#I would eat the whole bag of them if given the opportunity

[hollowsart]

nothing like having a plain fresh hot flour tortilla made from scratch

 there is something so.. therapeutic(? for lack of a better word?) about it.

[blkkizzat]

❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.

» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this! 

Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!  

Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.

Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now. 

You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.

So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them. 

You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.

But fuck! 

You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead. 

Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.

Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!

Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!

Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake. 

The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.   

That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets. 

Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna. 

You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that. 

Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna. 

Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?

Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!

They should be the one to go!  

But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.

So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side. 

“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”

Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.

Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?

He sounded normal enough. 

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all. 

Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?

Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers. 

You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.

Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.

Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.

You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you. 

However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips. 

Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves. 

You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock. 

You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick. 

Interesting.  

Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.

Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.

Where would be the fun in that?

And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.

Only one solitary piece remained.

Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.

A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you. 

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort. 

You swallow, unsure how to start.

Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation. 

Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.

Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy. 

When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin. 

“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”

Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?

Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.

“Just allergies, m’lord.”

You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.

The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.

However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.

Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.  

Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.

Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not. 

And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.

No, something is on your mind. 

Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him. 

Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.

What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?

Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.

His evil grin widens.

“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”

Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him! 

Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting. 

You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want. 

Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.

Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.

Sigh.

However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it. 

You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him. 

You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”

Oh? 

You still wanted to play games?

Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons. 

Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp. 

All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you. 

Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him. 

You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.

In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on. 

You had to have been a succubus in a past life. 

His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious. 

Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick. 

Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far. 

At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo. 

Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.

You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.

From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.

100…99…98…

“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”

97…9—

Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either. 

Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.

“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?” 

From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be. 

This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.

Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away. 

“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”

Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.

However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!? 

No, that's not right he must have missed.

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him. 

Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils. 

You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up. 

And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him. 

His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.

“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”

Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in. 

Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match. 

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!? 

Oh shit this was too good. 

You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.

Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further. 

“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”

In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.

The weed is clearly having an effect on him. 

“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically. 

“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!” 

When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.

A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall. 

It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper. 

The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.

“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”

“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”

You were seething. 

How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?

“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”

Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them. 

He was huge—of course he had a big back…? 

Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.

Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host. 

“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”

“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”

Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.

Of course they had hemp. 

Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools. 

“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”

Your eyes narrowed. 

Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich. 

“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”  

Sukuna growls once more. 

True, poisons had no effect on him. 

If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut? 

Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.

Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.

Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?

Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic. 

You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares. 

Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.

It was… cute?

Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though. 

You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck. 

Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least. 

“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”

Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him. 

Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.

“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”

Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone.  The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.

Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours. 

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing. 

Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?

Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.

But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least. 

Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned. 

Urgh, what a big diva! 

You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.

“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”

You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.

“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression. 

You had to be an idiot.

If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.

“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”

Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits. 

His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.

“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”

Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you. 

His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his. 

“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”

You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.

“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”

“Hey!”

“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”

Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!

At least enough for you both to escape! 

You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.

Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that. 

You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.

Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger. 

“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”

Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms. 

“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”

His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.

Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.

“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay?  Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.

Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun. 

Fun for Sukuna was killing. 

Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws. 

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.

Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.

“This isn’t fun.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.

“It will be!”

For me at least. 

You don’t say that last part out loud though.

You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.

Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”

“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”

“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”

“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.” 

Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.

Checkmate.

This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned. 

Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.

Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner! 

Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects. 

Yet you had no idea just how much. 

Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.

Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.

Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.

He’s not entirely sure. 

With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.

The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.

Has to be.

It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence. 

“Don’t float away on me…”

Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.

Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.

How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky? 

Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.

Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell. 

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.

Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.

Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples. 

“Watch it, brat.”

But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.

You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high. 

Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.

When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features. 

You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?  

Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness. 

You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.

This whole situation was infuriating for him. 

And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him. 

Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him. 

His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.

Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.

“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”

Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.

“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”

You roll your eyes. 

Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show. 

All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was. 

Of course he’d enjoyed it. 

However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.

However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping. 

Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.

This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.

But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.

You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length. 

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft. 

His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”

You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter. 

For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber. 

Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling. 

The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.

“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”

In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.

Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.

Sukuna grits his teeth. 

He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.

That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly. 

Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.

“FUUHHHHCK!”

One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them, 

Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too! 

You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.

Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.

Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded. 

Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.

Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you. 

Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.

Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.

Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control! 

You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.

Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s. 

Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.

If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.

She wanted more, to cum even harder. 

She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.

Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you. 

Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely. 

Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further. 

The both of you being high made the situation that much worse. 

Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure. 

With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.

Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before! 

Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.

You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.

“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”

You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him. 

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking? 

Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over. 

Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.

Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.

“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.

But it would still be on your terms.

Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom. 

However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing. 

“BRAT—”

“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”

You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them. 

It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.

Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.

You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.

This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks. 

You would struggle enough with just one of them. 

His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.

“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine. 

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna. 

His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.

Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon. 

Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit. 

Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.

Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves. 

Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.

Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”

Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly. 

You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well. 

Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.

You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you. 

You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.

Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want. 

Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures. 

But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit.  Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure. 

Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him. 

Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base. 

While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor. 

Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him. 

And that is exactly what breaks him. 

Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.

Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention. 

You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.

Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye. 

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.

You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum! 

Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.

Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.

“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”

His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.

“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”

For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.

Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.

Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—

“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”

You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.

“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”

Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin. 

“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”

Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you. 

He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind. 

Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.  

Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.

With no warning....asshole.

Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock. 

You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.

“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”

The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.

“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.” 

Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up. 

You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you. 

Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.

Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.

Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.

You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again. 

Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!

Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.

“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”

“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”

You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center. 

“Eat it.”

Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.

Who the fuck did you think you were?

To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”

“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”

Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out. 

“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong. 

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid. 

He always pulled out. 

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.

He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.

Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.

“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”

You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.

And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh. 

Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.

To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.

Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.

You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.

You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers.  The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.

Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.

Shiiiiiit!

Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it. 

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you. 

Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.

Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you. 

Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.

Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.

Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing. 

Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.

Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.

“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”

“Perish.”

Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.

Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.

Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies. 

Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more. 

His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.

Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.

He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!

Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure. 

Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.

You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated. 

He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.

“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”

Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.

“Got me there, Daddy.”

Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple. 

Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.

“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”

“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”

Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile. 

Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.

But he’d fight you over that later.

“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”

You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.

“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”

Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.

Sukuna said it in his head. 

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up. 

Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.

Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.

“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”

“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”

You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved. 

Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears! 

The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!

“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips. 

But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you. 

Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.

You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.

All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.

Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries. 

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.

“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”

You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously? 

You’re fucking insufferable. 

But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now.  His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately. 

“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”

Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier. 

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.

“SLEEP!”

Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.

The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.

Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move. 

Huh?

Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.

Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.

“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”

Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed. 

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body. 

Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves. 

You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.

Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.

“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”

Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.

The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.

Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open. 

Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.

“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

[xxchumanixx]

i’m begging for some john nolan fluff.

Night in

John Nolan x reader

Warnings/Tags: Just pure fluff

Word count: 619

Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! You want some John Nolan fluff, you'll get it!

Enjoy!

It was finally your day off, and you couldn't wait to get some rest.

You and John hadn't seen much of each other in the last few days, the timing never being right.

Now, that you had time for yourselves, you were on your way to him.

Your car smelled like a whole restaurant, given the amounts of food you had bought.

You just couldn't decide on one thing to eat, so you had taken everything you liked.

Which was a lot.

But you knew John and you knew, that he would eat everything that was left over.

Parking in front of his house you got out, gathering the bags - a few on each arm - before you slowly walked towards the house.

Ringing the doorbell with your elbow, the bags slowly started to slide down. When the door opened you pushed John out of the way, stumbling inside.

You really shouldn't have bought that much food.

Putting the bags down on the table with the last bit of strength, he huffed, shaking his head at you. "Wow, who would have thought that you could order that much at this place?"

Chuckling, you turned around to him, arms finding their way around his neck, tugging him closer. "I didn't know what to get, so I bought everything." "Wow..." he mumbled, before his lips met yours.

Kissing him back, you sighed, leaning more into him.

"What do you say, we have a movie marathon, eat all of that takeout, die because our stomachs exploded from all the food, before we have a bath?" he suggested after your lips parted, smiling down at you.

Chuckling at his exesparation, you nodded. "That sounds lovely." you gave back. "I know, it's my idea and I'm lovely." he quipped, a smirk playing at his lips.

Huffing, you pushed him away, smiling as well.

"Be lucky that you are." you told him, smiling even wider, as you began to sort the takeout boxes. "Because if not, I wouldn't share the food with you."

Now he huffed, looking through the various things you had bought. "You could eat a week from this, if you were alone." he told you, looking back up at you. "Luckily for you, I'm lovely and I will help you to eat all this food."

Rolling your eyes you nodded. "Yes, I have to thank you then, kind sir."

Laughing, he went to gather plates and stuff.

He really was lovely.

Sitting down beside him on the couch you each took something to eat. It didn't stop him from stealing food from your plate, though.

Huffing you held your plate out of his reach, as he cocked a brow at you. "Just take your own food!" you argued, trying to bite back the smile that threatened to split your lips.

"But I want yours!" he gave back, pouting. Tilting your head you lowered the plate. He used the opportunity, grabbing a handful of fries from it.

