in disbelief, not even trying to entertain the young teen’s impossible ideology. “you know the mortality rate of a sorcerer right?” she called back to haibara who didn’t falter in his cheeriness as he affirmed his point.

“and? geto and gojo are almost special grades already! you’ve got to have some faith in us,” he grinned, slipping his jacket back on as he finished up his tidying. his footsteps held a skip that the older students had lost – an innocence that was rarely allowed to exist in the jujutsu world.

yuuji had stopped giggling at the younger appearances of the sorcerers he now knew because he didn’t know him. it was a reminder to the three that no matter how positive they remained against the hardships that would come, it wouldn’t matter. it was kill or be killed and one tiny little mistake, one movement a fraction of a second too late, was the difference between getting paid and coming home in a body bag.

“lame,” shoko rolled her eyes. she tapped her twin twice as she pondered her own question before pointing at the blond opposite her, “my guess is nanami.” despite his disinterest in the question itself, he shot a look of offence to shoko who raised her free hand in surrender. “imagine this: you’re put on a mission with gojo. you’d ask the curse to kill you.”

“i’m getting killed by a curse?” the special grade in question peered into the classroom, glasses pushed up onto his head and revealing his renowned dazzling blue eyes. there was a small scratch on his cheek – presumably from whatever he’d hit into a few minutes prior.

“no, nanami is to avoid you.”

gojo gasped, one hand on the door frame and the other over his heart as he cried out that ‘that couldn’t be true’ and nanami was his ‘bestest bestie for life’. he only halted his dramatics when you and geto forced him out of the doorway so you could join the rest of your classmates.

you sat in your usual seat next to shoko and geto sat on top of your desk. gojo, on the other hand, remained at the door, jaw practically on the floor as he aggressively pointed at the annoyed blond. “guys, nanami is going to die so he doesn’t have to be friends with me, defend me!”

“at least one of us is brave enough to end our suffering,” geto teased, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grin as you lightly hit his arm, scolding him for entertaining gojo’s behaviour.

instead of giving the white haired sorcerer’s antics any more attention, shoko turned the camera so that it was only a couple of inches from your face. “who do you think will die first?”

“satoru,” you said in unison with geto, eliciting another gasp as gojo dropped onto the floor, faking death.

when he didn’t get the sympathetic reaction he wanted, he abruptly sat up, pointing a finger directly at you and geto, “did we all just forget five minutes ago when i kicked your asses in training?”

“i’m literally a grade two sorcerer, what sort of flex is that mr i’m-practically-special-grade-please-worship-the-ground-i-walk-on?” you scoffed. the video ended a few moments later, cutting off laughter and satoru bickering with you.

there was a brief moment of silence – mixed feelings towards what the three had just witnessed. of course it was fun to watch their teacher and his friends but death was a sobering event.

“megumi?” nobara gestured for him to take his turn on choosing their next video but he shook his head, cradling what remained of the bag of popcorn (he’d stolen it back after yuuji nearly spilled once he saw nanami).

“no thanks, you can take my go,” he offered and nobara grinned, worries set aside as she leant forward to find the next video. it was like watching a tv show but it was real life and she knew the characters.

yuuji tried to argue it should be his go – megumi did steal his popcorn after all – but megumi didn’t care enough to aid his argument and there was no way yuuji could overpower the orange-haired sorcerer without his support. nobara was a force to be reckoned with and yuuji was scared to make her mad.

“is that the teacher from kyoto?” nobara asked after several moments of silently scrolling.

yuuji leaned forward to look at the thumbnail of the video she held the cursor over and in between two tall cherry blossom trees was utahime iori. “it is!” he said excitedly; he’d never seen her without the scar before.

the video opened with utahime running towards the camera from the pink trees. they were fully bloomed and in the background there were tourists taking photos.

“did you get a good picture? does my hair look okay?” utahime asked whoever was behind the camera. the questions were so mundane – the questions of teenage girls worried more about their social media than if they’d survive their next mission.

“yeah don’t worry it always does,” shoko’s voice was heard speaking. her hand appeared in the frame a moment later as she handed utahime back her phone. “here’s your phone.”

“you never say that to me,” you grumbled.

“take the hint,” shoko threw a handful of cherry blossom leaves at you and there was the sound of rustling as you tried to shake what you could out of your hair.

“shoko ieiri!” you whined, followed by some incoherent threat and a complaint that you’d just had your hair done after some curse had ruined it the other week.

utahime picked up the camera, lifting it high up to show off the trees and bustling streets of tourists and commuters. “i thought we specifically didn’t bring gojo and geto to avoid childless arguments.”

“yn’s fault,” shoko countered, jumping away into the frame of the camera as you tried to hit her arm. she giggled, half behind utahime, “do you at least have gojo’s card?”

“you mean this gorgeous thing?” you appeared on the other side of utahime, sleek black card between your fingertips that you showed to the camera. “today is on him ladies.”

“you truly are taking one for the team being with him, i retract all earlier insults.” shoko held her hand out for a truce, bowing her head as you took her hand.

“i appreciate it, it’s not an easy task,” you dramatically wiped a fake tear away from the corner of your eyes. gojo had given you the card before you’d embarked on your monthly trip to the city, telling you that as long as you brought back a bag of sweets and kikufuku from that one cafe, he didn’t care what you spent.

you froze a moment later, a look of deep thought crossing your features, “can you guys hear that?”

“no,” utahime frowned, a look of concern as she glanced around at the crowd. if your day was about to be ruined by a curse, or worse yet, curse users–

“sounds like the card is saying we need to buy overpriced starbucks.” the three of you broke out into grins at the potential that the black card had given you.

“oh my god, you’re so right and wait,” shoko grabbed your wrist and brought the card close to her ear, “it needs cigarettes to be bought too.”

“shoko! you said you were quitting,” utahime nudged her and shoko blew her an apologetic kiss. the nicotine patches she’d bought to try and quit were still sealed and in a draw she hadn’t opened since she put them in there several weeks ago. quitting was nothing more than a fantasy considered once every blue moon.

“she’s a liar–”

“–and proud,” shoko finished your sentence with a nonchalant shrug.

“i wish sensei would give me his card for a day,” nobara said wistfully as the video ended, twisting a strand of her orange hair around her finger as she mentally plotted the order in which she’d go to all of the shops in tokyo. all she’d need was a full day – 9 to 5 – and she’d never have to shop another day in her life.

“you’d max it out within an hour,” yuuji scoffed, scooping a handful of the popcorn into his mouth. nobara scrunched her nose up at him as he messily chewed down.

“actually it’s a lot harder than it would seem,” megumi noted.

nobara raised a brow at him – megumi and shopping? “you’ve tried?”

“we tried multiple times,” megumi spoke without much of a second thought. his jaw clenched slightly as he realised his mistake and the consequential curious eyes . pointing to the dark screen, he lightly elbowed the boy next to him’s side, “yuuji take your go quick before i kick kugisaki out so i can sleep.”

“welcome to yn’s kitchen- don’t touch that,” you whacked geto’s hand with a wooden spoon, stopping him from dipping his finger into the bowl of chocolate icing. the dark haired sorcerer cradled his ‘injured’ hand though it was comical to believe you’d actually done any damage – he was at least an entire six inches taller than you.

“today we made a cake,” you held your arms out in a jazz hands manner to show something that… resembled a cake? if the students squinted maybe they’d agree.

“for satoru’s birthday,” geto added, pulling out the big ‘18’ candles that would eventually be used.

it was pretty obvious that neither of you had any real baking experience, but the thought was definitely there. the shape somewhat was cylindrical, only a small clump had chosen to stay in the pan and had to be ‘surgically’ glued back to the rest of the shape with a large scoop of nutella. you were hoping that the icing would disguise the bitterness of the burnt edges.

“taste it,” you smiled at the camera, shifting the plate towards geto like you were on some cooking show and that pile of sponge was something to be proud of.

geto pushed the plate back without any hesitation, “i don’t want to.”

“do it.”

“you do it.”

your smile dropped and you flashed geto a glare before composing yourself by clearing your throat. taking a deep breath, you broke off a tiny piece of the top layer of the cake, “so i’m now going to trial this small bit for research purposes.”

you barely had chewed twice before your mouth was scrunching up in disgust and you were disappearing off camera to find a bin to spit it out into.

geto, unfazed and unsurprised by your joint failure, picked up the spatula and began dolloping it onto the top of the cake.

“that’s horrendous-” you came back in view with a glass of water in hand. “what are you doing?”

“hiding that with icing,” he stated obviously.

“we’re still giving that to him?”

geto grinned, directly at the camera as he hoped gojo would find this video after he too ate this. “obviously we’re still giving it to him.”

“it’s weird,” yuuji hummed once the video ended, “those two were sensei’s closest friends and yet he doesn’t speak about either.”

“can you blame him? have you ever spoken to maki about the attack geto led against the school last year?” nobara pointed out and yuuji’s eyes widened as he’d nodded. maki was a woman of few words but when it came to yuta? she’d spend all day ranting about how much she disliked geto and that he’d gotten what was coming to him.

“my turn,” megumi placed the now empty bag of popcorn onto the floor as he scrolled and clicked on the first video that he could find. you weren’t a conversation he was ready to have yet – he could bearly speak to gojo about it, let alone the two loudest mouths in the school.

the video opened to the loud sound of the subway. shoko and geto were sat on one side whilst you and gojo on the other – with you holding up the camera as your beloved boyfriend stood up in the middle of the subway carriage.

“fit check!” gojo did a little spin, showing off his basic hoodie and baggy jeans that he wore almost every time the four snuck out of the high school – or in fact, did anything together for that matter. for someone so rich he really did not use his wealth to its full capacity.

after his little twirl and bow, he dropped back down next to you, looking over the camera into your eyes as he seeked your validation. “i look hot right?”

“you always look hot,” you flipped the camera to face yourself as you not-so-subtly-whispered, “his mum paid me to say that.” the students knew their teacher well enough to know that the dramatic gasp they heard was almost definitely followed by an overexaggerated display of anguish. your giggles and geto’s laughter only confirmed the conclusion.

“i think i need a kiss to recover. or i’ll spend the rest of my days as a ghost, heart broken and never able to leave this subway as i haunt it and all the other coup–” the lens view was obstructed by their teacher’s hoodie as you gave into his demands, cutting off his pathetic rant.

a loud groan was heard from shoko as she snatched back the camera and held it up to her unimpressed face and geto gagging. “i prefer it when they’re broken up,” she grumbled.

before megumi could interject and tell nobara to get out now (he didn’t care if yuuji teased him for his ‘need for beauty sleep’), the video ended and automatically opened onto the next one. his words were caught in his throat at the oh-so-familiar apartment.

“get that out of my face.” you were older now, only be a few years but there was a scar on your neck that hadn’t been there in any of the other videos. gojo’s laugh could be heard as he ignored your request and instead held it up high enough to capture you both in the frame.

“you don’t remember this old thing?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead, securing you before you could duck away from him.

“we’re twenty one stop acting like we’re ancient,” you crossed your arms in front of yourself as you accepted that maybe just possibly you didn’t quite the match the strength of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer.

“we may as well be. we’ve got two kids.”

your eyes widened and you shook your head, “we do not–”

“yn!” a small megumi appeared in the corner of the frame and you quickly shut up as gojo gave you an i-told-you-so look. “gojo said he’d help me with my maths homework. an hour ago.”

the smugness almost instantly vanished from the sorcerers face as you glared at him for once again avoiding his responsibilities. because apparently there was more to looking after children than feeding them and taking them out for the day as a reward when they beat up bullies in school.

“i’m a busy man megumi, saving lives, helping–” gojo winced as you elbowed him in the side, allowing you to slip from his grasp.

“ignore him megs, let’s go into the living room,” you said, ushering the small boy out of the room. two years of this and you were surprised that megumi even still bothered to give gojo a chance to act his age.

“don’t take my sweets!”

you halted megumi purposefully, “do you want gojo’s sweets?” the camera although kind of forgotten now, still had the young boy in view and picked up his smirk in full as he nodded.

“i’d love them.” gojo winced again, pretending like tears were about to start falling. as if though he couldn’t easily afford to replace anything they did eat by the thousands.

“perfect,” you exaggerated in a condescending tone. as the amazing parent that you were, you made sure not to forget about the other child that was staying with you. “tsu! do you want a treat?”

“yeah!”

“even better,” you clapped your hands together and gestured for megumi to continue on into the living room again. “have fun with your camera love. i’m very busy adulting here.”

“this isn’t over,” the white haired sorcerer shook his head, betrayal clear on his features.

you mouthed the words ‘i love you’, blowing him a little kiss as you disappeared around the corner. gojo gave you a fake grin, narrowing his eyes at the camera.

“jokes on them, i pay the bills. no more electricity for them.”

“you were so cute!” yuuji practically squealed as he and nobara jumped up

“your hair was so spiky!” nobara reached out to poke at his less bold spikes that he sported nowadays. they had earnt him his nickname of ‘sea urchin’ but still couldn’t beat his younger hairdo.

