Claire Keane
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@salsakiyoomi
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crimsonchxins → salsakiyoomi
# farida # 7teen, she/her # mlist # guidelines # tags
— recent works ! :
- favoring you, ft. ryomen sukuna
- typical, ft. toji fushiguro
‐ come back, ft nanami kento
— ongoing series :
- brooklyn baby, ft. ryomen sukuna
- once upon a dream, ft. ryomen sukuna and satoru gojo
requests : open!
commissions : open!
© — salsakiyoomi.tumblr all rights reserved, do not repost, plagiarize or recreate in anyway
“what is it with you?”
your gaze drifts from your book to sukuna, finding him standing by the foot of your bed with his arms crossed, a displeased look on his face as if you had just personally insulted him.
“uh, good evening to you too.” you say, confused when he glares at you.
you raise an eyebrow, a silent inquiry for him to speak whatever is on his mind, and when he doesn't say anything, you shrug and go back to your book.
sukuna groans loudly and you stifle a laugh at his childish behavior, a slight smile at your lips. the mattress shifts with his weight as he sits beside you.
“you didn’t babble any of your nonsense to me today.” he says, frowning at you, “why the silence?”
your smile fades and your gaze drifts to the floor, and you shrug, “no reason.”
sukuna squints his eyes at you. as if sizing up an opponent. he knows you're lying, he has always been able to tell when you were, how you'd always looked like you were a man guilty of murder.
your gaze catches his for a moment before you're looking at the floor once more. sukuna waits for a moment, then two, then three. as if hoping you'd speak up. but you don't.
he scoffs, “bullshit.” he says, snatching the book from your hands. you squeal a ‘hey!’ in protest as you try to reach for it but sukuna is relentless as he keeps it out of touch.
“here's what's going to happen.” he says firmly, his eyes looking at you with such intensity that you nearly crumble under his gaze. he continues, “you’re going to tell me what got you sulking and moping, and then, i’ll give you your book.”
you scoff and roll your eyes, “i already told you, nothing's the matter.”
“bullshit.”
you cross your arms and lean back in bed, “i don't understand why it's so bothersome. can't a girl just be quiet in peace?”
sukuna shakes his head, “not you.” he says simply, “you're never quiet.”
you cringe. that kind of hurt, actually. sure, you know you were loud, talkative and clingy but you didn't expect him to be so blunt about it.
sukuna frowns at you, “what the hell is with that face?”
you scowl at him, “what face?”
“that face.” he says, pointing at you, “you're pouting and frowning.”
“whatever.” you scoff, laying down and turning your back to him to him as you pull the covers over yourself, “i'm going to sleep.”
sukuna frowns. what the hell is wrong with you? sure, he was used to you sulking sometimes but it never meant you being quiet. especially so oddly quiet.
sukuna huffs. he's had it up till here with you. so, fine, if you wanted play stubborn then so will he.
sukuna grabs the sheets covering you and with one swift motion, peels them off of you. you're about to yell his name and complain but before you could get to, sukuna is already scooping you up in his arms and slinging you over his shoulder like a potato sack.
you yelp and squeal, “ryomen!” you slap his back, “put me down!”
“nah.” he says casually, walking around with you slung on his shoulder as if it's the most normal thing ever, “i think i like this, actually.” he pats your ass teasingly and you groan, slapping his back harshly.
“ryomen, i'm serious.” you say, your tone is not light-hearted or funny. just sad. “put me down, i don't wanna do this right now.”
sukuna frowns, realizing that you are serious, and there is something that is seriously bothering you and for some god forsaken reason, you don't want to tell him.
well, too bad for you. you are going to tell him whether you like it or not. because sukuna is relentless like that, and he hates it when his girlfriend is upset.
sukuna drops you on the bed and you land with a soft thud on the mattress. before you get to do or say anything, sukuna is already on top of you, hands holding him up on either side of your head.
“what is it?” he asks, his tone deadly serious it makes you shrink under him, “what happened?”
you bite your lip and look away. sukuna is relentless, you knew that. and you knew he wasn't going to let you go until you told him whatever is bothering you.
“do you think i'm overbearing?” the question slips past your lips without a second thought. quiet and timid and almost embarrassed.
the silence that falls is heavy and tense — at least from where you were. did he really think you were overbearing? is that why he was suddenly so silent? did he hate you know? did he always think so?
your eyes slowly drift back to his face, only to find it in a concerned frown with his bottom lip slightly jutted out, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“what the fuck?” he says in disbelief and you groan, pushing him off, “just forget about it.” you mumble, sitting up on the bed.
“no, no. actually, what the fuck?” he says again, looking at you, “who the fuck made you think that?”
you frown and fiddle with your fingers, looking down at them. “it's just a thought.” you say, shrugging.
sukuna scoots closer to you, “you've never mentioned it until now.” he says, his hand cups your cheek and turns your face to look at him and your eyes meet his intense red ones, and you almost melt under his gaze.
you sigh, “it's just — i know i'm clingy, y'know? and i know it can come off as overbearing sometimes and —”
“shut up.” he says, cutting you off intensely. your eyes widen slightly and your mouth hangs open as you look at him, dumbfounded.