"Hey!" you shouted, giggling, as you tried to reach for his plate in return.

Holding it out of reach he mimicked you.

Laughing you straddled his lap, his arm holding the plate losing its balance, causing a few of his nuggets to drop to the floor.

Eyes widening he looked after them, before his gaze fell on you. "Nugget muderer!" he shouted, putting the plate and yours aside, before he started to tickle you.

Laughing, you tried to break free of his hold, but he pressed you against his body. His hands stilled, as his breath fanned over your face.

Kissing you his hands went further down, gripping your ass.

"I want a revenge." you told him inbetween kisses.

"And I want my nuggets back."

[cuddlepilefics]

Not your day - August of whump - Day 1

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Wooyoung

Caregivers: Ateez

Prompts: food/risk/overexertion

@augustofwhump

No one’s POV.:

Only very little was going Wooyoung’s way today. He was about ready to call it quits and it was only ten AM. How was he supposed to last till tonight? It had started with him accidentally sleeping in, which he shouldn’t whine about too much because the same was true for Hongjoong and Jongho. His dorm mates would’ve woken him otherwise. Somehow, they seemed to find their footing much faster than Wooyoung, who still felt his heart racing trying to get into the flow of the day. Though sympathetic, the group couldn’t really consider their friends struggle, their schedule too hectic to allow room for personal adjustments. Hell, the trio hadn’t even gotten an opportunity to eat breakfast before finding themselves in front of their phones to hold video calls.

Though one fan worriedly commented on it when she heard Wooyoung’s stomach growl over the phone, he did get the whole event over with well. When they were done, San slipped him a protein bar and smiled: “To hold you over till you get an opportunity to have a meal.” – “I-I thought we could eat now?!”, the younger frowned, sinking his teeth into the protein bar. Catching up to him, Hongjoong denied: “We’re headed to an interview, so if you have any snacks in your backpack, better take the opportunity right now. Already kinda late, so there won’t be any waiting time for us.” The leader ignored the horrified look his dongsaeng gave him and scarfed down the apple Seonghwa had given him.

Worried about their friends who hadn’t even gotten the chance to pack any food that morning, the members went through their bags and collected whatever snacks they were carrying to make sure Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Jongho would have something to fuel them for the next one or two hours. It wasn’t much but they’d make do. They had to. Wooyoung’s stomach ached a little as he settled in for the interview, Yeosang next to him, shooting him an encouraging smile. Forcing himself to return it, the younger refrained from slipping his hand under his shirt to palm at his sore middle.

Wooyoung used to get stress stomach aches when he was in middle school, so he blamed the discomfort on the chaos of the day. Knowing this, Yeosang stuck close to him and occasionally rubbed his back in a comforting gesture. Though Wooyoung hid it quite well, Seonghwa caught on that there was a problem because he saw Yeosang acting just a tiny bit more affectionate towards their dongsaeng and made sure to check on the boy too. “Upset tummy”, Wooyoung mumbled, when the eldest asked if anything was wrong with. They were just making their way back to the company for a dance practice session. Resting his hand on the other’s shoulder, Seonghwa worried: “Is it hunger pains?” – “Not sure. Stress probably but the hunger isn’t helping��, Wooyoung winced, finally allowing himself to rub his stomach to try and soothe it.

Usually, the group would be able to squeeze in a little break but today they’d be working with their choreographers, who were also on a tight schedule, so their next break would have to wait for another two hours. Despite the pain slowly morphing into cramps, Wooyoung did his best to learn the new choreography quickly. He was a main dancer after all. Seonghwa encouraged him to sip water whenever he got the chance to but the younger eventually refused, claiming the liquid wasn’t sitting well in his empty stomach anymore. “We’ll have a break soon, so you guys can have a proper meal”, Yunho smiled before showing Jongho the move again. The maknae had trouble focusing and it took him longer to memorize the choreography. He’d have to revise it with Yunho and Wooyoung some other day.

Hongjoong too struggled but being the leader, he fought to hide it, not wanting to leave a bad impression with the choreographers. That could only work so long and he eventually found himself in Seonghwa’s arms, his only hyung manhandling him to the floor. “Sorry- sorry, just- just need a moment”, Hongjoong panted, sitting with his head bowed between his knees. His ears were ringing and he barely heard Seonghwa talking to him. Wooyoung brought him his water bottle, heart aching to see the older looking so faint. At the same time, it was reassuring to know his friends weren’t coping too well with the incident either. He didn’t feel as much as a failure, knowing that even their leader was still affected by it.

When the practice was finally over, Wooyoung remained splayed on the floor, drenched in sweat and still panting heavily. Hongjoong didn’t get up either, slowly sipping from his water bottle as he tried to catch his breath. Jongho leant against the wall next to his bag and dried his face on his towel before shooting Seonghwa a pained smile. “We have a one hour break before we need to perform, so should we order takeout here? You guys don’t look like you got the energy to go out somewhere right now”, the eldest offered, checking their schedule on his phone. “I vote yes”, Hongjoong announced, “’m starving.” Jongho was quick to agree but Wooyoung remained quiet. His stomach hurt… badly.

It took some prodding from Seonghwa and Hongjoong but Wooyoung eventually let himself be talked into having some rice, despite his cramps. To his relief, the first few bites soothed his stomach and he finally realized just how starved he was. “Woo, slow down”, San warned, watching worriedly as the younger scarfed down his meal, “You’re going to make yourself sick.” Shooting the older a frustrated glare, Wooyoung whined: “I’m starving, leave me alone. This is my first proper meal today and it’s already late afternoon.” – “Woah, no need to get defensive. Just saying that it’s a risk having so much food in such a short time span and so soon before performing”, San appeased, defensively raising his hands. Though he understood his friend’s point, Wooyoung didn’t manage to slow himself down. He had gone hungry for too long.

The meal seemed to restore his energy and Wooyoung settled into his seat with a satisfied smile, buckling his seatbelt. They’d only have to shoot the performance before their schedule would conclude for the day. He hadn’t thought himself capable of dancing anymore after practice but now he was confident that he could. Sure, he had eaten a little more than he usually would in one sitting and he felt the waistband of his jeans dig into his tummy but he hoped his stage outfit would conceal that somehow. Despite San’s warning that he'd feel sick, quite the opposite was the case. Wooyoung felt better than he had for most of the day, his stomach finally content and the hunger pains eased.

He wasn’t all that lucky with his stage outfit though and couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with the way the tight pants made his full middle look squishy. That couldn’t be helped now though and Wooyoung remained standing while they waited to be called up. Sitting down was just too uncomfortable in these pants and they didn’t squeeze his stomach as much when he was standing. Only this performance, the dancer reminded himself. He’d be back off that stage and in a pair of comfy sweatpants soon. His bed was waiting for him at the dorm and this dreadfully chaotic day would soon be over. He could only hope to wake up on time the next morning.

So deep in thought, Wooyoung almost missed them being called up and startled when Yeosang’s hand appeared on his arm to guide him to the stage. Ugh, for some reason, Wooyoung didn’t feel like dancing anymore all of a sudden and dancing in such a tight outfit when his stomach was already so full also didn’t sound too appealing. It wasn’t like he had a choice though, so he stifled a burp against his fist before stepping out in front of the cameras. He got this!

Running on adrenaline, Wooyoung wasn’t bothered by his clothes at all. He didn’t even feel them till he struck the ending pose, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his stomach turning as if he was still dancing. With every breath, his waistband dug deep into his tummy. His stomach lurched and Wooyoung barely managed to fight off the urge to gag. Not even waiting for the director to signal that they were done, he turned and clamped his hands over his paling lips before rushing off stage. He had just made it to the steps when his throat contracted with a gag. Stumbling down the steps, Wooyoung made it out of sight and retched into his hands. Tears sprung to his eyes and it took a second for him to see the trashcan in front of him.

Wooyoung clutched the trashcan a staff member had thrust into his hands. He hadn’t even caught his breath before it was cut off by a wave of sick. A hand appeared on his back and someone steadied him when he doubled over again. Over the ringing in his ears, Wooyoung thought he might’ve heard the other members get of stage but he couldn’t be sure. He also didn’t get a break to look up and check, his stomach too busy trying to turn itself inside out. “Come on, sit”, someone instructed softly and Wooyoung shakily stumbled along before someone pushed on his shoulders to ease him down in a chair. That had come not a moment too late because his knees already felt like jelly and he didn’t know how long he would’ve remained on his feet without losing his balance.

When Wooyoung finally got a moment to breathe, he glanced up at San with watering eyes, shooting the older a pleading look. “Not gonna say it”, San sighed, pulling up a chair. He sat down next to Wooyoung and rubbed his back through the next round. By the time Wooyoung was done and spat into the trash, trying to get rid of a string of saliva, Seonghwa stood in front of him, holding a water bottle and tissues. He handed his dongsaeng a tissue to wipe his lips with and smiled sympathetically: “Today’s really not your day, is it?” Tiredly cleaning himself up, Wooyoung shook his head and accepted a tiny sip of water before handing the bottle back. He placed the trashcan onto the floor between his feet and rested his head in his hands.