“can we meet her?” yuuji asked, the poor boy having been oblivious to any of the social cues that nobara already had. nobara coughed at his request, eyes flicking between the two boys.

megumi shook his head. “i think that’s enough for tonight. please, kugisaki,” he nodded his head towards the door. the girl gave him a quick salute, completing her secret handshake with yuuji before she grabbed the laptop and disappeared from their dorm back to her own.

the dark haired student ignored yuuji’s complaints as he dropped himself back onto his bunk bed, reaching for his phone. upon opening his messages, he scrolled to a contact and pressed on the chat.

all of the messages displayed on the screen were sent from him to the unknown contact. there was never a response, or even a read message. just ‘delivered’. he knew that if he scrolled up it would be much the same. the last message he’d ever received was one on his 14th birthday; a simple ‘happy birthday. i love you. i’m sorry’.

hi. we miss you. i hope you’re doing okay.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts

#snapshot !#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #gojo fluff #gojo angst #geto x reader #shoko x reader #utahime x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

2K notes · View notes

ice--daddy · 7 months

Text

“You look lonely... I can fix that”

I watched the whole movie just to draw this? Yes.

The idea came to me like an epiphany, I hadn't even seen the movie, but I had to draw it.

Movie: Blade Runner 2049

#adventure time #hora de aventura #fionna and cake #prismo the wishmaster #prismo #prohibitedwish #scarab the god auditor #scarab fionna and cake #adventure time with fionna and cake #blade runner #blade runner 2049 #redraw #digital art #prismo x scarab

1K notes · View notes

risuola · 27 days

Text

IV — EPIPHANY — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN

Sukuna thought nothing can break him. He's powerful, he has influence and means to always come on top – or at least that's what he thought, because now he realized that he's nohing but weak.

cw: angst, blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 2,6k words

a/n: in this part i wanted to give you a little insight into Sukuna's persona. show the menace in him, show the threat and how he is when he's not influenced by weakness that is our precious y/n (aka when he's not confused as hell by what's happening in his heart). i rewrote this part four times before i was finally somewhat satisfied with it.

series masterlist

You are safe with me.

Sukuna thought about the words with hilarity. The sentence so simple and kind, it felt foreign to realize that his own mouth allowed it out of his system. An odd sort of disdain washed over himself and he found it laughable that throughout his entire career of blood and murder, what made his blood pressure raise up was a lie he told you. A strangely comic amalgamation of letters and syllables that each time he thought of them made him more angry and more amused.

You were safe, technically, or maybe that’s what he wished to believe when he replayed the events of one very unlucky Sunday evening in his memory. It began lovely, too lovely in fact, but he chose to actively ignore the oddity of it – he came to terms with how easily you were able to render his senses useless whenever you came into the field of his view wearing something as pretty as the dress you picked for the date that day. It was in a shade of pink that you deemed similar to the color of his hair, a dusty rose, you called it, and Sukuna wasn’t sure exactly how much truth was that, but he couldn’t care less about it when you looked so drop dead gorgeous. When he watched you walking next to him through the crowded alleys in the park nearby your apartment building, he couldn’t help but notice only you in the mass of people around him. He felt like a teenager in a way, with his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage with pace similar of this after sprinting for long time. You were capable of triggering reactions in his body that he thought were long gone with the days of his youth but he was fine with it. As long as he could witness your beauty, he was fine with everything.

Sukuna laughed gravelly as the sequence of memories played in his mind – the dark sound of his voice causing two police officers outside the bars of his cell to tremble. Oh, how much he hated you and your stupidly breathtaking face for whatever the hell you did to him. If he could, he would tell you what he thinks of it right now and if not careful enough, he might tell you a little too much. Confess maybe. Yeah, he might do that someday. And maybe move out somewhere where you’d truly be safe. Where he wouldn’t feel like a fucking idiot for saying words that are so damn obviously a lie.

Moving out felt like a good idea. In couple of years, when he’s done ruling the criminal forces, he could take you out of Japan, somewhere far away and protect you from any harm. He’d take you somewhere warm, where he could shamelessly admire the way your skin tone looks under the golden rays of sun and the way your eyes shine and glisten like the most expensive and rare gemstones. The thought of you brought a wide smile to his face, as the picture spread in front of his closed eyelids. In the cold of his cell, he could almost feel the burning touch of your fingers tracing the shapes of his body.

* * *

Sixteen days.

It’s been over two weeks since you last saw Sukuna and it was getting harder and harder to go about your days. You missed him. You missed his face, his strong arms that manhandled you around despite your playful taps and tugs. You missed the huskiness of his voice, the low purrs he made in the morning whenever he’d nuzzle his nose against your temple inhaling the scent of your skin that he swore he was addicted to. And above all, you were worried and restless, and scared.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your mind was flooded with memories of the Sunday date you went on with Ryomen. He picked you up and handed you a little bag filled with your favorite mochi – the ones stuffed with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, a delicacy made in only one place in Tokyo and you remember how your heart swelled with warmth and love when you realized he had driven to that shop on the other side of the city just to get you few pieces of sweets. He was wearing his usual, black dress pants and a leather belt, perfectly polished boots and a dark grey sweater that made him look both casual and dangerous, with the tattoos around his wrists exposed under the rolled-up sleeves and his sharp features, that somehow whenever were turned towards you seemed a little bit softer.

You felt like a princess next to him, you felt loved and protected with his large hand enveloping your smaller one in his warm embrace. It was perfect. It was perfect until–

You didn’t exactly pick up what happened and how it happened. Even now as you think of it, you can’t truly recall how that tale-like evening turned into a mess that led you to lose your sleep every night that followed. It was a flash. One second you were leaning into Sukuna’s palm, greedy to steal his warmth and love and next one you were pushed tightly against his chest behind a bench. His hand, that was embracing you with as much delicacy as one would use to touch a doll made of porcelain was suddenly pressed harshly to the side of your head, covering your ear. Someone was shooting, Ryomen was shooting. You felt the impact of each bullet being extracted from his weapon. Each one of the subtle shakes of his muscular body reverberated throughout your smaller frame. You heard guns, despite his effort to protect your eardrums, but the loud explosive sound mixed with screams of people around was loud and clear in your head. An echo of danger and violence that you witnessed firsthand even though the man that held you did everything he could to protect you from the event.

You remember vividly the moment Sukuna groaned and cussed lowly. It followed a soft tremble of his large body and at first you didn’t realize what happened, but then you felt the unexpected wet warmth on one of your hands. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he was telling you over and over again as your eyes began to water at the realization that one of your palms was covered in blood. His blood.

“It’s just a scratch,” he was lying to you, but you didn’t know it was a lie until you saw him later. The magazine in his gun was empty sooner than you thought it will be and the foreign shooting continued. It seemed like there were few attackers, but you couldn’t tell where all of it was coming from. All you remember was that you stayed hidden in the large body of your lover for the entire time until the police sirens broke the scene.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, doing everything in your power to hold back sobs, as he kept you close to himself. You knew that police couldn’t be good for him and if not for you, he would most likely run away somehow, but he stayed there, behind the bench, holding you tightly and making sure not a single bullet could land on your fragile body.

He didn’t look mad, not even annoyed, when he was telling you what to do next and how to act in the face of what was to come, and even though you had the hardest time registering it through the immense fear you felt regarding his future, you were nodding. He was calm, and you thought that he stayed calm for you because the scene of shooting was enough of a distress for you already. And then, you saw him in handcuffs, with his hands shackled behind his back, guided towards the police car. Cops that were responsible for escorting him looked almost funny next to his towering frame and if he only wanted, he would quite easily throw those officers away. But he didn’t. And he didn’t do it to save you.

You remember the last time you saw him he sent you a smile, more so a smirk, when one of those cops harshly pushed his head down, making sure he got into the car. Few moments later, he was gone and you were left with the mess of the crime scene and the burden of a witness.

Later, you were informed by one of his pawns that it’s not gonna take long, but you knew that things were serious because few days slowly turned into a week and then two weeks and he still was in jail. And you couldn’t go visit him because he said so. You stayed in his house, safe and sound in the bed you always shared with him, except now you were alone and cold. You missed him. And you were worried.

It killed you inside to think Sukuna might face charges. A life sentence, most likely. There was only so much that you knew about his criminal past and you were sure that he kept many secrets from you, that he wanted to save you from the heavy burden of his misdeeds and cruelty. You knew how dangerous his lifestyle was, how dark was the path he chose to fallow and you knew that even someone as strong as him couldn’t escape the jurisdiction forever. But why now?

You couldn’t shake off the devastating feeling of emptiness whenever you wandered between the luxurious interiors of his mansion. It felt like you couldn’t stop worrying, day in and day out you were thinking if he was alright. Was he properly fed? He told you that he won’t contact you while in jail to protect you, but all you wished for was just to hear his voice. You were worried about the way authorities treat criminals of his sort. What will they do to him? The mere thought of torture or interrogation filled you with dread and anxiety. You never felt so alone and helpless.

* * *

It took too long.

In fact, detention took much longer than Sukuna anticipated but time behind the bars was nothing but an entertainment for him. It was amusing, it allowed him to let loose. Surrounded by an air of sadistic satisfaction he didn’t get to experience in years, he played game of pushing and pulling, a game of power. Despite being enclosed and surrounded by dozens of officers and guards, Sukuna had a sense of control over his situation, and it amused him. He was enjoying the misery that he caused others, relished in the fact that he was feared and hated. It made him almost giddy. There was a twinkle in his eye and a playful grin on his lips, he relished the experience.

“I’ve got few questions to you.”

He smirked, sitting smug and relaxed. For the nth time he was questioned; a futile attempt of getting information out of him, yet another display of the illusionary power that authorities thought they had but lacked severely. It made Ryomen laugh out loud each time he sat against a new face, it pleased him, he loved the feeling of having the interrogator’s full attention. Detectives that tried to enforce the law onto him looked tough, each one of them, until they dropped their weight onto the metal chair in the interrogation room. The heaviness of the sinister aura was unnerving to anyone who dared to approach and the criminal enjoyed breaking them one by one.

“Do you?” Sukuna spoke, his voice low and menacing, but bearing a thrill of amusement and excitement. The heavy chains that grounded his frame clinked as he moved just slightly and the shiver that went down the spine of the man in front of him did not escape his watchful eye. “Afraid?”

“Hardly,” a tone of false confidence responded to the question and Ryomen chuckled. To him, this was a game, and he was winning. He found joy in annoying the interrogator, knowing that he couldn’t get anything out of him. It was stimulating, it was fun. It was a game of cat and mouse. It felt euphoric to answer the questions, knowing that his words were confusing, that he was able to mess with the man’s head, make him question his own judgement.

Years and years of being on the top of mafia managed to clear his memory of being vulnerable and the caricature of it that he was now experiencing served for a nice refresher. He felt excitement to play with the law and as he sat there, restrained by metal bounds, he realized why he became a criminal in the first place. The constant chase of thrill and power was what made him who he was.

As the detective sat there, intimidated more and more with each passing second, Sukuna watched the disaster unraveling with a dark glint in his eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the tension and knew that chills were running down the spine of his current opponent. He was imposing, savoring the fear and the exquisite feeling of danger that surrounded him. It was intoxicating, it made him feel alive. He played with the interrogator as if the predator would play with its pray, he stared at him with a small grin of pure evil.

“You’ve been stubborn this whole time,” the officer said, clearing his throat and straightening his spine to make himself appear bigger but to Ryomen, he was merely a source of amusement. The criminal stayed relaxed and leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his own face of death and the eyes of the person in front of him.

“Was I stubborn?” He questioned, his tone low and menacing and his lips stretched slowly, baring the teeth. “You’ve got me all chained up and still, you can’t get your job done?”

“You’re chained up because of the potential threat you might pose.”

Sukuna laughed. A raspy and low chuckle came from his throat; a dark omen that hung heavy in the air as if signifying the upcoming danger. It was cold and malicious, an ominous showcase of his real persona, of someone who has no compassion and knows no mercy. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of sweat running down the face of the man in front of him. He exuded an aura of fear, leaving everyone in the room unsettled.

“If I only wanted to, I could rip out your throat with my bare teeth.” Ryomen’s voice was low, it was quiet and nearly whisper like but the message it carried was more than enough to freeze the blood inside the veins of the interrogator.

“I assume you’re familiar with the idea of good cop bad cop method,” the man spoke again after a moment of dread. He cleared his throat once more, squared up his jaw.

“And which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither, but allow me to show you something,” interrogator reached to the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone with his sweaty palms and pressing down few buttons.

The moment Sukuna looked down on the screen, his expression changed. A ghost of anger washed over his features as he took in the picture. Suddenly, he felt a wave of burning hot filling his veins and reaching his face; a dizzying sensation of dread and rage and then he realized that the power he wielded was nothing. With his eyes fixed on the little phone and his jaw clenched, shaken by the rush of adrenaline and with his knuckles white, Sukuna Ryomen experienced acknowledgement. An epiphany of sorts. The illusion of might and influence burst like a bubble made of soap and slowly he realized that he’s nothing but–

“Seeing something familiar?”

–weak.