“this is just bull.” he says simply.
you're confused and dumbfounded, “...what?”
“being clingy or whatever you wanna call it doesn’t make you overbearing.” he says, frowning at you, “it just makes you…lovable.”
“...lovable?”
“don't make me repeat myself, woman.” he huffs, “you heard me the first time.”
a small smile makes its way to your face — the ryomen sukuna found you lovable for the exact reason others hated you for.
“so you don't find me overbearing?” you asks softly and sukuna huffs again, “no.”
you laugh softly, “oh, ryo.” you hum, “you've gone soft.”
sukuna rolls his eyes, “whatever.” he says, “now you're going to tell me who put that stupid thought in your head.”
you shake your head, “no. you'll just commit arson against them.”
“it would be well deserved.”
you laugh again, the thought now long forgotten as sukuna pushes you down on the bed and kisses you deeply and hungrily, before he pulls away, a slight smirk at his face,
“i'm going to show you what actual overbearing is like.”
i'm not built for the casual game i fear
@salsakiyoomi for you bae
SAVANAH IM GONNA MAKE OUT WITH YOU SO HARD
i watched that episode of friends and it gave me inspo so now i'm writing this based off of it 😋 i'm like ALMOST halfway with it, so it might be out tonight or tmr.
if anybody wants to be tagged in it once it's done lmk 🫶🏻
if we ever meet up i’ll literally beg on my knees for forgiveness please
that's lowkey gay girl....
I CAN NEVER BE BETTER THAN DEAN WINCHESTER, HE IS BETTER IN ALL FORMS
hmm....i MIGHT consider it....
i love youuuuuu SO MUCH LET ME BACK
yandere type behaviour omg STAWPPP
i'm honestly scared y'all....
FIX THIS NOW
NO
i really need to watch friends for the 173839933728th time just because it's my comfort show and for me to write some drabblrs inspired by it
ENOUGH WITH THE SMUT !!! I WANT HEART WRENCHING ANGST !!!!
im not upset im not upset im not upset im not upset im not upset im not upset im not upset im not ups—
i don't watch arcane but i would seriously do anything for vi
when life gives you lemons, squeeze them into the eyes of men and the people who have wronged you
ONCE UPON A DREAM
zeus! satoru gojo x fem! goddess! reader x hades! ryomen sukuna.
synopsis : gojo satoru is a dream. the king of gods, the all-powerful, and your loving, prophesied husband. but power comes with corruption, and retribution doesn’t come easy to the divine.
content warnings : mythology! au. highly suggestive themes. infidelity. cheating. immorality. manipulation and gaslighting. gojo being an asshole. kidnapping. forceful marriage at one point. angst. hurt/comfort. fluff.
taglist : @sukunahs @poopooindamouf @frickpickle @haithamsbb @melllting (open! send an ask to me to be added!)
status : ongoing
author's note : this is a series collaboration and written by @salsakiyoomi and @cupidstrace
ACT I : THE PROPHECY
ACT II :
ACT III :
ACT IV :
ACT V :
ACT VI :
ACT VII :
ACT VIII :
ACT IX :
ACT X :
more to be added soon!
© — salsakiyoomi.tumblr and © — cupidstrace.tumblr all rights reserved, do not repost, plagiarize or recreate in anyway
dividers credits : @/dollywons
ONCE UPON A DREAM | ACT I : THE PROPHECY.
pairing : zeus! satoru gojo! x fem! goddess! reader x hades! ryomen sukuna
synopsis : gojo satoru is a dream. the king of gods, the all-powerful, and your loving, prophesied husband. but power comes with corruption, and retribution doesn’t come easy to the divine.
chapter warnings : none
word count : 1.2k
author's note : we're very excited for this y'all
collab w/ @cupidstrace
Somewhere in the sea, on an island humanity hasn’t yet sullied with firebrushed fingertips, smoke curls from a cave, painting the sky a malachite, ominous, jade. For the first time in a million millenia, a voice seeps from the cracks, pulsing with waves that lap at the shore and pull back to carry the message faraway. Skyward.
When truth prevails in shattered night
her light shall cradle power's flame
An eternity vowed to love's great might
a fate now bound to whispered name
When pomegranate stains the skin of worth
and tears fall soft on darkened earth
With a walk to the tamest place
The fall of grace marks love’s rebirth
—
The Titans’ domain is a peculiar place.
You can’t really make sense of it, not with your divinity or wisdom. It's something beyond your comprehension as they stand there, towering over you, faces fading away into the heavens, oaken branches on a misty afternoon.