The day had been awful but a small smile crept onto Wooyoung’s lips, despite the headache he had developed in the last five minutes after throwing up. No matter how awful the day had been, it was over now. He had his sweatpants in his bag and only needed to get changed before they could ho home. Home, where his bed was waiting for him and he could go to sleep confident that the next day would be better.

[therobotmonster]

Let's talk about Toys in Cereal

This is a part of several posts of mine that have gotten big, but I figure it's best to address the phenomenon itself in a new post.

If you want to just browse a ton of cool old cereal toys once we're done, go to: www.cratercritters.com. It's a neat site.

Cereal toys are a long-standing American tradition. Some tag-questions asked if they went away because of greed or because of regulations, and that's complicated.

There are food regulations that complicate things. You may have heard that Kinder Eggs are not legal in the US.

This is usually framed as a "fear the stupid American Kids will eat the toy" kind of thing. This is not the case.

The actual regulation that blocks the Kinder Egg is about food safety from bacterial and undisclosed allergen contamination. Inserting a baggie with a toy into that exposes everything in the cereal bag to the outside of the toy package, and that's a no-no in the US market. The rare thing we're more strict about than the EU.

But that doesn't affect cereal toys, because they can get around it by having it in a separate package outside the food bag, between the inner back and the cardboard box. Much easier on the parents to find when you open the box, too.

Kinder has, themselves, addressed the US Kinder Egg problem the same way, with the Kinder Joy.

Splitting the package. into two sections that are individually sealed.

But a big blow to the practice was the end of the Australian R&L Toy Company.

R&L made tons of simple pack-in Premium toys from the 60s through the 80s. They were the primary supplier to Kelloggs, and made everything from simple one-piece figurines to little build-yourself-action-toys.

For instance, these "Wacky Walkers" worked by tying a string to the figure and the weight, then dropping the weight off a table. The figures would hobble forward on their feet, pulled by the weight. Neat-o!

Then there's stuff like these Toolybirds. I'd sell any one of you to the goblin king for a set of these, because I sure can't afford them at $25 apiece or more. I'll probably just make some dinosaur-knockoff version or somesuch to 3d print, eventually.

R&L went out of business in the 80s and its molds were sold to a toy manufacturing company in Mexico that produced their stuff as bag toys for awhile, before everything just faded away.

Meanwhile, the cereal market was forced to contract elsewhere without a devoted company doing essentially just that.

Liscenses came to the rescue. Fun fact, if you wanted toys from most of the Disney Afternoon, your only hope was Kellogg's.

As time went on, you started even getting software in cereal.

Chex gave out a free, PG-version of DOOM for free. Not a couple of demo levels, a whole game, run on the doom engine, with aliens you zap with a spoon.

But as time went on, companies got less and less into the idea of enticing with freebies, and parents started objecting to the marketing of sugar cereals with toy surprises, because given the opportunity, most parents will blame the company for making something the kid wants for their unwillingness to say "No."

The eternal conflict:

Cool thing the kid would enjoy that you might have to put your foot down over because enforcing moderation is a parent's job, verses unobjectionable conformist mush designed to increase your kids' "goodness levels."

I think the banning of cartoon mascots for snacks in certain countries is also ridiculous.

Thing is, any company could bring them back at any time.

The Monster cereals did figurines of their mascots in cosplay in 2021. Of course, they did it as a limited edition bullshit thing where the actual monster cereal mascots were chase figures, but they made them, they could do them at any time if they wanted to.

They could bring the magic back. Nothing is stopping them.

'cept there's no room for joy on the spreadsheet.

Gotta hit you with a little ennui. It's that ambergris stink that makes the perfume truly sweet.

[nighttimeebony]

Reasons why I think L has autism (updated now that I've been diagnosed with autism):

He does not emote very often. L's facial expressions and tone of voice are very flat and almost never change with the situation no matter what happens.

He does not know what is considered appropriate for social interaction.

The fact that he doesn't wear shoes implies that he has sensory issues with physical stimuli. In the same way that autistic people are bothered by tags on clothes or certain textures of fabric, some autistic people don't like wearing shoes because they like to be able to feel the ground or because they don't like how tight or restrictive shoes feel. (I also hate wearing shoes for this exact reason, and I will go barefoot whenever physically possible. If given the opportunity, I would literally never wear shoes)

Autistic people can also struggle with physical care and maintaining proper hygiene, which we can see in L by the fact that he wears the same shirt and pants every day, and by how messy and unkempt his hair is

It's fair to say that detective work and psychology is L's special interest. He's driven more by how the work stimulates him mentally rather than because of a particularly strong moral compass.

It's safe to conclude that L also has low empathy. It's not that he doesn't care about people, because he does, but he doesn't seem to understand it when people get upset with him for making certain decisions for the sake of solving the case. He is very much a "logic first" kind of person, and for the most part, he makes decisions based on what makes the most practical, rational sense to him, even if it seems morally dubious.

Literally the only thing we ever see him eat is candy and sweets. Autistic people are often picky eaters and have difficulty eating certain kinds of food because of either the texture or sensory processing issues, so a lot of autistic people tend to eat primarily sweets and junk food because of this. (My bf and one of my close friends, both autistic, are also like this. My bf doesn't like most vegetables bc of the texture, and the only thing I've ever seen my friend eat is Uncrustable PB&Js and chocolate; chocolate is like a whole thing for her.)

He has a tendency to touch his mouth, but he also rubs his feet together while he's sitting. These are both examples of stimming. (I also have a habit of touching my mouth and picking at my lips)

The bags under his eyes indicate that he has difficulty sleeping

He interprets certain instances of conversation literally, like the infamous "Yes, that would be dark" line

Incredibly blunt and doesn't waste time with small talk, even coming across as rude a lot of the time

L's level of eye contact is abnormal. A lot of autistic people don't make eye contact because it makes them uncomfortable, but some autistic people will go in the opposite direction and overcompensate by staring, which is exactly what L does: staring directly at people without blinking for inappropriate amounts of time (Wednesday Addams does this too)

The way he sits

The way he holds objects with the very tips of his fingers

In the deleted theater scene when Light and L meet for the first time, L wipes his hands off after shaking Light's hand

He frequently invades other people's personal space (again, see the deleted theater scene)

[wiypt-writes]

Rawhide

Ch 14: Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning’s End.

Summary: The dust settles after the battle and finally, you get to return to Avengers Ranch at Stark Wood.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) talk of injury…language…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction. I do not own any characters contained within, bar the reader and any other OCs that may be mentioned. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted/translated to any other site. Please comment, like and reblog.

W/C 5.5k ish

A/N: So here it is, the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who’s read and supported this series, and to my beta @spectre-posts

There will be an epilogue at some point, but for now we leave out Alpha Steve and his Omega to their happy ever after. This has been fun to write, I hope you all enjoy

Rawhide Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 13

You know those scenes in movies? The ones that come at the end of a heroic showdown, or battle. There’s silence, and then the rain starts, or the clouds clear. And the heroes stand there, bloodied and bruised, wiping the filth off their faces whilst some cheesy, melancholy yet rousing overture plays in the background.

Well, the reality is somewhat different.

There was no music, no heroes in fact. Just those who remained from both Shield and Hydra, stood in a silent cease fire. All around you, the wounded were being tended to by Medics, Natasha included.

Hydra factions were approaching Shield ones, their hands were up in surrender in most cases. But some held out a single hand, extended in front of them in displays of amicable concession, ready to shake.

It was surreal, you really couldn’t grasp how two factions that had been so bloody and violently opposed to one another could now be working together the way they were, but then, you guessed such was the nature of war.

It made all the bloodshed even more pointless in your eyes, but it was exactly as Steve had said; whilst Shield and Hydra existed, so would the divide.

Simply telling someone their opinions were wrong would never work, a person has to be given the opportunity to explain, to understand, to debate. A chance to see reason and logic, and not just stubbornly believe that they were the only ones with a valid point to make.

And that was what had been lacking from the whole Shield/Hydra set up from the start. The Civil War hadn’t solved anything, it had simply pushed Hydra and Shield even further apart, which had come at a heavy cost to people like you.

Now, you hoped, that would change.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts loud and clear. You turned your face to look at your Alpha, and his eyes locked on to yours. “It’s okay…it’s over.” Then you realised his lips weren’t moving. His hand was pressed to the mark on his neck. “Are you hurt?”

As you watched, you raised your own, shaking fingers pressing to the intricate gold infinity loops. “I’m fine Alpha…”

With a nod, he dropped his hand and held it out for you to take. As Steve pulled you to him, you felt something cold and wet drip onto your head.

It was starting to rain.

You turned your face to the sky and closed your eyes.

*****

In the hours following the battle, Steve was bustled off to an emergency WSC meeting with Tony and Fury. As you waited for them to return, you’d taken up seat with the rest of the team in Natasha’s hospital room as she led there having been patched up. The doctors hadn’t been too pleased about the blatant flaunting of the 2 visitors at a time rule, not to mention the fact that you’d refused to leave Commando outside…but one look at Bruce’s angry face had made them back off.

“Are you ever not eating?” Sam looked at Peter, who was sprawled in one of the chairs, his arm in a cast whilst the other was stuffing his face with potato chips from a bag which sat on his lap.

“He’s a growing boy.” Bucky teased, his bruised face breaking into a teasing grin, “aint that right?”