» PART FIVE SOON

taglist: @yihona-san06 , @tiredscavengerskeleton , @son4aras , @vixorell , @cecesharktales , @isleqt , @thickmacandcheese, @captainchrisstan, @bbylime, @sad-darksoul, @shartnart1, @kiki17483, @grimreaqueer, @phoenix-eclipses, @fan-of-encouragement, @valleydoll, @aleeeeeeees-stuff, @marifujioka, @going-to-californiaxx, @just-pure-trash, @edenofeve, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @thigh-o-saur, @heyohalie, @matchat3a, @bubblearts, @littlemisspropaganda, @aconstructofamind, @lawislife18, @rzcnlb, @sunukissed, @b3llair3, @lzaj19 , @sanzusforeverwife, @annshz, @mrs--imperfect, @kaminari-no-ritsusha, @gojos-princesa, @burpzz

410 notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 1 year

Text

The story of my 3-year-long quest to identify a very rare bird

So I've been trying almost since I moved here to figure out what bird made this strange call that I sometimes heard near my house:

I tried to google "european bird that sounds like a laughing hyena?" and also to imitate the noise over the phone for a friend who once took an online bird course, but she had no idea. (Well, she said "that's a hyena." I said, "but I hear it all the time! Near my house!! Wait I'll do it better." She said, please stop making a hyena noise :(( and I stopped because the cats thought I was losing my mind)

Eventually I managed to record the actual bird call on my phone, and used a Shazam app for birds—but once again, no luck. The first app I tried just assumed it was being trolled and was like "it's you, isn't it? That's not a bird that's your stupid human laugh, you're making fun of me. I'm not an idiot"

The second birdsong app was more insecure and apologised a lot for failing to identify my bird. I thought it must be a rare bird! (The only uncommon bird I know of in this region is the vulture but it sounds less like a hyena and more like if elephants were birds.) Every time I heard the call (usually during the day) I opened the window trying to a) get a better recording so my app would finally have an epiphany, and b) see something flying off a tree.

At one point I was cutting brooms in the pasture and heard the call very loudly, as if the bird was just a few metres away, and it wasn't coming from the sky. I googled every possible version of "flightless (?) bird that nests in thorny bushes?" and found nothing, and started wondering if it was actually a mammal. But I couldn't think of any plausible local mammal that would make this sound—definitely not a fox or badger, who say WAOOHHH, and nothing like the polite whistle of marmots. We've got pine martens in the woods and I found a video called "mating pine marten scream bark" and thought oh!! that must be it! ... but then I listened to it and it sounded like yiiiaaaaaeeeeee, like if you stepped on a baby banshee's toe, nothing at all like the heheeheuruurhh of a hyena who just heard a good joke.

Anyway, this morning I was in the pasture and I once again heard the hyena laugh! I was standing by the moose butler tying up the hay net, away from any trees or shrubs and the call came from just behind me. I turned around thinking there was absolutely no way for the mystery bird to hide, it had landed on the ground behind me and this time I was going to see it!

And

it was HER:

Absolutely no doubt. I saw Pampy's throat vibrating along with the last echoes of the hyena laugh. All these years I've been saying that llamas are very quiet animals who just make cute little "hum-hum" sounds (I rarely hear adult llamas humming to one another, it's mostly for mother llamas to communicate with their baby and with me) and I had no idea that the shrieking hyena-bird I occasionally heard outside my house was Pampelune! I googled "llama alarm cry" and immediately found youtube videos featuring llamas making this exact sound. There was a stray dog nearby this morning that Pandolf eventually chased away, so maybe Pampy was the first to hear him and sounded the alarm. Maybe she uses this cry to tell Pan to go do his guard dog job, because he left the pasture and ran into the woods when she made the sound (while I was turning round like "aha! you can't run, hyena-bird!")

I wanted to share this discovery! I've had llamas for nearly 4 years and I'm only now finding out that they can laugh like hyenas when the situation calls for it. I feel bad for the poor birdsong app that I've repeatedly gaslighted feeding it a llama call and insisting that it identify this bird for me while it hung its head in shame like "I swear I don't have your bird in my database. I'm so sorry. I'm a bad app."

Llamas are fascinating creatures. Please experience their majestic alarm call again, and be alarmed:

#crawling along #you can look it up on youtube if you want to check with your own eyes (and ears)#i would understand the scepticism. it seems like such a random sound for llamas to make!#also as i started writing this post i thought i'd check what hyenas actually sound like and #it's not like that at all ! i assumed they had a mean-spirited cackle because of the lion king i think #when really it's more of a charming good-natured giggle

4K notes · View notes

viviiyon · 4 months

Text

Karplooey this came to me in a dream

Additional doodles

Okay ngl i planned to post this a couple days ago but i procrastinated too much and then all of a sudden today i had like another epiphany so you guys get alternate design concepts-

I have no idea the mechanics of how this can work but shhh don't think about it too much ill figure it out soon-

Goonight guys ill respond to asks first

#undertale yellow #undertale yellow fanart #undertale yellow au #ut yellow #uty #uty fanart #uty clover #uty flowey #clover uty #ghost! clover au #thats what im calling it #what if clover the hit game undertale yellow back but different #mail delivery clover lol

586 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress.

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry.

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating.

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #marvel #mcu #thor #avengers

285 notes · View notes

auspicioustidings · 5 months

Text

The Revelation

Summary: You are pretty happy with the cult you have made for yourself, but when two newcomers show up you can't help but think how far you could go with this.

(this is a one-shot, I stg if your only comment on this is to say 'part 2' I will feed you to the tomato plants! If you like it and have brain worms about it by all means send those to me and we can bounce ideas around)

Words: 6.6k

CWs: Cult shit, dubcon (everyone is manipulating each other here), light petplay (hope you're proud of yourself Bo I am incapable of writing Ghoap without Johnny being a puppy now), smut, murder, slight allusion to cannibalism (in a round about way, just putting it here for safety), Catholicism

The Death of God happened on a gloomy Thursday afternoon. One moment he had been mowing the lawn and the next thing he had an epiphany about hating his suburban life, hating his suburban wife, hating the 2 kids and hating the lawnmower he had spent his last bonus on.

The Revelation happened on a sunny Friday morning when you had popped up on his tiktok feed and told him that you understood him, that you were there for him. He had made his way to the commune, telling his wife it was just a visit to find himself. And he did. Which of course meant he never came home.

Truly you would consider yourself some what of a miracle working taking in this portly, charisma void of a businessman and turning him into some semblance of interesting. Well as interesting as anyone in this little slice of heaven. He had a fascination with growing tomatoes now. Good for him.

The hundreds of little deaths of God had been great for business. When someone had a crisis, when someone thought they were broken, when someone just couldn't fucking take it anymore, that's when they were so desperate to believe in something that you could make them happy with a smile and a kind word every so often. You could keep them happy (well, what they believed was happy and wasn't that all that mattered?) by keeping them a little tired, a little hungry and occasionally a little high. Good for the soul really, that's what you always said.

Surely you deserved to live on a steady diet of champagne, strawberries and decadence for all the good work you did. They all understood how difficult it was to be you. And despite your trials weren't you still so lovely to them? Even when they acted out you were gentle in your reminders that they needed fixing, that you were only ever there to help, that their friends and families would try and convince them otherwise because they didn't understand what it was to be broken. You opened your arms to them always, it was in their nature to err and in yours to forgive.

Honestly you could keep this up for the rest of your life. A small group of people devoted to you, happy in their worship and happy in their toil. No violence needed to keep them compliant, just a soft touch and the occasional psychological torture as necessary. You had no aspirations to go beyond this, you had it good. No need for a death cult or to make yourself an actual God to them. You already had your champagne and strawberries after all, life was good.

–

They were big, these two new men to your little oasis. It would be a tricky thing to half starve them you thought, but then it would also be a shame to have them lose all that bulk that you found you quite enjoyed looking at. Still, it was important for enlightenment and all that.

So you gave them a steady supply of soft smiles and reassuring touches, a diet of “yes this is an eco-living commune!” and “oh I never thought anyone would want to join me out here, I just got very lucky that so many wonderful people share the same morals.” They went easy of course, ex-military, used to structure and relying on someone above them to do the thinking. Perfect for you really, just two attack dogs that were impeccably trained.

They neglected to tell you that they hadn't been regular military, that they had been high ranked special operators in an elite task force. That would have made you suspicious after all and it was better you thought them stupid. Johnny had seen you on tiktok and wanted you and Simon never denied his boy anything, so here they were, playing you completely into their hands.

First it was getting themselves special privileges, unlimited access to food, a home right next to yours, full evenings of rest. Hadn't been hard to make you think it was your idea.

“Och it's alright lass, I ken we're naw military anymore. Dinnae need tae be a lean, mean, killing machine oot here.”

“Of course not Johnny, I'd hope you think you're very safe here.”

“Aye, feel safe with you. Ye look after us. Wish ye would let us look after you more!”

“I don't need anymore than I already have, but it's so wonderful of you to say, truly.”

Then a few days later when there had been time for that little declaration to settle in.

“Simon! How are you, I didn't see you yesterday.”

“Sorry, pulled my shoulder something awful. Felt like a right git not being able to do work properly.”

“Oh that's terrible, how did you pull it?”

“Ah just lack of training is all. Too used to being strong, retirement doesn't really lend itself to that.”

“You're still plenty strong!”

“I hope so. Some of the things I hear about what people's families think of you… if it ever came down to it, I want you to know I'd protect you with my life. Both me and Johnny would, strong or not.”

You had really been given an absolute gift here. That was something that had been making you a little paranoid. If family members escalated to violence there was really nothing you could do. You were a lover (here meaning awful con artist but that was just semantics) not a fighter. And now there was a solution right in your lap.

“How would you and Johnny feel about being security then? I'd hate to think we'd ever need it of course, but it would make people feel safer. Some of their families are terrible people I'm afraid, I don't want anyone to get hurt because someone tries something violent” you said gently, of course concerned for these innocent people being viciously abused by their awful families (these brainwashed people being taken by their loved ones to recover and live meaningful lives again, lives which did not involved maintaining your champagne and strawberry habit).

“If you ask us of course we'd never say no, it's just… would it be ok to have an hour a day to train? It's such an honour to protect this place, not looking to half arse it.”

“Of course! Come to my house with Johnny after supper and we can discuss some accommodations for your new roles.”

–

“How does that sound?” you asked, soft as silk.

You knew how it sounded, it sounded like you were the damn second coming. Giving them unrestricted food and sleep, telling them you'd have a house for them built right by your side? You knew it was working by how Johnny's eyes had went big and wet, projecting puppy-like adoration. And Simon? Oh that big, delicious man stood and walked over to you so he could kneel at your feet. Fuck you had never felt better about yourself.

“We don't deserve so much of your consideration. I-” he said, the first time you had heard him struggle to get words out through his emotion. “I want to thank you properly.”

He said it like it was a revelation and it peaked your interest. You could have squealed with delight when his cheek leant against your knee, your dress pushed by his face to let skin meet skin, eyes locked with yours as he turned to kiss your flesh. You hadn't fucked any of your followers, too messy. But these weren't regular followers anymore right? No, these were special followers. And it had been so long and he was looking at you like he was desperate to give you any pleasure he could.

Oh Simon was desperate all right, had been thinking about getting you sloppy and pathetic for him since Johnny had excitedly shown him that bloody video of you acting like an innocent little lamb. He wanted to just barrel in, bend you over and claim you right away. It was Johnny who insisted it would be more fun to trick you, who had whined like a bitch about it until he got his way. Bloody MacTavish. He really needed to train those puppy dog eyes right out of the boy. Those had got him to indulge in all sort of risks already. Nearly fucked the whole plan right up when you had come dangerously close to catching him balls deep in Johnny in your bed, absolutely ruining him as per his own puppy dog eyed request.

For his part Johnny was positively giddy. He might give away the game if he really got to watch Simon taste you. Would he play gently with you? Oh my God would he pretend he was inexperienced to make you feel superior? Let you think you were guiding him? That might kill him dead. He tried to not fucking salivate and start panting at the thought of it.

“Then thank me properly.”

Fuck the way his eyes lit up at that. This gorgeous man wanted you, he wanted to please you. As a hand squeezed your calf and he started to drag his mouth up your bare leg you felt the sick thrill of wondering how far they would go for you. Already people had given up families, friends, wealth. You had never pushed it beyond, horrified whenever you thought about how delicious it would be if they would die for you, kill for you and so shoving those dark thoughts to the back of your mind.

But you didn't want Simon to die for you. You did want to see how far you could push, how deep his devotion ran. To that end you wove fingers through his hair and pulled him off of your thigh, his eyes flickering from your wet panties sticking to your cunt up to your own eyes in question.

“I want you to kiss Johnny.”

You said it like a woman possessed. Fuck. That's exactly what you wanted. You wanted these big masculine men to fuck against their own desires but do it for you. They were dumb jocks really, probably had never fumbled around with another man before. They'd find it hard, find it wrong. You didn't really consider yourself a bad person before this moment, just a clever one. This was straying into something else, some monstrous part of you that was salivating with the thought of finally being released.

“Will you do that for me?”

You heard a choked sort of noise and looked over to see Johnny hiding his face in his hands. Of course, big Scottish man must be scared of doing such a thing. Or rather having such a thing done to him. You imagined it would be some attack to his sense of self to have a bigger man press a kiss onto him. Fuck maybe he would tear up. Maybe he would fully cry if Simon pushed inside of him. You hoped that God really was dead because if not you were sure They'd have some stern words for you after this.

“Oh I've never…”

Fuuuuuck. Simon's vulnerable eyes darting from Johnny to you were liable to make you cum on the fucking spot. You smiled indulgently down on him, running a hand over his face is a caress.

“You know I only ever do what's best for you don't you? I wouldn't ever ask you to do anything that isn't for the greater good. Do you believe in me Simon?” you said, the years of practice infusing your tone with a cloying sweetness.

“Yes” he replied, barely a breathy whisper of affirmation.

His glazed eyes looked at you with such adoration before he nuzzled his face into your hand and left a kiss there before making his way across to where Johnny was sitting on the sofa, face still hidden in his hands. He went over on his knees, crawled. You pressed your fingers against your throbbing clit, cupping yourself to try and tell your body to calm down because there was so much more to come.