The entire hall is made of slate, shades of lilac pulsing deep beneath the stone like violet veins. Thrones sit from the floor, up the vine-covered pillars, to the expanse of the heavens, above and below and all around where you sit. Across from you sits the God of Power, his foot resting on his thigh as he slumps forward, seemingly uninterested in the entire ordeal. To your side sits an empty throne, the gilded plaque at its head reading Retribution.
In your entire, eternal, existence, you’ve never once visited this realm. Nothing has required you to be in the Titans’ presence, nor have they called for yours. Until the prophecy.
A vague and indefinite revelation, open to many interpretations. The first event of a millenia that has the council frantically organizing an assembly to discuss how to go about carrying it out.
A gentle rumble has you fiddling with your fingers as the Titans speak, voices indistinct. The timbres mold into a cacophony of a singular thought, echoing through each of your minds, leaving a slight ring in your ears.
We have called you here to discuss the prophecy.
You still, and so do the others, their gazes falling on your form. And you think you know why. For a moment, you dare to assume that the prophecy could be, is, about you.
You don't get to dwell on that thought for too long, though. You don't get to dwell on the possibility of it, or the doubt, because another rumble shakes you, another ringing in your ears as they speak.
The Goddess of Truth is to be wedded to the God of Power. The prophecy has deemed it.
You stiffen, and your eyes drift over to the white-haired god. His bright blue eyes are already fixed on you. Intense and thoughtful and a little amused, if you’re reading him right, as if he’s pondering what this could mean.
You aren't able to hold his gaze for long, too intense to your liking. It almost has you melting underneath it. So you look away, down to your thumbs as they fiddle with one other. You don’t have much of a say in this, anyway. Because, after all, if the oracle has spoken it, then it is to be.
You dare not say anything. Not about how ominous the prophecy is or about how you're unsure if Satoru is the one. Or about how it left you feeling unsettled. The fall of grace. That part is too daunting to your liking.
“How do we know it's about them?” one of the minor gods asks, and you pause.
The same question that is on your mind. The one you dare not speak.
Your eyes flit to the titans’ murky forms, letting the tension settle into silence. Another rumble comes, accompanied again by the resonant buzz in your ears.
Truth is to cradle power's flame.
That’s all they say, as if that is enough of an explanation. As if a single line can determine, with absolute certainty, how you will live out the rest of your waking days into a forever. Married.
You’ve never cared much for titles. Gojo Satoru could be the least powerful of the gods, and it wouldn’t change how you view him in the least.
Now, you don’t talk to him much. But from what you can glean, he’s got a playful fondness to him. Like he’s not a god at all, but rather a satyr dancing and eating grapes from the vine when the sun sits high in the morning light.
It’s never mattered much to you. He’s in the peripheral of your eternity, and you’re certain you’re the same way in his.
But now you’re to be wed.
Admittedly, you’re a little confused, a little hopeful, and really, really terrified. You’d think as the Goddess of Truth you’d have more insight as to what to do in this scenario. Or at least be able to know if the interpretation of the prophecy is correct.
But you can’t. Truth and fate tow the same line, and while you’re able to seek out an honest gaze and bless those who pray to you with remarkable (in human terms, at the very least) intuition, there are certain boundaries you just can’t cross. Meddling with destiny is one of them.
So you twiddle your thumbs and offer a little smile back to the ivory-haired god sitting in the throne across from yours. His expression – all alabaster teeth and aquamarine eyes – seems to turn even more pleased at your gesture, if possible.
You’ve heard the whispers. Manchild.
But right now? He seems kind of sweet. Like a baby that’s been given a teddy bear and won’t let its hug loose. Like a man that’s known nothing but megalomania and finally has something, someone, to keep for himself.
So when the council is adjourned and he steps off his throne and offers you an arm, you take it with a quiet giggle.
He grins, all charming and boyish, and places his hand over yours. “Shall we make our departure, wife?”
“We’re not married just yet,” you muse, eyes crinkling.
He gasps, hand flying to his chest as you descend the slate stairs. “Ah, how you wound me, goddess. We might as well be.”
“You may call me by my name.”
He pauses, and his smile falters. If only for a split second. For beings like you, a million times that timespan is nothing at all, and yet the moment seems to linger in the catch of your breath, in the twitch of his fingertips resting over yours.
A name. Your name.
In a world where names mean power, where uttering a god’s name can have their eyes snapping to your form from the area behind the beyond, you’re telling him he may use your name as he sees fit.
He turns away, and his Adams' apple bobs a little in what you can only assume is a gulp. “Then.. you may call me Satoru.”
You raise a brow.
How oddly.. endearing, of the God of Power, to fluster so easily.
You consider telling him this, before deciding he might melt under the pressure if you apply too much too suddenly. So you simply smile and rest your head on his shoulder. “I suppose I will… Satoru.”
taglist : @sukunahs @poopooindamouf @frickpickle @haithamsbb (open! send an ask to me to be added!)
© — salsakiyoomi.tumblr and © — cupidstrace.tumblr all rights reserved, do not repost, plagiarize or recreate in anyway
dividers credits : @/dollywons