“Hey, I saved your ass out there.” Peter pointed at him, “if I hadn’t tangled that dude up in my ropes and slingers, he’d have shot you straight in the back of your head. You got sloppy, stopped watching your 6.”

The room fell silent, before Cling roared with laughter. “He has you there, Buckaroo!”

“Piss off.”

“Now now, no need to resort to that kind of language…” Natasha snorted.

“You know, if you weren’t already in a hospital bed…” Bucky glared at her.

“You’d do what?” She scoffed.

You smiled to yourself, simply listening and watching as your friends exchanged well natured insults and teasing. You felt a large hand softly rest on your shoulder and you turned with a smile to look up at Thor.

“Are you okay, little bird?”

“I...yeah. As okay as I can be, I mean, I shot my brother…”

“Oh, I’ve lost count of the amount of times my brother has shot or stabbed me.” Thor waved his hand. “Your brother only has himself to blame. He was offered a way out, but he couldn’t let go of his pride or beliefs.”

“He’s always been a stubborn asshole.” You gave a wry little smile, “just like my father.”

“Yes, and just as my father predicted, it was that same stubborn line of thinking which brought Hydra to their knees. You were ready to sacrifice yourself for your mate, and still Hydra didn’t see that as an act of bravery on your part, but a sign of weakness on the part of your Alpha.” Thor took a deep breath, his hand running through his dirty hair. “Maybe now they can start to understand that tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.”

“You sound like Al Capone…” You shook your head.

“Who?

“’Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness’, seriously? You don’t…” you snorted and then shook your head. “it doesn’t…not important.”

“Well, indeed.” Thor merely raised his eyebrow as he nodded. “That was your brother and Rumlow’s biggest mistake. The underestimated you, when I’m fact, you are stronger than many Alpha’s I know. Stronger than me, stronger than Steve…and their inability to understand this, is what led us here.”

You looked at Thor, blinking as you swallowed. “I don’t…I doubt that…”

“You doubt it? Do you think that Steve would have the strength to kill Bucky, should he have needed to?”

“I…”

“And I can tell you know, for all the times me and Loki have fought, I’ve never tried to kill him.”

You swallowed. “I…I didn’t set off wanting to kill him, I just…it would never have ended. And I was so angry…I hated him…I still do. I don’t care he’s dead.”

Thor smiled, and shrugged, “and no one will or can blame you for having those feelings, but I leave you with this thought. If you were so weak, Omega, do you think you’d be able to sit here as you are now, admitting to those feelings? Admitting that you don’t harbour any guilt at all over your own brother’s death? Omega’s can be as strong as Alpha’s, if not stronger when it comes to the protection of their so called pack.”

You blinked, but before you could reply the door opened and Steve’s huge frame filled the doorway. Behind him, you could hear Tony arguing with a nurse.

“Yeah, and my money is paying for all this, so if I want to hold a disco in this room I will…” He pushed past Steve into the room, and looked round. “Well, this looks like fun. Can anyone join?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “if I pretend to be dead will you go home, Shell Head?”

As Tony bit back with some smart ass quip, your eyes flicked to Steve. His face was bruised, nose a little misshapen. His lip was split, as was his left eyebrow, all evidence from the battle and the blows he’d taken from Rumlow.

He was also favouring his right side, his left leg having been stabbed by the knife Rumlow had been fighting with.

Your feet moved slowly toward him without thought. Your head tilted just a bit as your eyes looked over the battered features of his face. Ever so gently, your hand lifted to his bearded cheek. He sighed, his eyes closed as he leaned into your palm, with the air of a dog seeking out touch and comfort. “I will, Mega, once we get home.”

“Home? As in…”

“The ranch, yeah.”

The ranch, it sounded so pleasant coming off his lips. You’d missed it. The feel of it, the way it enveloped you like a den, your little nest by the window. You were desperate to feel that warmth, the feeling of 'home'.

“So, Steve….” Bucky spoke and Steve looked over, “what’s happening now? What did the WSC say?”

“Just what we all agreed on. Shield and Hydra, both go. Well, go in the sense that they can’t be segregated in the way they are.” Steve took a deep breath, “so the WSC agreed to a joint Congress. Reps from both factions to be elected, democratically. And there will be a number of Constitutional laws past, which make Omega rights basic human rights across every state in the country. That means that even states which end up with a ‘red’ representative will have to abide by them.”

The details made a breath in your chest hitch quietly, but Steve sensed it. His eyes flicked to yours and he noted that little quiver in your lip.

“It’s…it’s what should have happened last time,” Sam shook his head, “instead of carving up our country and leaving red and blue to police their own states, the WSC should have been braver and we should have listened to each other. Maybe if we’d done that instead of feeling a desperate need to contain the threat as opposed to listen and reason, Rumlow would never have gained the support he did.”

There was silence as everyone took the news in, before chatter turned to what was going to need to happen next. But, after fifteen or so minutes, you saw Steve shift uncomfortably, and that was when you gently touched your mark.

“Home…”

He turned to you and nodded.

****

“Man, I need a shower.” Steve groaned as you headed inside, the smell of home overwhelming you.

“Plastic wrap.” You smiled softly.

“Huh?”

“To stop the sutures in your leg getting wet. Trust me, it works…”

By the time you’d located it, he was upstairs; a trail of gear and tactical uniform pieces showed you the way.

The shower was running and you watched as Steve stood, his upper body bruised and battered, just like his face. Your eyes scanned down, following that strip of hair which trailed all the way from his chest right down over his Adonis belt, to the thick, wirey patch between his legs.

You kept going, over his toned upper thighs, your eyes stopping at the left one, a clean white bandage wrapped securely around it.

"You gonna let me wrap that up?"

“Do I have a choice?” His voice carried an air of amusement

"Nope." You tore off a piece of plastic wrap and squatted down to secure it over the bandage and around this thigh. Steve simply watched you as you wrapped his leg and then stood. "Time to get the grime off."

“Would now also be the time to suddenly give into the pain I’m in and ask you to come help?” Steve whispered. He swallowed, and as you looked into his eyes you could see he wasn’t joking. His mask was slipping. “I’m too old for this shit."

“Oh, Alpha.” You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers sliding into his beard. The steam from the shower filled the farmhouse bathroom. The mirrors were fogged up and the air grew thick. “lemme take care of you.”

He nodded, and then merely watched as you stripped from your own filthy clothes and held out your hand.

It was a complete role reversal, you moving Steve into position with a wordless command. And he simply happy to acquiesce as you guided him under the warm spray.

But was it really? Was it a true role reversal? Or was it just that being with Steve allowed you to be a full Omega. Your caring nature, the desire to nurture and love were not only needed here, but wanted and appreciated. They weren’t just traits that were taken for granted, to be used and abused.

You started with the soap and sponge, building a lather that was thick and sudsy. Your delicate touch held his hand in your free one while you held him still to wash his arm. The lather began to turn from white to gray as you scrubbed away the dirt and grime from his wrist and up toward his shoulder. You gently turned and twisted his arm, by way of your locked hands, to clean his skin. Then you moved up and across his shoulders to the other arm, paying careful mind of the cuts and stitchless wounds that littered his skin.

The colors of war washed down your body with the pooling water at your feet. Down the drain went blood and mud, sweat and tears. Your hands roamed softly over Steve's back before you brought the sponge and your own body around to his front.

Gently, the sponge in your hand cleaned away his face, those striking blue eyes of his entranced by your movements. You slid it down the side of his neck, over the curl of his shoulder.

"I love you," you whispered.

Steve smiled, his eyes blinking slowly. “I love you too, Mega…”

"Kiss me, Alpha."

With a soft sigh, he leaned down, his lips pressing to yours gently.

Your hands gently cupped his bearded cheeks and held him there. As your tongue slipped over his lips, you heard him whimper a little. It was a sound you’d never heard from an Alpha before.

You tipped your self forward on your toes and deepened the kiss. Your fingers slid through his beard and into his hair as you steadied yourself.

His hands softly slid from your hips to your back, splaying across your skin.

You forearm pressed against his neck, just at your bonding mark without intending to. You felt him shiver, a spark flowing through the pair of you. You could hear his thoughts, a jumble of arousal, relief but also fear…and guilt.

You pulled back just a little, "tell me, Steve."

“You…I almost lost you. I let him get the better of me and you had to…had to step in.”

You bumped your nose with his, "I'm right here....safe. Because of you." You spoke softly, assuringly, your eyes closed.

He shook his head, “no…you saved me. You’re the reason we’re here. You…your courage and your brains. Not me. You came up with the plan. You…” he swallowed and dropped his chin , “I failed you.”

"Steve Rogers, you look at me right now," you pulled back. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Ever!" you weren't shouting or raising your voice. In fact, your voice was filled with emotion, sad emotions because he felt that way. Your eyes were misty as you bore into his.

“I’m your Alpha. I should be able to keep you safe…that’s twice now I didn’t…”

"I don't fault you for it, and I never will. I, we came out on the other side of it." You kissed his lips, "and we came out of it together."

Steve took a deep, shaky breath as you looked up at him. “I love you, Steve. My alpha…”

"Omega....my omega."