Simon crawled between Johnny’s legs, going up on his knees and grabbing Johnny’s nape to drag his face down. He was whispering something in his ear, maybe trying to settle him, trying to assure him this was what they needed to do for you. Of course had you been aware Simon was hissing at Johnny to keep it together, to stop laughing about how easily you were falling for this, then the whole thing would really have been ruined. Luckily Johnny was still a soldier, Simon still his LT, so when he was ordered to put his game face on he did it. And luckily Johnny was still a good boy, Simon was still his master, so he knew that squeezing at his pup's nape always got that furrow in his brow to relax, got him eager to please and ready to tear up at the first little tease or overstimulation.

It was really destiny that you would be this level of power hungry, this eager to push and see what you could make people do. He had been training Johnny to put all his eager to please energy to good use for years, had turned a feral mutt into a feral mutt with impeccable training. The chance to turn a corrupt fox into a corrupt fox whose only desire was to be stroked and pampered was making him painfully hard. Johnny had been right, tricking you was far more delicious than just forcing you into it.

When he moved Johnny’s hands from his face it was to reveal a man looking ruined, looking liquid eyed and flushed. Simon mouthed a good boy to him before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was calculatedly shy and tentative and he kept a steadying hand on Johnny’s knee, squeezing when he felt he might lose control and start panting and licking his way into his mouth as he usually tried to do. Simon couldn’t very well punish him right now without giving the game away, so he just had to use the suggestion of a future punishment.

After the first peck you watched a slow and decadent slide into forbidden desire. They got a little bolder with each press of lips, seemed to squirm a bit more with the struggle of it feeling good but wrong. When Simon pulled away and Johnny whined despite himself you slid your hand past your waistband, needing to touch yourself or you’d die.

“You’d like it if Simon used his tongue wouldn’t you Johnny? Would be nice to feel it against yours. It’s important that you two are close isn’t it? To do your jobs well that is.”

Johnny would have agreed with full enthusiasm and pounced Simon to get them both on the floor so he could rut his hips down into the cock he was desperate for, but the hand at his bad knee squeezed again and the spark of pain reminded him of the mission. So instead he looked at you, teary and unsure.

“H-his tongue? I… I’m naw…”

“You’re not what Johnny?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Who told you that?”

You watched him play with the thin chain around his neck, the crucifix falling out of his shirt. Catholic. Oh this must be even more torturous for him. No matter, you had killed plenty of Gods already, you could kill his. Watch guilt eat and eat and eat at him until finally he gave in to the desire. Gave in to you. Let any other divine figure die in favour of a new God.

“Oh Johnny, do you think I would lead you into temptation? It’s ok, I would never make you. If you don’t like it that’s fine, you can both call it a night hm? Security is a tough job, I would never think less of you for not being up to the task. My fault really, I must have mistaken the potential I saw in you.”

He surged forward and shoved his tongue past Simon’s teeth and you moaned deeply, fingers so slippery that getting proper friction on your clit was a challenge now. You did not think you had ever been so wet in your life, feeling slick trickle out of you as they clumsily seemed to fight for dominance, saliva dripping down Johnny’s chin from how much he was trying to follow your instructions, how deep he was trying to pull Simon’s tongue with his into his mouth.

When they next pulled away they both seemed dazed, like they couldn't believe they had just done that. Poor Simon turned to look at your pleadingly, legs widening so you could see he was straining against his pants. He was rock solid from making out with Johnny and you were cumming all at once, hips rolling in time with your fingers as you breathed out instructions with your cunt still clenching in waves.

“Good, so good for me. Want you both to cum, get all of that tension out. Wouldn't ever leave you wanting would I?”

They both looked needy, but the fact that they quietly waited for instructions on how to cum was possibly the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

“It's OK, you can help each other. That's what it's all about here isn't it? Helping those in need in the community, and you're both in need. Jerk your cocks together, it'll be bonding for you to cum together like that.”

They fucking did it. Simon shoved his pants down enough to free the absolute monster of a cock he had and dragged Johnny only his lap on the floor. Johnny's cock was thick as anything and just as hard. Fuck the image of Johnny taking Simon’s cock, taking every hard inch of him in his ass. Crying about how it wouldn't fit, how it was wrong. Clutching his crucifix. You needed to make it happen soon. Maybe you could make Johnny wear a plug, say it was part of training. Get him ready to be fucked by his friend and once superior without him ever realising that's what you were doing.

Their precum was already making the slide of it easier as Simon took the lead, big hand wrapping around both of them and slowly pumping, staring at it in fascination. You were slowly overstimulating your clit, feeling that tension start growing again already.

“Spit on it Johnny.”

He did it without hesitation, his saliva making Simon’s jerking squelch. It didn't take long until Johnny was begging, needing to cum. You didn't even register that it wasn't you he was looking at as he begged, you were too lost in sensation, eyes locked on their cocks rubbing together.

“Go on, cum. Both of you.”

Simon sped his hand and his low grunt (the ‘s’ok pup, cum’ so low you hadn’t heard it over your pleasure) combined with Johnny's drooling and panting sent you spiralling over the edge again as they both shot ropes of sticky cum all over each other.

Fuck. What else could you make people do?

–

Over the next few weeks life got even easier for you. Simon and Johnny were excellent right hands, earning respect from all of your followers and taking on almost all of the tasks you had (which you had made sure were as minimal as possible already, the whole point of this endeavour was to live an easy life).

Simon was careful to make sure to be seen with you, start planting the seeds in people's minds that they were an extension of you. Johnny was rapidly losing patience which made him incredibly satisfying to fuck because he got to beat every single complaint out of him. It was him that wanted to go this route so he was going to finish what he started. It had been a long time since he had seen Johnny get so worked up over anything and he forgot how much he enjoyed him when he was like this, biting at every little bit of bait that Simon left with the express purpose of having an excuse to punish him later for it.

Johnny needed putting down when he got this wound up, at this point Simon had taken him over his knee at least once a day, collared and leashed him most nights, fucked him silly so much that he was constantly aching and plugged to keep ready for a quickie when he needed it. Which right now was inhumanly often and with them still in the bunkhouse they were having to get very creative with the venue. Johnny was going especially feral given that you had only been alone with them once more since you had promoted them and you had acted like last time had never happened. Clever actually, Simon had to hand it to you, you were very good at playing with people. He could see the little glimmer in your eye, the delight at seeing how Johnny seemed to be vibrating with anticipation of something that never came. You were setting him up to beg, making sure that when he gave in and went directly against his God that it would be him pleading for you to let him do so.

It wasn’t like you had ever been close enough to tell, but that little cross around Johnny’s neck had SR carved into the back of it. Simon had corrupted the Roman Catholic out of this pup years ago, the cross only came out on special occasions when Johnny wanted to play coy and innocent or when Simon wanted to remind him who he belonged to (because it certainly wasn’t a God, it was his fucking lieutenant). Well and now, when they both knew the sight of it would give you such a power trip that you’d fall right into their trap.

“I was thinking about your house” you said, the three of you standing where the foundations were already being put down.

“Aye?”

“It just seems such a waste when I have extra bedrooms in my home.”

“It would be such an honour to stay in any of them. Would we not be intruding?”

“Of course not Simon, you are my right hand men now. It makes sense for you to stay close to me. To one another.”

You swore you could see Johnny’s ears perk up, a phantom tail flicking quickly behind him in rapt attention at that. Of course their minds would go there, just like you wanted them to. It hadn’t been too difficult for you to be patient, to play with them so that you didn’t push too far too fast. It was something you were very good at.

“Would you… still let us build something here?”

“Oh?”

“I think a temple of sorts would be nice. Somewhere for you to relax. You work so hard for all of us and if you are taking us into your space I’d hate for you to have nowhere to go to meditate alone.”

It only took a few days to wear you down. You had no idea how much influence they already had with your followers, how easy it was for them to plant that idea there and have them be the ones appealing to you to please allow them to do this for you. And while that shred of morality you had left was screaming at you not to do this, not to actually Deify yourself lest it go too far, the adoration inflated your ego and drowned your conscience out.

So they started to build your temple.

–

“Ah! Like that. That’s it, that’s what I need” you moaned out, Simon in between your legs worshipping.

You had moved them into your home, the large house comfortable and spacious in comparison to the bunkhouse the other followers stayed in, and that night Simon had come to your room and gotten on his knees for you. How could you say no to him?

The adoration of your followers was nothing compared to this. They loved you yes, but fuck Simon was reverant, tongue swirling around your cunt so there was more holy water for him to glut himself on. This was decadent, languid on your bed with him focusing entirely on your pleasure, expecting nothing in return. This man who was spending his days by your side, overlooking the building of a temple in your honour. You could not decide in this moment if you wanted him to fuck you on the altar when it was done or if you wanted to fuck him.

It was a good conundrum to have because you felt that you could simply have both. You could have whatever the fuck you wanted with this man by your side. Who could stand against him and Johnny? And who would ever worship you more? You had never actually bought your own bullshit before, but if he kept this up maybe you were some sort of God because how else could you be living this deliciously?

You tugged his hair sharply to get him off of you and pushed at him until he was on his back. You would take what you wanted from him because it was your right to do so. He did not complain as you settled your cunt on his face and rode him, if anything his clever tongue worked harder to please you. You held his head and used him, and he drank you down and thanked you for the privilege after, vanishing out of your room as silently as he had arrived.

–

It only took another few weeks for Johnny to break and oh he broke so perfectly. Simon came to your room every night to pray, and Johnny must know, must have heard how Simon spilled thank yous against your cunt even as you pushed down to deprive him of oxygen, even as you smeared your slick all over his face, moving exactly as you liked with no consideration of him. You never touched him in any way meant for his pleasure, only to use him for yours.

It was not Simon who knocked lightly on the door. Simon didn’t knock at all, he always just let himself in.

“Come in Johnny.”

He was nervous, that much was clear. You did enjoy the sight of him in only his boxers and crucifix, moonlight doing wonders in making him look incredibly edible. You wanted to knead his pecs like they were tits, wanted to sink your teeth into the meat of his neck until you tasted blood and he cried out your name instead of his God’s.

“I want…”

“Hm? You want?”

“Will ye let me please ye? I ken Si… I’m naw good enough for ye, but I want tae be. It’s just, I’ve never uh… I’m a quick study.”

And with perfect timing, in walked Simon. Couldn’t have planned it better yourself (well, actually Johnny had planned it, Simon had laughed and ruffled his hair at how eager he had been to act the part of the blushing virgin before unhooking the leash and getting him out of his collar and into his crucifix).

“Good evening Simon” you purred.

The man didn’t really acknowledge that Johnny was in the room, instead going to his place by the foot of your bed and kneeling. It was always where you started, with him lapping at you until you ordered him onto the bed or the floor so you could take what you needed. Only you pushed him away with your foot when he tried to pull at your shorts, holding him at leg length and looking at Johnny.

“Come sit will you?”

He nervously shuffled over, sitting next to you on the bed with his eyes darting uncomfortably down to Simon kneeling pretty, your foot still holding him away from you. He swallowed and you thought it sweet how he held your gaze to avoid watching as you motioned for Simon to move and he did so without hesitation. Johnny still didn’t look at him even as you put a hand to his knee to make him spread his legs enough for Simon’s broad shoulders to fit between them.

“If you want to learn I’d never stop you Johnny, I want you to be the best at the things you’d like. And I’m sure Simon makes a wonderful teacher.”

Simon didn’t need prompting, obedient and perfect boy that he was. He started licking up Johnny’s thick thigh the same way he would have if you were sitting there. Johnny, bless him, gripped onto your leg like it was a lifeline, fingers digging into the plush flesh hard enough that you imagined it may leave marks. You swallowed his loud whine with your mouth when Simon slipped his boxers down and took his hard cock right to the root. It almost made you laugh, if you tried to take that in your throat you would certainly be gagging and crying.

When you pulled away Johnny was a whining mess, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other still dug into the fat of your thigh. You wondered if he had ever gotten head. Certainly not from another man. Oh wouldn’t his priest be so disappointed in him. You could imagine a severe man in the robes of God, looking with disgust at the whore before him. But you were a kinder creature, letting him indulge in pleasure without telling him he couldn’t.

Well, to a point. You pushed Simon to stop with the frankly immaculate looking blow job when it was clear from Johnny’s hips rutting that he was close. Then you swung your leg around, straddling Johnny and squeezing yourself to him, stopping him from trying to get friction from you.

“Not yet Johnny, you need to be patient hm? Simon, open him up. Tongue first, then fingers.”

Johnny was tearing up, looking at you like he didn’t understand why you were doing this while feeling horribly guilty that he liked it. He howled when Simon’s tongue started playing at his rim, his hands gripping at your hips to try and make you move against him. You put a hand to his throat and squeezed lightly.

“It’s ok, you can take it can’t you?”

“I-I cannae, please bonnie, I’m naw- I dinnae-” he whined before he choked on nothing, eyes blown wide, “h-his tongue is, fuck it’s inside.”

“I know Johnny, I know. Is it too much then? Should I tell him to stop? If you can’t take it, then at least you tried” you said, sweet as anything but putting a tiny edge of disappointment into your tone.

“I can take it! Please, I can! Dinnae make him stop, I can take whatever ye gie me!”

“Good boy.”

Oh, the reaction to those two words was worth exploring. It was like he changed from a man to some pathetic animal, eyes watery and begging, hands pawing at your hips while his own desperately tried to buck up. You felt how he froze, heard how he choked when Simon pressed a finger into him.