You purred a little and moved back, your nose nudging at the mark on his neck, inhaling the scent over his mating gland.

"I wanna love on you, Alpha," you speak against his neck.

Steve swallowed, the tendons and muscles in his neck tensing as he gave a slow nod, and then he bowed his head in submission.

“I’m yours, Omega…”

You were gentle with your hands, dragging your fingers down his neck and over his shoulders. You did this while you kissed him, your tongue slowly, softly exploring his mouth.

Your hands moved down over his chest and his abs. One rest agaisnt the lower indent of his Adonis while your other gently took his cock.

He gave a grunt, his arm moving from your back and he planted his palm against the cool tiles just to the side of your head.

You stroked him, giving him a twist as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his shaft. His jaw was slack, forehead pressed to yours, eyes still open.

You glanced up at him and bit your lip. You could see him releasing control but there was something in that stare that showed you his Alpha side was pacing.

"You're holding back," you smirked. But your wrist picked up the pace and your palm grew a little tighter.

“Yeah…because you…” he grunted a little, “wanted control.”

"And I've got it," you turned your neck presses your lips into his wrist before dropping to your knees.

“Yeah…” the hand that wasn’t resting against the wall slipped into your hair, “you do…”

Your lips wrapped around his tip and your throat opened around his length as you swallowed him. Slowly, you drew back and forth against him.

His head dropped forward, eyes flickering shut as his soft noises of satisfaction filled your ears.

Your hands settled on his thighs, careful to avoid the bandage as you slowly increased your speed and hollowed your cheeks.

Not only could you hear him, you could feel him. The tension and his raft of emotions were clearing, you could sense it.

You kept up, taking care of his needs, his desires.

You knew he’d given in completely, when his hips started to slowly move in time with your actions.

You hummed around him. It was instinct and lust that took over.

His hand tightened slightly in your hair, but his hips didn’t pick up any more pace. He was letting you control, as much as he could.

You pulled off and switched to your hand, the pressure and rhythm not ceasing from your mouth.

Steve’s breathing was fast and shallow, you could feel him twitching in your palm,

"It's okay, Alpha. Let go."

With a low growl, his hips began to rut forward as he fucked your hand.

"Thassit, Steve..."

“Fuck, Y/N…”

"Let go, Alpha, you want to. Nice and easy, baby..."

His ruts became a little quicker, and you tightened your grip. Your eyes flicked up as Steve’s looked down and you could see the wanton heat he was feelin inside reflected in his expression.

His hips stuttered, and with a choke and a little whimper you felt him pulse in your palm, his warm seed mixing with the water as it trickled down your arm.

The Alpha in him growled but the Steve in him dropped his forehead to the tile as his knees gave way. But he managed to keep himself upright as you slowly got to your feet.

Your lips tenderly kissed his, still providing the soft care you sensed he needed.

“Sweetheart…”

"Yeah?"

“As much as I’d love to, I don’t think my leg could take me railing you against the wall.”

Your clean hand ran through his wet hair, tucking a bit back behind his ear. "It's okay, I'm okay. This isn't about me, Steve."

You cleaned him up and cleaned yourself up, standing by to help him out of the shower incase that stabbed leg faltered.

“Do you need to eat?” You asked as you both made your way to the bedroom wrapped in towels

"I could. It's been...been a long few days," he sighed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm fucking exhausted."

You grabbed a clean set of clothes for him and checked his bandage after the saran wrap and it was fairly dry. "Can you manage getting dressed?"

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse. Trust me.” He smiled, his hand reaching to scratch commando’s head as the large dog laid it on his knee.

You bent at your waist and pressed your lips to his damp forehead. Then, with a smile you left him and headed for the kitchen.

Whilst you and Steve hadn’t been back to the ranch for a fortnight or so now, the other guys had. More so to make sure the livestock were okay and that no one had been in the house. But right now, you were simply grateful that meant your kitchen and fridge were stocked with the basics you needed. Milk, eggs, butter, yoghurts and some cheese sat in the refrigerator and your pantry was still stocked.

It wasn’t long before Steve smelled the delicious aromas and slowly brought himself downstairs, his trusty pup at his heel in support. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he saw you at the stove, stirring something in a pan.

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of this, seeing you happy, safe, in your shared home.

You’d made tomato soup, grilled cheese, and a bag of frozen fries which you’d tossed in a little rosemary and sea salt to give them a little bite.

Neither of you talked much as you wolfed your food down, and when through, neither of you took much convincing to head up to bed.

The weight of the past few weeks hadn't settled within you. You knew it was over, the battle, the war.

Your brother.

But it felt as if you were still in it. As you pulled back the bedding, you scoffed a bit. This was too normal, too routine. It was just odd. Your heart and your instinct pulled you to care for Steve and his needs. You blocked the rest out.

With a groan, Steve sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"Are you alright?" You asked with a soft worry.

“Yeah…” he assured you, as he gently shuffled between the covers.

"Okay," you whispered and did the same.

Steve rolled to his side and looked at you. “I love you.”

You turned your head and gazed back, "I love you, too."

His fingers trailed down your neck. You moved over to him, your own hand reaching out to thread your fingers through his beard.

His eyes fluttered closed and a sigh escaped his nose. "You're worried," he spoke softly. "I can feel it."

“About you.”

He sighed, "'Mega...."

“I know. I can’t help it.”

"It's over, sweetheart. It's all over."

The implications of what he said suddenly started to sink in. “I guess…yeah…”

And then the tears came.

You sobbed until there was nothing left in you. A shuddering to your chest.

Steve kissed your head and pulled back to look down at you. Your face was wet from your salty tears, your eyes swollen.

His hands moved to swipe the tears from under your eyes.

“I could've lost you. I...everything, I..."

“But you didn’t. And we’re here. Yes, there’s a bit of a way to go but, well, I have this feeling. This time it’s done.”

You could only nod as Steve took a deep breath. “we move on. No more fighting. And…” he moved and slowly rolled you into your back, “we…build our life, our home, our future.”

"I think I like that idea.”

"Well, I'm glad you do." Steve chuckled "because you feature quite heavily in all of it."

You smirked, "how so?"

"Well, "Steve kissed down your neck to your collarbone "I mean we are bonded. For life. It's a soul bond. You couldn't leave now even if you wanted to."

You stretched your neck, "a rarity at best. But I don't want to leave."

“Good.” He kissed across the dip of your throat. “Then you’ll have no objections to marrying me.”

You stilled, "Steve...."

“Yeah….”

"Did... Marry you?"

“Mmmhmmm. I mean…” he moved and propped himself up to look at you, “technically we don’t need to. We’re bonded. That’s the main thing, but…I’d like you to, if you want.”

"I...yes," you gasped as you read the look on his face.

“Yeah?” His mouth curled into a smile.

"Yes," you nodded with a smile of your own.

You whimpered as he kissed you, your hands carding through his beard and to the back of his neck, cradling his head.

“There’s…something else I wanna do.” You whispered against his mouth.

"What's that, baby?"

“I…I wanna go back to Texas. Once the dust has settled and, well, the WSC have done whatever they’re gonna…”

Steve blinked. “Okay, that’s…”

“Just to visit.” You swallowed, “my mamas grave is there and…” you looked down a little, avoiding his eyes, “Colin’s will be somewhere. I left so fast, I never got to say goodbye, and thank him for what he did. I know it’s stupid, they ain’t really gonna be there…but…”

"Hey," he sat up a little more, his weight on his good knee and elbows, "we can do whatever you want. Whatever it is."

“Thank you.”

"There's no need to thank me," he blinked. "I'll spend the last of our days giving you everything you deserve."

Your eyes filled and Steve softly kissed the tip of your nose. “Now…I said I didn’t think I could love on you in the shower…but I think I could manage it just fine here, doll…”

"Okay," you whispered with a small sniffle. "I'm yours."

“I know…” his nose nudged at your bonding mark, scenting your gland.

You inhaled and you preened, elongating your neck as the tip of his nose moved along your tendon. His tongue then traced the line of the golden infinity loops, making you whimper as it sent jolts through your body.

Your hands curled back around his neck as he did it again and a third time.

“Steve…”

"Sweetheart...."

“Need you…”

“I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

And he did.

It felt like no time at all before he had you both out of your sleep wear, when in fact Steve took his time, undressing you slowly and gently. It was like you’d been in a trance, simply allowing him to caress and love on you.

It felt good, damn good. A sensual relief that had been building in you for some time.

He made you cum twice with his mouth, and when he finally crawled back over you, slotting his hips between yours, you were more than ready to feel him.

You gasped and sighed as he stretched you. Steve made you feel full and satiated just from the simple action alone. His hands slid up to find yours, fingers laced together as he gently pressed them to the pillow at either side of your head.

It was breathy, your connecting bodies were punctured with sighs, whimpers and quiet moans. Your words were soft and whispered. His eyes never truly left yours. This was an Alpha loving on his Omega in every pure form.

His thrusts were slow, deep. Your hips rolling together, your body sliding up the bed as he moved in and over hou.

You were holding out, enjoying the feel of him consuming every part of you. His scent, it settled you, his warmth comforted you. His phsycial being weighed you down like a secure blanket. The taste of his tongue on yours was encompassing and delightful.

Both of you could sense the other was holding out, you could feel Steve’s self control almost thrumming around his chest and limbs.

You nuzzled his bonding mark, "together, Alpha."

He groaned and managed a breathy nod, his head moving so he could see your eyes again.

“Let go, Steve..."

He gave a low, rumbling growl and then you saw it, that flash of gold round his beautiful blue irises.

You reacted instantly, your body tightening arou d him, curling into him, your own eyes streaking that reflective gold. The connection, the bond, ignited between you and your souls connected in one universe. A galaxy surrounded your vision and it was just you, and just Steve. United.

His forehead pressed to yours as you trembled beneath him, your hands tightening in his.

You whimpered in his ear. The exhale through your nose fanning his skin. The aura grew bright and then it faded as the warmth of your release blended with his.

For a while you both lay there. Whilst he wasn’t knotted, neither of you wanted to move.

He never pulled out, never pulled away. Rather, when his senses came too and his vision returned, his arms released yours. Then those built and strong arms wrapped around you. With a nudge to his left, he rolled so you were on his chest as he lay in his back.

You sighed happily, and snuggled into him, your head tucked under his chin.

And as you lay there in his arms, the darkness of the room was comforting.

“We can go for a ride tomorrow.” Steve’s deep voice spoke, breaking the silence. “Take the horses up to the hill. Just you and me.”

“And Commando,” you moved and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chest, just above his tattoo.

“And Commando,” he chuckled, kissing your head.

You closed your eyes, a contented smile on your lips. And then, for the first time in weeks you heard the barn owl that lived in the rafters, high about the stacked haybales screeching outside.

His arms tightened just a little as you both lay there, sated, safe and satisfied..

Alpha and Omega.

Soul mates, lovers, partners, equals.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Smoke and Mirrors

Hi :D Who's ready for this monster? Welcome to my Big Bang for this year! Special thank you to @tss_storytime for putting this together and giving me the opportunity and @dragonsarecats for being my amazing fantastic artist partner who created this cover art!

Summary: Roman and Remus don't have and never have had reflections. Logan has been betrayed by someone, but he’s not sure who. Patton's been dead for sixteen years and counting.

Somehow, all of these things are related.

Words: 3637

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Master List

“I’m just saying—” Remus says, almost sounding excited at this new revelation of his, “—the next step would definitely be an apartment building! Think about it, Roman!”

“I am thinking about it,” Roman says, tiredly. “I don’t want to be thinking about it, but I am.”

“So many people live there, you know? There’s, what, sixty units in your building, right? At least twenty of them have got to be families with little brats, then old people with their pets, other college students with friends over. On a Friday like today there’s got to be, like, over two hundred people. And then you have the narrow staircases, which Grandma and Grandpop can’t get down in a timely manner, and I bet with all the mold in the walls—”

“Remus,” Roman says, tilting his phone so that the microphone clearly picks up on how incredibly not-amused he is with the conversation.

“...the elevator is basically already on its last legs. Remember how it shook when I jumped in it last time?”

Roman remembers it really well actually, probably better than Remus, since Roman actually has a healthy dose of self preservation. Remus had just been finishing laughing his nasally, crackling chortle when the elevator doors opened again finally on Roman’s floor, and the sight of the bruising on Roman’s face when he saw him again was enough to set him off periodically throughout the rest of his three hour stay. 

Still, Roman knows that Remus has a point. Not that he’s going to admit it before he’s actually in a casket, because Remus would never let him live it down.

Roman side steps out of the way of a cyclist who seems to think the whole sidewalk belongs to them, and readjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder that is currently cutting off the circulation to his fingertips. The city isn’t entirely busy, nor the weather too terrible, but Roman is regretting choosing to do the hike back to his apartment building. His knockoff vans are hella cute today, but they were not made for long distance walking, and there’s a rock in his left one that he hasn’t managed to get out no matter how many times he’s stopped to take it off and shake.

“I’m just saying,” Remus repeats, “If I were—” 

“I hate to be the voice of reason here,” Roman says, “but you are not a serial arsonist, Remus!” 

“I could be. You don’t know everything I do in my free time.”

“You don’t have time to be an arsonist. Between all your comic deadlines and the various licenses you have accrued, you don’t spend enough time on this plane of Earth in order to have set fire to anything other than your toaster,” Roman rolls his eyes. “And that’s only when you remember to eat, Rem.” 

Remus blows a raspberry back at him directly into the receiver so that Roman can hear exactly how wet it is and cringe away from it. 

Remus had a talent for getting himself into trouble and trying new things that skirted the edge of legality, but he’d given up fires back when they were tweens. Whoever or whatever was doing it now seemed to be doing it with much more intention: a rental car in a half full parking garage, an abandoned warehouse in the industrial area already set to be demolished, a newly built, still for-sale two-story house in the suburbs (casualty: one, injured six). The most recent event had been two days ago when a department store nearly exploded right as it was closing, killing two employees, three customers, and a firefighter and injuring far more. The fires were slowly getting bigger and gaining more traction, as if gearing up for a grand finale and the news hadn’t been taking it easy.

The police and the FBI were apparently hot-on-the-case and the tip number line was almost engraved into Roman’s retinas from how it was plastered all over the place, begging for Cyra City civilians to stay aware, keep a close eye on things, and report anything that seemed suspicious.

So far no actual details about the whole thing had been made public (on the very valid worry of copycats), but the lack of information had left people far more options to gossip about it. So far Roman’s physical chemistry class was split between it being a handful of rowdy teenagers “rebelling” and it being a serial murderer winding up for an enmasse attack that would go down in history along with the “greats”. Most of the stores had started selling mini fire extinguishers in the checkout lines and Roman’s mom had called last week to see if he had already bought himself one, and Roman wasn’t embarrassed until he answered yes.

But Remus already knows all that, and had texted him a string of mocking emojis until Roman had asked if he should sell it. 

It’s currently sitting in his apartment next to his bed, in easy access if he spontaneously catches fire while sleeping. ((His last hook up had called him prepared, and well… Roman had been eager to show the guy just how prepared he was.))

Luckily, his beloved apartment building is around the corner and he can feel his second wind coming at even the thought of taking his shoes off and collapsing face first into his bed. He starts patting through his pockets for his keys, stalling his walk behind two older women in jogging outfits, and switches his phone to his other hand so he can check through his bag frustratedly. He’s found at least three chapsticks he thought he lost months ago, and his extra hairbrush, and about twenty seven receipts (one of which has the number of the cute barista and he makes a mental note to put that in his phone later). There’s a crumpled flier for some niche religious group that that Roman accepted partially because the guy handing them out looked a bit desperate for interaction, but mostly because they were outside of the boutique Roman likes, blocking the entrance. He tosses that one in the nearby trash can as he walks by.

Roman pins his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, using both hands to sift through his bag. His brain tumbles through the previous conversation trying to remember what they were talking about. 

“Did you eat today?”

“Huh?” Remus says, which is a Remusian for ‘What day is it?’ “Hey, how many people do you think I could murder and get away with?”

“Remus.”

“Probably like fifteen right? At least to start. Once I figured out how to do it. Gasoline and a lighter and I could probably get a full apartment building—”

“Honestly, going from no murder, to a few murders, to about a hundred is an insane jump. Even for you.”

“Well it wouldn’t be a full hundred. At least a few people would get out, right? Unless I barricaded the front doors, or like… chain-and-padlock-ed it closed.”

“The point still stands that— and I can’t believe you’re making me argue this— you didn’t set those fires and you aren’t going to set them in the future!”

Remus makes a disagreeable tone and Roman smiles graciously at the women nearby who probably just overheard that whole conversation and might call the police on him for it later. Lovely. He turns away quickly leaning into his phone.

“In fact, right now I bet I can guess exactly what you are doing!” Roman continues. “Sitting in your drawing chair, with both your computer monitors on. The left one has the sketches for the next page of your comic, half lined, and the right one has the character sheets for Anton and Pryce and the Dragon Witch. Your drawing pad is in front of you, and you’re spinning your pen in your hand aimlessly while we talk, and everything is the same way it was this morning.”

“You forgot the part where there’s a super hot stripper giving me a blowjob right now,” Remus says with the tell-tale clack of him putting down his digital art pen, which is as good as him admitting to it all. Roman pauses just enough to roll his eyes so hard he’s certain that Remus gets the vibe from his own apartment.

“Damnit,” he huffs, checking his pockets again. “Why can’t I find anything today?”

“Are you still looking for that compact mirror?” 

“Keys, now,” Roman says. “But I swear I had that mirror this morning when I left the apartment. I was late because I was cleaning it!”

Or well. Because he was trying to put on makeup via guesswork, but he didn’t need Remus knowing that was the real reason. 

“You know you could have made the jump with the right angle at the windows in your fancy science school, right? No one would even have noticed. All too busy being boring lame losers with no life, just like you.”

“I don’t like traveling without another mirror.”

“Um, hello? Phone screen!”

“I’m not going to leave my phone behin— found it!” 

“The mirror?”