“Hmm that’s it, take what you’re given, you’ll be good and hold off for me hm?” you cooed, moving a hand to run fingers under his chain, all the way around until you were behind his neck and could yank, have that crucifix choking him. “Looks better like this Johnny, almost like a pretty collar for you.”

Jackpot. Even with you clamping down to give him as little room for friction as possible you felt the hot gush of his cum, him getting there from being choked, being compared to a dog to be collared. Well if he was going to be a mutt that came without your permission, the permission of his master, then he needed to learn his place no?

“Fuck pet, told you to be patient.”

“Sorry, m’sorry bonnie. Ah! M-make him stop, s’too much!”

“Make him stop? But he’s been good for me, followed everything I’ve asked, You went ahead and finished without permission. Wouldn’t make sense to punish him and reward you, I need to be fair pet.”

He was clearly overstimulated, his hips trying to rut even as he gasped at every bit of friction he got. Oh you wanted to see him fucked out and ruined. You wanted his heart on a fucking platter.

“More Simon. Johnny here is going to let you fuck him tonight, so you need to open him up properly.”

“I-I-” Johnny stuttered, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide and wet. If you weren't so high on the decadence of having these two men at your mercy you’d have questioned just how practised that was.

“Tell me Johnny. Tell me what it is you want.”

Tell me what it is I want to hear that you want. Be a good boy, don’t disappoint me. You’d hate to disappoint me after all I’ve done for you.

“I want Simon tae fuck me tonight.”

“Good boy” you said, hammering that final nail in God’s coffin as you yanked again at the chain so hard it snapped, taking your trophy and tossing it onto your desk without ever having examined it closely.

You watched Simon ruin him at your command. You drank their praise like champagne, bit into their gratitude like strawberries bursting their juice on your chin. You were greedy in how many times you used them for your pleasure, their fingers, their tongues, the sight of them overcome with hedonistic abandon.

You felt like a God.

–

The temple was beautiful, no effort or expense spared. The first floor was a space for everyone, for the brand new community gatherings that you occasionally led but had mostly been letting Simon and Johnny lead. Above that was two glorious floors of space only for you. The only other people permitted to set foot in here were your two right hands. It was something else, being in the luxuriant bed drinking champagne and watching the two of them play with each other for your benefit.

You could not stop thinking about the way Johnny had writhed at the mention of a collar when you had taken his crucifix for yourself (it still sat on the desk right where you had left it). You could not stop imagining how such a thing would look around his thick neck, how your other followers would look at it and be jealous that he got to be so visibly claimed by you.

As always your wish was their command. Simon had presented you with a gorgeous necklace of sorts, almost a choker, the pendant a symbol you didn’t recognise.

“This doesn’t look like a collar for you.”

“It’s for you. The symbol is from the cult of Venus, we thought… well we thought if you could wear it, show people, then when we wore it…”

“You want them to know you are wearing it for me.”

Perfect fucking boys weren’t they. They didn’t just want to show up in a collar, they wanted to show up in a symbol associated with you. It was pretty enough what they had chosen, delicate and clearly made with care and devotion. You turned and lifted your hair so he could put it on you and the very next community gathering was Johnny eagerly explaining the symbol to your followers. It was etched into the temple walls soon after.

–

The realisation happened all at once. You only attended community gatherings for special occasions now and when you did they were all looking at you like you were their God made flesh. Your followers had become something else, something well beyond a little eco-living commune. That had not been your doing.

The door was locked. You could not leave your space in the Temple. Your hand flew to the back of your necklace, realising with a startle that you couldn’t take it off. Simon and Johnny never did have collars made. Why would they? You were rapidly realising they had never intended to. You looked in the mirror, tried to find a clue. The pendant… it was only when you drew it over and over again that you figured it out. This wasn’t some symbol of an old Goddess, it was the letters S R J M twisted around to make a pretty symbol. You sat and stewed, waiting for them to get back. When they did you were sat on the bed, glowering at them.

“Aww ye figure us out bonnie?”

“You played me.”

“Like a fucking violin sweetheart” Simon cooed, walking over to flick the pendant.

You huffed up at him. Everything was completely fucked now. You had all but ordered your followers to treat these two as your spokesmen. You had been slowly vanishing from public life, ingraining in their minds that you were a God who lived in a temple and only graced them with your presence when they had really earned it. All this after years of breaking them down so they thought nothing they ever did was good enough, so of course they would never think they had earned it.

And you had never used violence for anything, you were soft and lived on champagne and strawberries for fuck sake, it wasn’t like you could brute force your way out of this. You were enough of a schemer to know when you had been outplayed.

“So the little shy virginal act?”

Johnny laughed and came over to nuzzle into your hair.

“Ye’d naw believe how many times Si has been in my arse hen, this isnae even the first house of God he’s bent me over in.”

You scowled and pushed his head away, but his eyes only sparkled with excitement as he bullied it right back into nuzzling you like a fucking dog.

“Pup has been so excited about you finally figuring it out. You’ve been teasing him for months now, don’t think it’s time to give him a treat for how well behaved he’s been for you?”

It’s not like you were against the idea, it had been delicious being the dominant one all this time but there was something interesting about the idea of letting Simon take control, letting him get Johnny to fuck you the way you had let him fuck Johnny. Because that would be the case you knew now. It was so obvious knowing what you knew, you really should have figured out way sooner that Simon had always been in control. All the things you had done since he got here that you had thought your ideas weren’t yours at all, he had put them in your head.

“So that’s it then? You keep me here and take over?”

Simon was looking at you with something deranged behind those eyes. It was dreadfully exciting.

“You're coming to tonight's community gathering. You can decide if puppy gets a treat after that.”

–

The Birth of God happened on that brilliant Friday evening. One moment you had been fighting against your conscience, and the next you had let go. You had walked forward, no floated, and pressed a holy kiss to his head. Watching one of your followers plunge a knife into the heart of another on your altar, both with a smile on their faces, was fucking beautiful.

The Revelation happened about the same time. You dipped your fingers in the blood (the same colour as those tomatoes he so loved, the tomatoes that his body would feed and your followers would eat) and marked his murderer with your symbol, the initials of the men that had made you God.

Puppy had more than earned his treat.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #please read the cws #also please let me exist on champagne and strawberries because I am OVER IT #if I was not a depressed little mess and could actually write smut right now you would have gotten reader getting railed on a bloody altar #would have been great

321 notes · View notes

crisiscutie · 5 days

Note

Sorry for not clarifying! The darling's yandere son. Thank you! 😊

Okay! Looks like Mother Darling has quite the challenge!

Content Warning: DDDNE. Yandere Sephiroth. Mommy Kink. Curvy Darling. Dubcon.

Yandere Son Sephiroth musings here.

༻❁༺ Your son's clinginess hadn't gone unnoticed by you, especially since you two are planning on leaving Mideel soon. You planned to take him to AVALANCHE HQ.

༻❁༺ Through, it could've just been him wanting to make up for the lost time. But no matter, it's best for him to start building a life of his own.

༻❁༺ It was good that you two lived separately, at least, but he still visited you constantly.

༻❁༺ It was so difficult to pull away from your sweet boy every time he hugged you or tried to cling to you, or even when you told him no. You felt his hurt and disappointment, especially in his kitten eyes. Despite this, never stopped showering you with affection.

༻❁༺ Sephiroth himself felt his heart breaking. He didn't want to think that you were rejecting him, but it felt that way. He dropped everything from his past life. He had nothing left but you. The mere thought of the last thing he had abandoning him was unbearable.

༻❁༺ To address his clinginess, you introduced the idea of him finding a special woman to fall in love with.

༻❁༺ He clearly wasn't interested in such a prospect, even when you tried to nudge him toward certain women who appear reserved and respectful (not fangirls) in town.

༻❁༺ ...Perhaps it wasn't helpful when you embarrassed yourself and him at the town market, loudly asking what he thought of the cute, shy cashier that rang up your groceries.

༻❁༺ Despite the attention from everyone else, Sephiroth wasn't fazed. He just had no interest in the woman or anyone else. While he looked bored, you blushed and covered your mouth as you two walked away.

༻❁༺ As you were giving up on that idea, something surprising happened later on. He asked you for more advice about it!

༻❁༺ You gladly shared your thoughts/expertise on how to impress a lady, using yourself as the lady and him as the man as examples.

༻❁༺ You even taught him how to tango, and he seemed to really enjoy it. Throughout the final week at Mideel, he asked you more and more for advice, which you happily gave him.

༻❁༺ Sephiroth planned to wait on using the same advice you gave him and revealing his epiphany to you. But when he secretly watched you bid subtle farewells to your friends, the orphans, and everyone else in Mideel, dark emotions raged like a storm inside him.

༻❁༺ He came to your house later, with a gentle smile on his face as he watched you destroy some useless files you didn't need.

༻❁༺ He couldn't help but felt his hard cook straining against his pants as he noticed the sweet white dress you were wearing. The dress accentuated your squishable tummy, which had a subtle jiggle as you moved.

༻❁༺ He hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Mother, are we ready to leave tomorrow?"

༻❁༺ You nodded at him, kissed him on the cheek, and kept destroying the files. He laid his head on your shoulder, almost kissing your neck. That is, until his slit eyes glimpsed a file that mentioned the JENOVA project, prompting him to swiftly take it from your hands.

༻❁༺ You stared at him worryingly, knowing that the file itself contained little information. The project was unfamiliar to you, as you were forced into it as a guinea pig. Your memories of it were hazy too. You couldn't even tell your son who his father was.

༻❁༺ You were ready for Sephiroth's interrogation, but he surprisingly set the file aside without uttering a single word about it.

༻❁༺ "Mother," he whispered into your ear, his voice dripped with honey. "I had an epiphany..." He traced circles on your palm while using his other hand to massage your back.

༻❁༺ You stayed in place. A part of you yelled at yourself to move away from him like you've been doing lately, but you didn't. It... felt good.

༻❁༺ "That special woman you told me to find... I think it's you," he whispered, his hands caressed your curves and then squished your tummy. He loved the way your body felt. It's like a stress ball filled with motherly love. It was one of the many reasons he needed to hold you so tightly.

༻❁༺ He focused his attention on your thick thighs, giving them a few squishes too. But those are just the appetizers... The main course he wanted? Your cunt.

༻❁༺ He was so eager, he knelt down and turned your body around, almost ripping your lace panties to get access. He watched your erected clit tremble, giving it a brief lick while his fingers toyed with your juicy labia.

༻❁༺ He then used both hands to spread your meaty cunt, stretching it wide. With his slit eyes beaming in amazement, he found himself lost in a euphoric trance.

༻❁༺ It's a moment of pure wonder as he stared at the lovely orifice that birthed him. He gave your clit a brief kiss before forcing two fingers into your wetness.

༻❁༺ He forced his fingers deeper into your needy cunt, wanting to explore more and feel more of your juices trickle into his hand. Everything he's doing... It has felt incredibly right for both you and him, even though it was undeniably wrong.

༻❁༺ "Does it feel good, Mother?" he whispered. His warm breath grazed your gushing cunt while you unraveled before him. He wanted you to say it. If necessary, he'd rip those words out of you.

༻❁༺ Your walls gripped his fingers tightly as he scissored you. His mind happily deliberated over what he'll do to your cunt next. Fuck it savagely? Keep worshipping its holiness?

༻❁༺ Thankfully, some self-control came back to you in the last moments as you removed yourself from his fingers, holding yourself back from climaxing in front of him.

༻❁༺"I-I... I need a moment," you stammered, quickly making your way to your bedroom.

༻❁༺ He stood there, staring at your juices on his fingers while a wicked smirk played on his lips. When he looked up, his pupils dilated at the sight of those same juices trickling down your pillowy thighs as you closed your bedroom door.

༻❁༺ Oh, how much he wanted to kick your door down and fuck you into your bed... But he managed to restrain himself, unleashing a chilling chuckle afterwards.

༻❁༺ The next day, the two of you left Mideel for good. You and Sephiroth pretended as if nothing happened the day before, though the obvious tension still lingered.

༻❁༺ He doesn't understand why you wanted to deny the obvious love between the two of you, but that's okay now. Along with seeking vengeance on Shinra, he'd make you accept his love, no matter what. He will start by figuring out who or what this JENOVA is…

Well well, she's in for a fun time. 👀

83 notes · View notes

dokidokitsuna · 3 months

Text

RWBY: Next Steps

This is just a design collection (remember when I used to do those? 'Winter Mission', 'Summer Tour'?? Fun times~)...and it may be my last. Its only real purpose is to give me something fun to draw for the NeverFell Projects wrap-up series. The recent Adam and Cinder designs are technically part of this collection, too. ^^

These were much harder to do than those two, though...I've spent ~2 months chipping away at this set, trying and retrying to address several different RWBY design criticisms while still making the girls look good. ಥ_ಥ I've finally begun approaching success, though, so I wanted to talk a bit about these ideas.

Ruby The only one I managed to design in one try. ^^; This was my answer to the question I felt was posed by Ruby's Vol. 7 design: i.e. "how do we do a new Ruby design that feels more 'mature'??" Because I never liked how the V7 design attempted to do that. :/

Between the new hairstyle and the new 'generic adventurer' clothes, it felt less like they were trying to evolve Ruby Rose and more like they didn't like her original design and wanted to get as far away from it as possible. V1-Ruby was such an iconic look (and STILL IS), and yet there's no trace of it in V7-Ruby. None of the goth-lolita style or playful edge that even V4-Ruby managed to preserve...instead they just scrubbed everything out to start from scratch, with a new design that's honestly 'meh' at best.

So what I did was stick closely to V1-Ruby, while adding just a few big changes to make the look distinct. You say a 'combat skirt' is too childish for an older Ruby? Well then we'll make it shorts...but shorts that are just as frilly and cute as the original skirt, with a similar overall shape. You say her original hairstyle is too boring and 'safe'? Well, then we'll change it...by simply shaving half of it off. It's a much edgier look that simultaneously preserves the original shape of her hair: from every angle except front and back, her silhouette will remain the same.

You say you want to give her new shoes, but don't want the fandom to make fun of you for covering them in dozens of belts again? Here's a wild idea: cowboy boots. ^^ A totally unexpected, unique item that still fits in with the antique-ish vibe of her goth clothes.

Basically, I just wanted to prove that you can do something dramatically different with Ruby without completely abandoning her fashion sense.

Criticisms: The details are still lacking; I think I should work some red accents into her corset and boots. Also, I originally designed this outfit with a white shirt, and I kinda want it back (she had the team colors! R, W, B, and Y! ;_;)...the problem is that it clashes with the sheer thigh-highs. One must go...I'm sure I'll figure it out

Weiss The toughest of the bunch: I did three different Weiss designs before landing on this one. ^^;;; The big epiphany came when I realized that Weiss looks her best when she mirrors Ruby. The girls' original design concepts share a lot of features; I feel like the characters were designed to look like they belong together, and figured I might as well honor that.

ALSO-- and this was the biggest priority for Weiss' design-- I firmly believe that she should not look like a princess anymore. From a character designers' perspective, it is ludicrous that they gave her the giant Disney ballgown in the same volume where they put classism at the center of the plot and have her send her bourgeoisie father to jail. That right there is the definition of mixed messages...

I thought the whole point of Weiss' character arc was to distance herself from the uber-rich parasites of her family and fellow 'Atlas elites'. I thought we cemented that when she officially lost her "heiress" title in V4. o_O I expected her next look to ditch the crown and visually show that she's past the point of 'rebelling'-- there's no more authority in her life for her to rebel against; she's free now! But alas...

So as usual, I had to do it myself. This Weiss outfit is definitely still fancy, with the coattailed vest and ruffled sleeves, but there's a lot less 'decoration'; fewer jewels, fewer details. The construction is straightforward and simple. And of course, no more tiara. Instead I decided to give her a li'l snow pea flower and ribbon, which ended up inspiring her new periwinkle purple-y color scheme. Like her original design, it's actually fairly colorful, but does its job and puts the emphasis on the white elements.

Criticisms: ...Not many, this came out pretty good. ^^ I might reconsider the black coattails, but if I do I'll probably just switch it out with the indigo inner vest. I like the idea of her outfit construction mirroring Ruby's, but her color scheme mirroring Blake's, since they have a closer bond in NeverFell.

Blake Blake designs are notoriously difficult; if you wanna hear some great reasons why, I suggest you check out this old Twiins iink RWBY design ranking video, which always helps guide me when I do redesigns for the main 4. Anyway, this phenomenon makes it hard to describe what I did...I guess you could say I tried to combine all the best elements of all her outfits, while clinging to the 'fancy action girl' vibe of her original design.

I'm most proud of her new hairstyle-- I dunno why, I just enjoyed working on it and making those decisions. ^^ It's hard to tell, but it IS shorter; now shoulder-length instead of back-length. We make up for this with additional volume, emphasizing the waves in her hair texture by pushing them outward. And most notably: she keeps the ribbon. She just wears it differently, using it to accentuate her ears instead of hiding them. This way, we keep the point of interest on her head while still showing her character growth.

Criticisms: Infinite, countless. This is a good look, but something is definitely still off. ^^;;; I think some additional detail in certain places (not sure where yet...) might help 'finish' it, so to speak. Maybe some extra yellow accents...? Also, the bow obviously gets lost in her hair this way. I've tried several color changes and don't like any of them; I think I may just have to texture it differently in the final product. Fingers crossed...

Yang Another tough one...I only made 2 design drawings, but the colors took several rounds of trial and error. I think my excitement over finally arriving at a good color scheme TODAY was what spurred me to make this post. ^^;

Anyway...there is a specific piece of Yang design criticism I hear fairly often that drives me up the wall: people commonly complain that she doesn't wear enough yellow; that she doesn't represent her character color well because all she wears is a yellow shirt. And the character designer in me wants to rip my teeth out whenever I hear this, because it blindly ignores the giant fairy-tale-inspired mass of yellow that is her hair, and the purposely attention-grabbing pops of yellow that make up Ember Celica. They're not "clothes", technically, but they're still part of the design! It's like saying a character with green skin can't represent the color green if all their clothes are black...without realizing that maybe their clothes are black BECAUSE they have green skin, in order to draw your attention to it...!! (╬▔皿▔)╯I just jifjkdsnfksahujknsjnfufh

...Anyway, anyway...the point is, it's difficult to take a character design with so much natural yellow in it and add yellow clothes and still have it read well. But because I like a challenge, I decided to take it on. I think the difference between the mustard leather and neon yellow hair is large enough to make it work, while still feeling casual enough for everyday wear. The champagne off-white she wears in her 'Hunter' outfit (which heavily inspired this) looks great, but it feels too 'classy' to me; like something specifically meant to dazzle the audience with her beauty for one special adventure, not for her to wear often.

On that note, my secondary mission with this design was just to make Yang look cute again, by following the structure of her V1 look, and even adding a little skirt on top of her battle shorts, which looks surprisingly natural considering she almost never wears one.

I don't know what happened in the canon to make the character designer forget the 'Yellow Beauty' part of her character concept; tbh even if her gender presentation gets more masculine she can still look pretty. Designs like Ozma, V7 Qrow and V4 Ren show that they understand this, but choose to cover Yang up in flavorless sheets of beige anyway. :T Making sure she always has a boob window isn't enough; the clothes themselves need to say something too.

Criticisms: ...Honestly, none? I think this might be solid. :> We'll see what happens when I draw it properly. I hope the white socks work out, because then she'll successfully be wearing the RWBY color scheme, which fits her (former, implied...) role as the glue holding the team together.

#rwby #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #character design

124 notes · View notes

insolentgod · 6 months

Text

⚠️Attention:⚠️ very long post. It talks a little about: state of lack, take your desire off the pedestal, time it takes for a manifestation, get distracted about your manifestation , self-concept, and Cassies

one more night high and having crazy epiphanies about manifestations. and another day using a translator to translate my text to post here, because I haven't claimed to be fluent in English yet 😛 So, as I always warn, if there are possible grammatical errors, it's for this reason.

I'm here to bring you an analogy I created while discussing with a friend haha. (Yes, this time there's nothing about lana del rey!)

you know those people who humiliate themselves for others? Who do everything for someone specific to love them, try to talk to them even if it's unhealthy, or beg them to stay in their lives. (yes, it's quite depressing and sad)

i haven't been like that much in life, usually when someone didn't care about me, i cared even less about them. but I won't lie, there have been situations where I may have humiliated myself a little, but it's human.

anyway, going straight to my analogy, let's imagine that you struggling to manifest something is a friend "Cassie," and the manifestation will be her ex-boyfriend, okay? (i swear it will make sense in the end)

what I write outside the parentheses is Cassie's situation, and what's inside the parentheses is possibly the situation you're going through on your manifestation journey.

okay, you have this friend Cassie who keeps saying that her ex-boyfriend doesn't care about her, doesn't respond to messages, and shows no signs, and she's going crazy and desperate about it (just like you when you see no progress in your manifestation). so she does EVERYTHING to get him back (just like you when you try multiple methods non-stop and feel needy). and as Cassie's friend, you think, "poor cassie, she doesn't deserve to suffer like this" (and she really doesn't deserve it, just as you don't deserve to suffer for your manifestations). there are also moments when she sends a message for you saying, "I'll forget him this time, I promise." but after two days, she's there messaging him again (just like you affirm on the first day all motivated and trying to convince yourself that this time your manifestation will come true, but after a few days, you see no progress and start panicking), and then she gets very sad because she thinks they will never get back together and she will never be happy with him again (just like you think you can't manifest anything, that the universe hates you, that you will never get what you want, that the loa doesn't work). But meanwhile, there are other people out there getting back with their exes and you admire them, wondering what it would be like if it were you... (just like when you look at other people's success stories and think "why can't I do it?") spoiler: You can do it too, honey. If everyone else can do it, so can you. Wake up.

If I were Cassie's friend, I would tell her to STOP acting like that and start valuing herself and just distract herself. because let's be honest, men ALWAYS come back, right? 🤣 and many people may disagree with me on this and think that if she doesn't chase after the guy, he won't come either. but that's how it works for me, even before I started using the law. every time I started valuing myself and stopped begging for others' love, the person came to me. so let's agree with my thinking on this, okay?

and one more point that I think is worth mentioning is that if Cassie really doesn't want to do this alone, maybe a manifestation coach would be a good idea (if it were a real situation, I would suggest her to seek a therapist). There are nuances about "manifestation coaches," I honestly don't use them and I recommend working on your self-concept. but it's an option if you want, but please do thorough research and find a trustworthy one.

returning, what can you do to not be another Cassie? I'm telling you to stop doing whatever you're doing to try to achieve your desire? no. just get out of the state of neediness and desperation, like a Cassie. you don't need that, my love. you don't need to worry, "Is my manifestation coming?" You don't need to use a thousand methods because you don't think it's enough. whatever you believe will bring your desires, will indeed bring your desire. If you believe that jumping three times, building a castle, and kicking an elderly person will give you what you want, guess what? If you do all that, then you will get what you desire. and if you believe that affirming once in your life will get you a beachfront mansion, guess what? you will achieve that.

so, to not be a Cassie:

1 - trust what you're saying, please trust yourself. nnow that ONLY WHAT YOU THINK is the truth, and it will be. (my last long post talks about this exactly, I highly recommend it, okay).

2 - take your desire off the pedestal. your desire may be your biggest dream in life, I don't care. take it off the pedestal. the powerful person who can have anything they want is YOU, not your desire. tou are a thousand times greater than your desire. you don't chase after your desire, your desire chases after you. you know when manifestation coaches tell you to start manifesting just a blue butterfly or a candy? well, it's because for you, that's not difficult. It's something you find easy to manifest and know it's totally possible to have. but you can literally manifest a Porsche at the same speed as manifesting an ice cream, okay? take your desire off the pedestal; you are fully capable of having it.

3 - get out of the state of lack. In the law of assumption, some people talk a lot about states and some manifest just by being in the state of the wish fulfilled and ready, they succeed. but the state of lack is literally when you feel the lack, the absence of your desire. you don't feel like you have it or you don't feel worthy of it, so you probably fall into a spiral of despair with millions of thoughts like "what will I do if I don't achieve it?" "I don't see any progress" "time is passing and I don't have my results". Anyway,

- But what do I do to heal my state of lack?

just don't be in it 💐💐💐 yes, it's easy, okay. please believe that it's easy and it will be. I know it's very easy to affirm when you're motivated, especially after reading a success story. but motivation doesn't last forever and I don't think it's healthy for you to keep restoring your motivation by reading success stories all the time. there's nothing wrong with it, but you don't need success stories to heal. every time you feel like you're entering the state of lack, start trusting yourself. when it happens to me, I start affirming "none of this, I have my desires" "I don't care about what my 3D shows me" "I have what I want", I also imagine myself with my desire as if I really have it now. I'll admit, there are times when I start affirming this to avoid entering the state of lack and at first it feels like I'm feeling wrong, the feeling of hopelessness even. but regardless of how I feel, I keep visualizing and eventually start feeling strong and motivated again. in those moments, you have to be strong and disciplined with yourself, okay? you can do it.

4 - try not to care about time or the 3D reality. i know it's difficult, but please live in your imagination and believe that if you have it in your imagination, you have it now. about time, it depends, okay? Some people manifest in seconds because they believe they can, while others manifest in weeks because they think it takes weeks. if you're the second type of person, you can definitely manifest in seconds if you allow yourself to do so. self-concept affirmations help a lot in this aspect. Just don't worry about time in the 3D reality. If you know that in your mind you have your desire NOW, then you have it now. once you're fully living in your imagination, it will come in the 3D reality. I know it's difficult, but just trust yourself and your mind. I promise that if you live 100% in your mind, your desire can come very quickly.

5 - distract yourself! don't spend the whole day thinking about your desire. usually, the desire comes when you accept that you have it and continue living your life. I know it's complicated, especially when it's something you want, but distract yourself to avoid excessive and negative thoughts about your manifestations. and please get off tumblr for a while

6 - improve your self-concept, please. Just do that, and your manifestation journey will be much easier.

I think that's it for today. I talked a lot as always 😛😛

I usually don't respond to people asking for help here on my blog (mainly because I don't receive any requests) but if you're having problems, you can send me a message, and I'll respond ❤‍🩹 I just want to help someone like loa bloggers helped me when I needed it. good night everyone, and stay hydrated.

207 notes · View notes

call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

NEXT CHAPTER || Masterlist

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling, from which marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her but, regarding him, time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

#Arthur shelby #Arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders #Peaky blinders x reader #Arthur shelby x oc #arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fluff #Arthur shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby #Tommy shelby #Arthur Shelby x Heaven #Heaven Shelby #Arthur Shelby fluff

421 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 25 days

Text

Phases

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Implied Sexual Activity, Paranormal Investigations, Referenced Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, Friends to Lovers, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They're running through the motions, going through phases. Somehow, they always miss each other. Yet they always come back to each other

NOTE: No hate or disrespect is meant to any of the people mentioned in the story. If you find something wrong in the way I have depicted them please let me know. Just keep in mind that has in no way been my intention.