“My keys,” Roman twists his keychain around his hand, and waves at the other college students loitering at the corner before he heads towards the entrance to his apartment building. “Look, Remus—”

“Yeah, yeah, homework, physics, blah blah blah, you’re not getting laid, blah blah—”

“Between the two of us, who walked in on the other in the middle of—”

“Between the two of us who forgot to return my copy of 2005′s Just Like Heaven and made me come get it myself?”

"You didn’t even like it!"

"I don’t like you either," Remus says. "And jeez for someone who looks exactly like me there are some startling fucking differences. Like length—”

“Tony didn’t have a problem with it.”

“I thought his name was Kyle?”

Roman frowns, pulling his key out of the door and catching it with his knee, thinking that night over. “No. He was definitely a Tony. His hair was… you know, Tony hair!”

“The fact that you had to rely on his hair is sad,” Remus states. “You get how that’s sad, right?”

“I’m hanging up—”

“Wait, wait! Just… you’re sure that…you’re not going to, like… burnaliveinafire?”

Roman blinks, and swallows back the ridiculous amount of softness that appeared out of nowhere, and hits like a sucker punch right through his ribcage in a way that is so very Remus.

“I’m not going to burn alive in a fire,” Roman says.

“… promise to jump over the second anything looks sketchy."

"There's, like, nine other apartment buildings and two hotels within walking distance! And like ten others around this district in the city!" Roman says, just short of whining because inside the building there are people who recognize him and he does not need them thinking all he does is whine and complain. At least the air conditioning in the lobby is running, offering relief from the horrible ten minute walk he was forced to endure. He does not get how normal people do this, all the time, every day!

"Fourteen, actually. I looked it up this morning and I don’t need your fancy math degree to know that’s a one in twenty-five chance. That’s a non-zero percentage," Remus counters, with that mocking tone that borders on awe because even after all this time he can’t imagine how Roman had gone from center stage to knee deep in calculus problems, willingly. He’d only made the mistake of asking Roman once, and since then both of them pretend that Roman had always dreamed of solving differentials. 

“It will take hours to find something that’s close to your apartment,” Roman says instead.

“At least you’ll be alive,” Remus says.

“Fine, fine….are you still wearing those dog tags?”

Remus makes an affirmative noise and Roman sighs. They had been polished relics of their childhood: something their parents had insisted that they have at all times for emergencies and that Roman and Remus had complained about endlessly. They hadn’t been allowed phones until they were nearly twelve years old because every argument of “we need it for emergencies” was countered by “you have necklaces that allow you to travel miles in a handful of inches”.

"And don’t use the elevators at all,” Remus adds. “I’m serious about this. They’re deathtraps in a fire. I’ll come over there and hide all your mascara.”

"Yeah, yeah," Roman stifles a yawn. "And if something happens, meet at that ugly gas station at the state border between us, don’t tell anyone where we are going, and don’t accept any rides from strangers."

"Don’t make me sound like Mom."

"Nag me a little less."

"Bitch."

"Dick."

"Dork."

"Geek."

"Loser."

"Dumbass," Roman says, far more affectionately than he meant it to come out as, and so he clears his throat quickly and he heads towards the elevator. “I’m hanging up now. Remember to eat something and I’ll see you in two days.”

“Two days? What’s.... ah, fuck me,” Remus says. There’s a loud creak of leather and Roman imagines Remus throwing all his weight back in his chair and staring at the ceiling as if he’s personally challenging fate itself. He breathes out heavily in a way that ironically mirrors how Roman’s own bones feel at the realization.

“Another year,” he says.

((He does not ask if Roman ever thinks it will get easier to bear. Roman does not answer him that no it probably won’t ever. It doesn’t make either of them feel better.))

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Roman says, forcibly shoving away the deary aura that descended on them as easily as he could. If he takes a breath and swallows away the lump in his throat he could pretend that they were talking about visiting each other for a birthday celebration.

He might not ever get to be an actor, but he’d always had a passion for acting. Is it any wonder? When he’s playing a part, he can shed the skin of a no-named nobody from somewhere so remote no one thinks it's a real place, and he can be someone with a name standing on center stage.

Roman breathes out so heavily that he almost misses Remus’s quick response.

“I already attempted to swan dive off the roof into a spoon today,” his twin says, flippantly. “Bruised my eye and split my lip and probably broke my collar bone.”

“Wait, what—” 

“Later, Prince Charmless.”

“Remus, you did what?!”

But by then he’s talking to the end call screen on his phone, staring into the picture of the flaming dumpster that he used as a profile picture for his idiot brother, with his heart racing. Logically, he knows that Remus is joking.

Probably.

Uh, maybe? 

Roman suddenly remembers a lot of leaping off the backyard shed until Dad came out screaming at them red in the face with worry, followed by tag games that ended with a leap through a window wrong and three hours worth of sitting still to get the glass shards pulled out of his arms, and then racing through the upstairs hall to jump the stair railing into the strategically placed hand mirror to make it to school on time.

In all honesty, Roman bets that Remus did try it, as part of a morning routine that their parents hadn’t been able to beg out of him. One would think the first time the jagged edges of a break had shredded his skin, Remus would have learned to be more careful, but somehow it seemed that Remus had fallen in love with webbed cracks in his mirror.

Roman sighs, placing his phone into his pocket. And then he presses the elevator button and leans against the wall next to the panel to take off his shoe and look for that stupid rock again. 

His keys jangle in his other hand, annoyingly loud in the otherwise still entrance alcove. It’s times like these that he can appreciate that most of his neighbors dislike the other people in the building and therefore make extra effort to not be caught outside.

The only person Roman really ever has to worry about is the guy on the third floor who he thinks might be a weed dealer and is constantly hinting at giving Roman a first time discount. Great guy, really! He just always manages to catch Roman right next to a reflective surface. It’s pure coincidence that he hasn’t noticed yet.

The elevator dings and the doors roll open with a gentle rumble that does not betray any of the unreliability of its innerworkings. Every other week it’s out of order and Roman’s pretty sure at least 80% of the building has complained to the owners about it, but the solutions never last more than another few days.

Roman doesn’t even usually take the elevator! But the walk was long, and he lives on the top floor, and serial arsonists aren’t going to set fire to his apartment building in the two minutes it will take to get to his floor. 

It’s fine.

Roman slides on his shoe and hobbles into the elevator, breathing in the musty stench that smells like it’s coming from the corpses that might be buried under the building. Part of Roman entertains the idea that ghosts haunt only the elevator, sadly floating around and gaining their small enjoyments from watching people get stuck in between floors when it inevitably breaks.

Roman hasn’t done anything to annoy the spirits recently, at least to his knowledge, so he should be okay. 

He leans back against the railing just in case though.

It takes another long moment for the elevators to start closing again; definitely long enough that Roman gets the impression that he shouldn’t have gotten on at all. The longer it stays open the more likely it is for someone else to suddenly show up and want to get on as well. There are only about three things Roman can think of that are worse than being in an enclosed space, with a stranger, while his compact mirror is MIA. 

Last time something like that happened, the other person got agitated enough that Roman had seriously thought they were going to attack him. Roman knows he’s unsettling to be around; it’s not simple to catch what is off about him at first, but most human brains can pick up that something is distinctly wrong. Knowing something’s wrong with a situation, but not being sure what and being trapped in a small compartment without a sure way to defend yourself? Yeah that’s a recipe for disaster. 

Across the alcove, the door to the stairwell opens just in time for Roman’s heart to leap right into his throat: his brain screaming that oh hey! People to join you inside your small box that Remus just told you not to get into! Even when it wouldn’t make any sense to go down the stairs just to take the elevator back up.

There’s three of them, all dressed in the very uniform pest control jumpsuits that make Roman’s insides shrivel slightly. He’d been meticulous about keeping his apartment clean and if he saw a single cockroach, Roman would be turning into the next arsonist, no other incitations required.

They’re all carrying various equipment items: a thick duffle back with the pest control logo (an ant ironically burning under a magnifying glass), a bulky backpack that nearly doesn’t fit through the doorway, and a thick leather briefcase that seems out of place. The first guy is saying something in a language Roman doesn’t recognize, with a smile on his face that is very charming, despite him being at least a decade older than Roman, as he holds the door open for the others. The second rolls her eyes, tugging the brim of her hat lower over her head.

The third has a scar from running from the middle of his left cheek all the way down his face to his neck in a way that barely seems more than a few months healed. When he makes direct eye contact with Roman, the man’s thin lips twisting into a grin, like he knows how fast Roman’s heart is beating at the sight of him. He waves and Roman catches sight of a cheap industrial bike lock in his other hand.

Please please please, don’t suddenly realize that needs to go back upstairs, please don’t get in here, pleasedonotcomecloser—

But in the end the doors close fitfully, locking out that man and his smile and his friends, and Roman sags against the railing. He presses a hand to his chest trying to regulate his panicked heartbeast back to something manageable and sustainable. 

Say what you will about Remus, but he knows best how to make Roman paranoid for the rest of the day.

The gears shudder, and the mechanical whirl of the elevator fills the whole area as it begins its ascent. Roman pulls out his phone again, swiping through the notifications that he accrued during the walk. A few responses to his Snap Chats streaks, three emails (two junk and one from a classmate asking about studying together for the test, which would be great, if Roman hadn’t already turned her down twice), a reminder to play one of his mindless phone games, and something must have happened in the group chat he has on instagram with a few other Math majors. Roman double taps the notification and swipes in his passcode (it’s an R, it’s always been an R. Remus has been able to hack into his phone since they were eleven, but Roman is horribly, secretly afraid that if he changes it now, he’ll forget it by tomorrow). 