First it was Shea and Brennen.

Well, first it was Shea and Brennen came along afterwards. Or he was in the wings, so to speak.

Y/N was doing cartwheels to set the two up. She didn't expect she'd land on her head in the end. She didn't realize it until she saw them being openly affectionate with one another.

Realize that she may be a terrible friend despite her attempts.

Sure, she bent over backwards to play matchmaker between Colby and Shea, as a good friend would. But the epiphany that she may not be as happy with the product of her labor as thought she would be hit her like a train, carrying bags upon bags of self-accusations.

Because of course that burning in her gut wasn't jealousy. They're just friends, duh. The two are incredibly happy and head over heels for one another and she, as a good friend, should be happy. Proud even. Glad her efforts paid off.

Yet, she's anything but.

"Get a room already." She'd heard a playful scoff from right next to her, grabbing her attention. She'd been sitting on the ledge of the pool, damp hair curtaining her full view of the love birds across from her.

She looked over to the now occupied spot next to her. There, like a beacon of hope and comfort, sat Brennen. Her best friend. Someone she could always turn to for anything and everything. Someone who'd always catch her in open arms no matter what.

The burning in her gut turned to sickness when the idea lit up her gloomy mind. Not only the idea itself. But how quickly it got conjured up, how quickly a part of her accepted and justified it. Despite how wrong it was. Despite how low it would require her to stoop.

And stoop she did when she let the constant and trademark flirting between her and Brennen turn into something not so unserious.

That's when we're gonna switch the perspective to the other ledge, the one across from theirs. Across the pool. Where Colby and Shea were seated.

It was a hard feat - sulking in his a pit of self-pity while in her company. Shea has always been a ray of sunshine in his life. Platonically, though. He doesn't remember who came up with the concept of their relationship potentially developing into something more nor what prompted such an idea. He just knows Y/N took it and ran with it, strongly believing her best friend was madly in love with this girl and just didn't have the balls to tell her.

She did the most. Coaching him, advising him, lecturing him, hoping to finally push him into confessing feelings she had no clue were nonexistent.

Colby had tried to tell her numerous times but with no success of convincing her. She was adamant that she wanted to come through for him, saying she wanted him to do what she'd been too afraid to do on too many occasions. Which, via an overall observation, could be seen as sweet. If you were to undermine the fact that the feelings she wasn't able to express were meant for him. And that the feelings he was truly feeling were toward her. With that in mind, it's a very overdone rom-com plot.

Her reservations regarding his relationship with Shea were replicated and planted right into his chest when he first saw Brennen with his arm around Y/N's shoulders, the gesture lacking the slight platonic distance this time around.

But he knew he had no right. He viewed it as the universe showing him in a plain and cruel way that he's a coward and practically watched his train depart without making an effort of getting on it. He was aware he was grasping at straws with both his relationship and hers. There was nothing to complain about between him and Shea. She was and always will be such a lovely person. The only gripe was the fact that he went into that relationship out of defeat - seeing Y/N so eager and excited to set him up with someone else just cemented what he already feared: she felt for him none of what he felt for her. And so, continuing along his cowardly ways, he gave in. Which was so far from what Shea deserved.

Just like Brennen didn't deserve to be a second best.

He treated Y/N as nothing less than royalty. He was an incredible friend to her for as long as they've known each other and an even better boyfriend once they agreed to put a serious label on their relationship. To him, she meant the world. To her, this whole thing was just a ton of guilt she couldn't stomach. How he'd ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time to get caught up in her bullshit she'll never know. She wishes the universe was kinder to him and didn't throw him in the jaws of her self-loathing but alas maybe he was the saving grace she needed all along to get over Colby.

Yeah, well that was wishful fucking thinking.

To nobody's surprise, neither relationship stayed afloat for long.

Unlike Shea and Colby however, nothing really changed between Brennen and Y/N. The two's nearly decade long friendship withstood the year of their relationship without batting an eye. The break up wasn't so much a permanent full stop to anything potentially romantic between them. More so a delay, a postponing. Y/N couldn't deny the feelings that bloomed for him but she couldn't pretend they stemmed from upmost honesty either. She was aware her best friend deserved that honesty so until she could cleanse her system of a particular someone, she decided she would stop dragging him down with her.

But it would be so unlike Brennen to not stick around by her side regardless.

Colby and Shea distanced themselves quite a bit though. And the guilt was eating away at him. He'd pushed her away with his hollowness and numbness but didn't have the backbone to actually put an end to it. He was - for a lack of a better term - quite relieved when she took that weight off his shoulders and did it herself.

"I can't have a long distance relationship with someone sitting right next to me, Colby. I can't stand the way you look at me with that thousand yard stare. Like you're fucking miles away." Every word was spot-on for how their relationship had been transpiring as of recent.

And every word was further confirmed by how Colby could do nothing but blink and nod somewhat absentmindedly while Shea bared her soul.

He knew she deserved better from the start. In that moment he was made cruelly aware that he was so far away from what she deserved, he was practically a punishment.

But did either Colby or Y/N learn their lesson after that?

Of course they fucking didn't.

Because then comes the sequel: Amber and Nate.

It's lightyears away from Y/N's proudest moment everything that happened that summer when Nate moved to LA. And same goes for Colby and his whoring around at parties and afterparties alike. His reckless behavior - all witnessed by Y/N in real time, by the way - was actually the main catalyst that sent this second chapter of idiocy in motion.

That's not to say that Nate didn't have plenty of cards playing in his favor. He's attractive, charming, kind, responsible. He was in many ways the embodiment of all the attributes Colby had lost in Y/N's eyes. He was a walking green flag and she knew just little enough about him to pursue something. Anything to get her mind off the unchained party animal Colby had turned into.

It's not like Colby was unaware of his antics. The worst part that he was never drunk enough to justify his bullshit. His liver could only handle so much so he was always at least half sober. Yet he was still wilding out to the point that Sam felt obligated to keep him in check, turning their dynamic upside down.

Most nights Sam wouldn't have even a sip of alcohol to prevent letting his guard down. He didn't trust his best friend to be able to look out for himself in the slightest. Given that he was sober practically 90% of the time, he was the first to pick up on the building sexual tension between Nate and Y/N.

"They're cute and all, but they should just fuck already." He'd laughed as he accompanied Colby to the bar so he could force him to down a glass of water.

Water he almost choked on and spit out when the words Sam said processed in his brain. Following his gaze, he found a sight that nearly cleaned his stomach of all the alcohol he'd consumed that night. Nate and Y/N were omitting all subtlety as they danced together across the club. There was no room to question their intentions for one another.

It would be rather hypocritical of Colby to clutch his pearls and be a prude over a simple one night stand between his friends. He was actually hoping it'd remain as that - a one-time thing.

He was let down quite rudely when the two announced they were officially dating about a week later.

And, as the pattern goes: enter Amber.

Ok, that's just some dramatic flare, she'd been there all along.

She had been there for Colby the way Brennen was for Y/N during the previous phase. She too found herself at the wrong place at the wrong time and faced the same fate of being a second best.

It would be three long years before both relationships would come to an end. These two a lot less calm in their conclusion.

For Y/N and Nate it was three years well spent, but also down the drain. It was an unfortunate case of two people traveling in opposite directions. Nate could see them together for years to come. But Y/N couldn't do that. Not to him and not to herself. The immense pain and heartbreak this break up brought on cemented some distance between them although they were both adamant they didn't want to lose one another. And so it's remained, they're still close friends with lingering feelings sticking around.

On the other side of the spectrum were Colby and Amber. Their relationship did not end so quietly and calmly. In fact it blew up, going up into the flames of their endless petty fights. In that fire burned up their friendship also. They lost all that connected them. They lost everything. The break up was the far lesser evil than staying together.

You'd think each with a three year relationship under their belt, their feelings for each other would have faded by this point. For a while that's what they wanted to believe.

"It is what it is." Colby said, handing her a beer as he took a seat next to her on the pool ledge.

She accepted it with a small, sad smile, "It is what it is." She agreed, swishing around the clear pool water with her feet as she rested her head on his shoulder.

It always came back to this. Three years ago after phase one, they found themselves there and now history was repeating itself. At the end of each chapter, they'd always find their way to one another, seeking comfort in each other's company. They are best friends, after all, but they also seemed to be running through the same motions at the same time. They lived on two sides of the same coin regarding romance, unaware they were practically prompting on another.

And Sam saw it all. That night too, when he came downstairs for a late night snack and peered out in the backyard. There he saw his two best friends, enjoying a quiet moment of mutual understanding. It got a little too perfectly coincidental for him to even believe it was a coincidence anymore. The patterns were too perfect, too alike. The timelines were adding up too well.

But he said nothing. He knew better than to try. He's never met more stubborn people in his life. He was just left to hope that eventually they'd find their way to each other permanently. Not for comfort or understanding, but for forever and always.

Phase three would soon commence, again following a pattern. Summer. Parties. Drinking. This time Y/N was just as engaged in the insanity of LA parties as Colby. In fact, he was the one slowly pulling out of that lifestyle. He needed to keep a level head to prevent his best friends - yes, Sam was back to his wild ways also - from making bad decisions.

Yet he just stood and watched, almost frozen, as Y/N was making another big mistake to kick-start the third installment of their trilogy.

That mistake being Seth.

This time is different, however. There's nothing romantic going on there. Anyone with two eyes and a brain could see that. It was purely physical. Just sex, just momentary relief. No strings were attaching them other than shallow attraction and occasionally alcohol.

All Sam and Colby could do was watch. They wouldn't want to make the wrong move and come across as babying Y/N. The previous couple months had made her emotionally unpredictable and they didn't want to lose her due to her continuously shortening temper.

But Colby couldn't just stay away and observe her slipping through his fingers. So, he let her go and found himself in the company of Stas. Another mutual friend, much like Seth. And he was wholeheartedly hoping she'd be the one, that it would last. That it wouldn't be another repetition of old ways.

Oh if only...

That's where we are now, half a year later with two loose relationships over which hangs the question 'what are we?'. None of the parties know. Or at least they don't want to.

The comfort Y/N was seeking in the nonchalant rendezvous with Seth has now become bitterness. She wanted someone to have and to hold, not someone that was gone minutes after the deed was done. To be frank, she's not sure if she even wanted him to stick around. There's nothing colder than an insincere embrace. She had her blankets to keep her warm, she didn't need Seth. She's been joking with Kat that at this point she needs a lobotomy.

Kat, much like Sam, has started taking not of the patterns. Of the perfect coincidences. Of the reason none of their relationships worked out in the end, no matter how wonderful they appeared all throughout. Shea and Colby were adorable, no one saw or could pin point where it all went wrong. There was a bit more understanding to Brennen and Y/N's situation. Their friendship was just stronger than their romance and that's what they picked. Amber and Colby were great, until they weren't,. Until the petty bickering and fights started. Until tensions got high and they could no longer even look each other in the eye. Nate and Y/N were the couple everyone was certain would eventually put a ring on it. It was quite the shock to find out they'd decided to break up. Once again, no one could pinpoint why.

Now, it's Seth and Stas' turn. Only time will tell if the pattern will take hold again.

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby starts the intro to the video they're filming as per usual.

"Today, we'll be diving into the dark history of Savannah Penitentiary. This monstrosity of a building behind us." Sam picks up on his usual cue, turning to point at the indeed both ginormous and hideous building behind the group.

"It's gonna be a long night." Josh says through a nervous laugh, unaware just how right his prediction would prove to be later on.

So, in they go. It would be rude to keep the spirits waiting.

* * * * * *

Well the spirits sure as hell didn't keep them waiting. Even during the tour, they were very adamant on letting the group know they were present and waiting for the opportunity to talk. Bangs, knocks, taps, footsteps - each sound sending the five huddling just a bit closer together.

Sam and Colby always made it a priority to keep their guests feeling safe and comfortable on these investigations. That was - and still is - the case when they first managed to convince Y/N to tag along with them. Now she's no longer a guest but a staple of their videos, having become a fan-favorite within her first investigation. Still, her comfort and safety was of upmost importance to them. She's grown thicker skin to the paranormal over time but they're all only human and there are very few things more human than fear.

That, however, doesn't mean she's absolved of the trademark Sam and Colby solo investigations. This time she just happened to be the unlucky last on nose-goes which sent her path into the woods next to the penitentiary with nothing but a camera and an EMF meter.

"Fuck you all! I'll fucking haunt you when whatever's out there kills me." Y/N flipped Sam and Colby - and by extension Seth and Josh - the finger before making her venture out into the eerie and all too noisy night, turning on night-vision on her camera.

That's where she is now, minding each and every step with the very little visibility her camera is providing her. "This fucking sucks." She mumbles to herself, taking a drag from the cigarette she lit to calm her nerves. She's never one to publicly chicken out but she is most definitely panicking internally. So much so that a clap of thunder makes her jump and almost drop the EMF.

"Is no one here or do you just not wanna talk to me?" Y/N says, her voice louder now. She secures the cigarette between her lips to properly show the device to the camera. Nothing. Literal crickets. "Is it cause I'm a woman? Shawn told us you're not very fond of women." She attempts again, referencing what their tour guide had said earlier.

And it proves successful when the light flicks up to yellow.

"I see." She rolls her eyes as she stomps out her cig, "Well could you please refrain from being mean because I'm not just gonna stand here in this oncoming storm for you to give me nothing in return. The people want to hear what you have to say. This is your chance. Can you make this device in my hand light up if you're willing to talk to me?"

For a split second, it does light up. Almost as though the spirits are begrudgingly agreeing to converse with a woman.

"Ok great." She smiles in success, "I'll ask you yes/no questions. Light my device up for yes, ok? Or maybe give me a more obvious sign?" The EMF lights up to orange this time, scaring her briefly but it's showing progress. "Alright." Right on time as well because the first rain drops have just hit her skin. No rain will get her to move now, though. She has spirits to talk to.

Back inside the even colder halls of the penitentiary, more specifically in the basement cell unit, is Colby. He's pacing around with a frustratingly inactive Ovilus.

He's flipped the entire basement to find at least a pocket of activity and has been slapped in the face with paranormal rejection each and every time. With the quiet spell having taken over, the moment the Ovilus came to life was quite the mini heart attack.

"Woman?" Colby reads the word on the screen after recovering, his brows furrowed as he tries connecting the word to anything they've learned throughout the night. And then it clicks, or at least he thinks it does. "Are you talking about nurse Helen? Was she the one who killed you?"

Earlier during the tour, the guide showed them the medical wing where a particularly malicious spirit resided. Nurse Helen. She was a mean older woman who exuded her own justice on the inmates by method of 'medical mistake' or 'accident' which 99% of the time resulted in the death of the inmates she was supposed to tend to.

Another quiet spell before the Ovilus sounded one more word: 'Woods'.

"Huh..." Colby's initial idea is now null and void. He tries drawing a connection between the words. The conclusion comes a lot quicker this time around, coupled with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder just as a downpour starts.

The woman in the woods.

Y/N.

Seconds later he's running up the stairs to the ground floor, breaking the rule of the solo investigation with five minutes left on the clock. He runs out in the pouring rain, using his phone flashlight for guidance because he'd left his camera in the lobby. He has no indication of where she could be exactly. The woods take up a huge portion of the property and they're paced with closely planted trees that hinder his visibility futher.

After a solid minute of no sign from her, he decides to just call out to her.

It's safe to say all color drains from Y/N's body when she hears her name echo around her through the sound of the downpour. Sounds of leaves crunching follow which serve only to further terrify her. It isn't until the second time the voice rings out calling to her that she recognizes the voice as Colby's and calls back, hoping to God it's actually him.

"Yeah?! What is it?!" She inadvertently turns off the camera and brings it down to her side, her arm sore from holding it up. She fumbles to find her phone in her pocket and shine its flashlight in the direction his voice is coming from. Just in time to illuminate Colby, soaked to the bone, much like herself.

"Oh thank God you're ok." He sighs, panting to catch his breath, resting his hands on his hips to stabilize himself and let the assurance of her well-being sink in.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asks, pushing her damp hair to the side, pulling up the hood of her hoodie over her head, taking a couple steps toward him. She lifts his bowed head with a finger under his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Hey, hey...I'm ok. Relax. Everything's ok. What happened?"

In that moment, it's clear as day even in the pitch black rainy night, that these two will never find a bridge that will help them get over one another. There's no getting over what they want to be, what they could be. They may run through phases all their life and continuously miss each other.

But something will always bring them back to this. These pure, raw, intimate moments between them. Moments perfectly constructed for them to finally spit out what's been plaguing them for literal years. But they may never actually...

"I thought you were in danger. I thought...." He inhales sharply, calming himself and forcing the stuck words out, "I didn't want anything to happen to you."

Y/N gives him a smile unsure of if it's meant to reassure him or if it's just a display of how his words are making her feel. "Nothing happened, Colbs. I'm ok. I was having a nice conversation with whoever is here. Nothing's wrong. I wasn't in danger. But thank you. The fact that you came here to check on me means a lot." She lowers her hands to take hold of his ice cold ones, instinctively bringing them up to her lips to blow some warm air onto them. "You're fucking freezing, you dumbass." She laughed, pulling down the hoodie sleeves she had rolled up to cover his hands too.

His skin might be cold as ice but his heart just swelled three times its size, a small fire having been lit inside it. And it's spreading throughout his whole chest, his whole body. He can't contain it. Not the fire and not the urge to kiss her.

So he does.

And pulls back just as quickly, fearful that he'd just ruined a decade of friendship. He came out to these woods out of fear he might lose her to an uncertain danger but he may have just lost her because of his own inability to suppress his feelings any longer.

He's just about to apologize when she pulls him down by the collar of his hoodie, their lips clashing once more.

Remember what I said about their shitty situation being a classic rom-com plot? This is the perfect ending to that movie, is it not? We've seen it many times on big and small screens alike. It may be an ending to the movie but it's just the beginning of something new.

The end of the phases, the undoing of the patterns.

The start of that forever and always they were seeking with other people because they thought they could never get it with each other.

And no one's happier to see it than Sam. He witnesses it via a perfect parallel two nights later - going down to grab a late night snack and peering out in the backyard to see his best friends sitting on the pool ledge, beers all but forgotten by their sides as they are lost in each other. Their eyes, touch, scent, kisses. All they'd been starving each other of for so many years.

Seeing this, Sam knows what he has to do.

"Get a room already!" He shouts, chucking a kitchen towel at the couple, startling them into almost toppling over into the pool.

There it is - the perfect circle. It always comes back to this very pool with them two.

This time however, it's actually perfect. Because they are finally each other's. Officially, that is. He's been hers and she's been his for longer than anyone could've imagined. But none of that matters now.

Their lives are finally perfectly complete.

#sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fluff #colby brock fic #colby brock smut #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x reader #fanfic #imagine

104 notes · View notes

hittos · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐒. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k words 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: light degradation, dub con, blackmail, Gojo is a Pervert, taking inappropriate pictures without consent 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Upon finding out Gojo has been taking upskirt pictures of you, you are forced to make a deal to get him to get rid of them

If you knew that The Satoru Gojo was obsessed with you, you wouldn't have come to school with no panties today.

It was common knowledge that you were a bit of an airhead, never really paying attention to your surroundings and it’s gotten you into quite a bit of trouble through the years from almost being ran over countless times to getting attacked by curses that should not have been able to even get close to you and not noticing the many, many, many times Gojo was taking upskirt pictures of you.

You could’ve actually gone your whole life never knowing how often he does this to you had he not straight up confessed. In a way.

You sighed in frustration as you turned the corner of the somewhat obscured spot in the gardens, Gojo asked you to meet him in, “you know we can’t miss class without a good excuse, you’ll get us both kicked out” you angrily cross your arms over your chest, highlighting your cute tits.

“I know, but I need to show you something and it couldn’t wait” he smirked knowingly at your confused face, his eyes ogling your figure behind the safety of his pitch black glasses, “what is it?” you warily inched closer to him as he pulled out his flip phone.

“Look at this” It took you a minute to realize what you were even looking at and as soon as you had the short lived rush of epiphany, the horror quickly coursed through every last crevice of your body, numbing it within seconds. The words died in your mouth as his slender finger brought on an onslaught of pictures of your butt clad in different colored panties in each one. Some were standard cotton panties, others were promiscuous thongs that got swallowed by your pussy lips and butt. He even had a few of your chest with the outline of your nipples visible through your shirt. One after the next like he’s been collecting them under your nose for years (and he has) before finally the phone displayed the very last picture he took. The very worst one of all.

You stared in shock as you saw a picture of your completely bare pussy in the phone of your classmate, not sure what to do or if there even is anything to do, he is the Satoru Gojo after all. You had a million questions running through your head, but the will to ask none. Why would he do this? And more importantly, why would he show you this?

“You’re quite the bold one today, aren’t you?” he smirked, ignoring the look of disbelief and defeat etched on your features, “so are we gonna do this or what?” you shot him a confused glances with your teary eyes, “Oh, don’t play dumb now, you want me to fuck you. That’s why you came here without panties on, right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you yelled at him, the culmination of all the repressed words stuck in your throat, “you think I had any idea about this?”

He chuckled darkly, frustration beginning to set in, “I know you’re not the brightest, sugar, but there’s no way you’re dumb enough not to have noticed all these years”

“I didn’t, though, I really didn’t notice” you finally released a much needed sob. A silence, save for your sniffles, filled the space as both of you tried to process the new information, “It was a stupid move not to wear panties, you could’ve flashed someone, I mean you know we fight at odd hours” he chided halfhartedly.

“I am not going to flash anyone, Gojo, I’m smarter than this” he snorted sarcastically, “Oh because you’re so known for being smart”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This ditzy, young schoolgirl act isn’t cute, y/n and it’s not fooling anyone” he started, “If you’re so smart then how come you haven’t noticed your shirt is sheer? How come you didn’t notice all the pictures I took of your underwear? How didn’t you figure out that everyone is nice to you because you practically flash them everyday?” he chuckled again at your aghast face, “you haven’t noticed how every student and teacher wants nothing more than to bend you over the nearest desk and fuck you till you’re sore?”

“You’re disgusting, everyone in this school is fucking disgusting” you stomped your foot, ready to storm away, “ and I want you to delete these pictures from your phone” he shrugs casually, “I’ll do it if i’m properly compensated”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” he tilted his head, “Everyone in the school wants to fuck you, I can make a fortune from selling these pictures” he grinned like a sleaze, “not that i need it, but i think it would nurture my entrepreneurial spirit”

“Satoru, you cannot show these to anyone” you demanded through gritted teeth

“Oh relax, nothing they haven’t seen before” he teased, much to your embarrassment, “but as I said i’ll get rid of them if you properly compensate me”

“Fine” you yelled in frustration, “you win, how much do you want”

He grinned manically, “we both know you can’t afford what these pictures are truly worth, but you know, if you let me have the real thing, it will devalue the pictures” he brushed his hand through your hair mesmerizingly, “so what do you say?”

It’s not like you really had a choice here. If you didn’t do this, your name would be tarnished forever and you’d probably have to drop out from Jujutsu Tech entirely and probably leave the country and live in shame for the rest of your life. You nodded hesitantly, which was all the confirmation he needed before he laid you down on the grass and flipped up your skirt, revealing your coveted cunt.

Gojo smirked to himself as soon as he saw your pussy glistening with arousal, “Aww you like being used for your body?” he asked as he rubbed tight circles around your cute clit. Your face suddenly got unbearably hot at his comment causing you to mumble a shut up, which reached his ear, “whatever the lady wants” he grinned before fumbling to remove his uniform pants.

“There’s no way this is going to fit inside me” your eyes widened as he unsheathed his dripping cock from the mess of fabrics, “there’s only one way to find out” he dismissed your concerns, not wasting any time before lining up his angry red tip with your wet hole, “promise I’ll be gentle,” he consoled before finally pushing in.

You screamed at the slow invasion, his massive cock brutally stretching out your tiny pussy. He was only halfway in but you already felt ready to explode from how intensely he’s stuffing you, “deep, d-deep. Please, It’s too deep” but Gojo only smiled sadistically, every mewl and scream out of you only stroked his ego further, “you can take it, bitch” he emphasized his insult with a few more inches inside your stuffed hole, “by the time I’m done with you, your pretty pussy will have been molded around my dick perfectly.

By the time Gojo finally bottomed out inside you, your body was already spent from the intense stretch, but there was no time to let you relax or adjust since class would end in less than 15 minutes and it would defeat the whole point entirely if someone saw you two fucking in the gardens.

His hips strutted back and then came crashing down in quick succession, your sobs only made him want to go faster, he never would have guessed hearing you cry would be so hot to him, but crying just makes your pussy feel warmer and every time you hiccup your abused hole tightens around him. Anyone would rather have you crying around their cock, if he’s going to be honest.

Your poor pussy aches from being pounded by a cock a size too big to fit inside, but all you could do was lie back on the grass, keep your legs open and bide your time till you’ve paid your dues. Though, you would be lying if you said that it didn’t also feel good. The way his precum slicks against your gummy walls as his hot tip bullys the confines of your cervix, subconsciously looking for the optimal place to blow his load inside you to maximize his chances of getting you pregnant.

It only occurred to you to warn him that your womb is unprotected when his badgering cock had already fucked your ability to talk out of your feeble body. You hated how cocky he looked as he abused your pussy, you wondered how long he had dreamed of getting you like this or how many times he fucked his cock in his fist while looking at the obscene pictures he took of you.

There was no build up to your orgasm, it snuck up on you all too suddenly, leaving you howling and shaking at the intense wave of euphoria hurtling through your body. His didn’t come too far after yours. The pressure from your spasming hole finally made him spray your insides with his sperm, the fatigue setting in for the both of you.

Gojo pulled out after both of you relaxed from your highs, his cum rushing quickly after him.

“Delete the pictures now” you demanded as you readjusted your clothes and brushed off the grass clinging onto the back of your sweaty thigh, “I’ll delete some of them now” he fished for his phone from his back pocket, “what do you mean some of them? Delete them all. That was the agreement”

“No,” he interrupted, “I said letting me fuck you will devalue them not make them worthless” one glance at the look on your face and Gojo knew to turn on Infinity before you actually lunge at him, “so how long before you delete all the pictures”

“I don’t know” he shrugged, “until there’s no more pictures to delete or until I get bored of fucking this sweet pussy of yours, though I doubt that will ever happen” he pocketed his phone again before turning to leave, “You should hurry though, graduation is right around the corner”

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

1K notes · View notes