The elevator shudders. 

And somewhere, distantly, Roman thinks he smells smoke.

[Next Chapter? Find it on Ao3 now!]

[pinkcreamypeach]

Murder Drones finale review

The animation in this finale is a visual feast for the eyes. The fighting choreography, the way the characters move, speak and fight - it's all a masterpiece. Cynessa's animations in particular were breathtaking. The way she moves, the way she talks, and the way she fights - it all adds up to an experience worth watching over and over again. Even her walking animation is a joy to behold.And who could forget the fight between Uzi and Cyn? It was the highlight of the finale for me. I must have rewatched it 10 times already. Not to mention the fight between V and J, which was equally amazing. These characters have become my favorite ones in the show, and I wish we could have more scenes with them that are not fight scenes.In addition to the incredible animation, the sound effects and character animations are top-notch. The color scheme, lighting, and scene design in this finale were gorgeous, making it an enjoyable and vibrant experience from start to finish. The team behind this show deserves a standing applause for their impressive work.

The mostly negative long rant

(Below)

The characterization for J in the episode where she has the most screen time is still quite lacking. She is seen with the villain, knowing the whole plan, as if she was the closest to Tessa, so it's unclear why she is so chill with Cyn, who literally skinned her friend and used her corpse. Is J meant to be that way, or was the writing for her character simply not up to par? It's unclear.

V coming back is a great moment, and her fighting is a good addition to the episode. However, it's still a bit disappointing that she barely talked with N, despite clearly having a bond. It would have been nice to see them have a one-on-one conversation about anything, especially given N's panic attack.Lizzy, Thad, and Khan, who barely occupied any screen time and did not have much to do in the episode, could have been cut from the episode altogether. The anticipated fight between them and J seemed to have happened off-screen, which was a missed opportunity to see them in action and fully utilize their potential.

It's also uncertain whether Khan ever discovered Nori's identity after she stole the heart from J. A further issue is what will happen to Khan after she leaves the planet. Additionally, there is no confirmation on whether it was N who killed Nori or not, which would have a significant impact on Khan and Nori's reaction to Nori and N dating.Regarding the Solver's goal, it appears to be to destroy, but it's unclear exactly how. How does Uzi eating the soul (?) of Cyn separate her from the solver completely?In regards to Uzi defeating Cynessa, the way she did it feels somewhat underwhelming, as she was able to predict where she would land but the countless bullets, blasts and sharp weapons barely did anything. Furthermore, her power levels seem to fluctuate when the plot demands it, which only adds to the confusion.

They could have fixed a lot of this by adding at least 5 to 10 minutes more. More interactions and lore dumps could have been added and the fight could have remained most of the episode, but there was so much more to be done. Additionally, J's motivations needed to be expanded, and the ending was too happy and abrupt.I have massive respect for Glitch, Liam, and everyone who worked on Murder Drones. I still love the series, and I believe I always will. However, this episode was just a big action scene with a sudden and abrupt conclusion. I truly don't understand how this was approved in the writing room.Despite my many negative comments and critiques, this finale isn't the worst I've seen. It's not mid, but I can't quite put my finger on why it falls short. It's a mixed bag of emotions for me. On one hand, I'm glad everyone had a happy ending, but I'm deeply disappointed with how the show ended. Seeing Doll's dead body made me feel both sad and a little bit amused. I wish we had more backstory on Doll, Yeva, and Nori. I'm dying to know how Khan met his wife and how Doll's parents met each other.There are a lot of unanswered questions and rushed things in this finale, which makes it disappointing for me. Still, the show isn't bad. I'm glad I watched Murder Drones, and I'll definitely miss it. Thank you to Glitch Productions, Liam Vickers, and everyone who worked on the show for bringing the series to life. I apologize for the lengthy rant.

(Anyways Cyn/cynessa Gifs I found)

[lemonbooties]

2. Blood Oath | Choso ੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

by lemonbooties

Find my work on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev here!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Chapter 2: Mourning

It takes about five minutes of silence for your thoughts to begin eating at you. The reality of your situation started to sink in, giving you the opportunity to spend the long car ride wallowing in your own self-pity. As much as it made you want to scream, you had already accepted that your parents were dead. You tried to push down the nausea building in the pit of your stomach as your mind is racing. Your whole body was numb and prickly, wrecked with guilt over the whole situation.

You had been distracted when your parents were attacked, if you hadn’t been, could you have saved them or would you have faced the same fate? The thought played on repeat in your mind.

You finally decided on the latter. After all, if you did confront the blue haired man, your insides would likely be plastered on your living room wall with your parents’. You certainly couldn’t have fought him. But could you really live without your family? Sure, you guys fought over trivial matters but that was a given with strict parents. You wondered if you could live with this guilt, blaming yourself for your parents’ end.

The car ride went by agonizingly slow. Paralyzed by your thoughts, you couldn’t even enjoy the scenery whisking by. Your stomach rumbled but you knew for a fact you couldn’t eat. Your stomach did flips at the thought of food causing you to scrunch yourself into your seat as much as you could, longing for any sort of pressure that could ease your upset stomach.

Almost as if he knew what was going on, Yaga paused before saying, “I know you’re probably not hungry but we need you to eat.” He held up a signal and the driver of the car pulled off onto a side road. You glared at the man. The man who has all the answers you were looking for yet, he was withholding them. You decided not to say anything, not knowing for sure if he was an ally or enemy. It would be better not to upset him.

You sat in your seat brooding as the driver maneuvered throughout the town you were in before stopping in front of a convenience store. Yaga asked you to come in but you stayed put, crossing your arms in protest. Sighing, he went inside anyway, without you, and emerged after a few minutes with a bulging tote bag. He reentered the car and got situated before rummaging through the bag and handing you a steamed bun.

Your stomach rumbled, followed by a wave a nausea. The bun in your hand was warm, heating you up, even if just for a minute. The numb needle sensation in your hands subsided as you gripped the package. You thought you couldn’t eat but when the scent hit your nose, you were ravenous. Tearing open the packaging, you bit down quickly. When the bun was suddenly gone, you found yourself disappointed but the warmth of the food spread throughout your gut, sending a shiver throughout your body.

You heard the crinkle of another package and looked over to see Yaga offering you another bun. You gladly accepted, taking your time and savoring it. With some food in your stomach, the nausea subsided. After eating, you felt slightly better but your mind was still pretty foggy. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep again until you were being shaken awake.

This time, it was not Yaga that greeted you but the driver. Standing in the opening of the car door, his face peered in at you as he announced your arrival to Yaga’s school. You hadnt been able to get a good look at the driver in the car but when he stepped back from the space next to the open car door, you were able to finally able to get a peek. His suit hung limply off his thin frame, which was reflected in his face and sunken cheekbones. He had dark hair parted down the middle and you would’ve thought he was pretty nerdy if he was your age with those glasses.

He smiled hesitantly at you, almost as if it was unnatural to him. He looked nervous and you could’ve sworn you saw a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. You managed a weak smile back as you sat up again. You panicked as you quickly realized your phone was missing. The driver jolted and exclaimed a quick acknowledgement of your confusion. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out your phone and handed it to you.

“When you fell asleep last night, you were clutching your phone so tightly that we couldn’t get it out of your hands but you left it on the seat earlier and we were able to charge it for you.” He bowed his head slightly as he handed it to you, which you returned. “Thank you, uh-“ “Ijichi.” He chimed in. “Kiyotaka.” You nodded in response before looking down at your phone.

Your display blinked to life, a picture of you, Yuji and Choso greeting you. You had all been at the park near your house, which you had still occasionally visited on weekends even though you had long outgrown the playground. This particular day was Yuji’s 15th birthday. It was particularly warm for March so you all had decided to have a picnic in the park. You wanted to smile but you broke at the thought that you may never get to celebrate birthdays with them anymore.

You longed for a shred of normalcy or the joy of your childhood but you remembered last night and the pit in your stomach returned. You missed your family, you missed your room and you missed your friends. Would they know what happened or would you just disappear from their life? The thought was unbearable.

Swinging your legs out of the car, you stood shakily and caught sight of Yaga at the back of the car hauling what looked like your stuff. Upon catching a glimpse of your childhood suitcase donned with stickers and poorly-applied glitter, you were sure it was all of you stuff. Your entire life in a child’s suitcase.

Ijichi stayed close to you, probably scared that you wouldn’t be able to stand again. You waited patiently as Yaga and Ijichi gathered your things before leading you onto the school’s campus.

You were amazed at the architecture of the buildings. It was so unique compared to any other school, at least ones you had seen in and around Sendai City. You didn’t see much activity down the walkway, leading you to believe that either class was in session or the student population and staff were few and far between. You struggled a bit to keep up with Yaga and Ijichi but managed anyway.

You soon arrived at one of the buildings. The exterior of the building had many windows surrounded by a dark wood. With matching architecture to the surrounding buildings, you were just as clueless to this buildings purpose as you were to the others. Yaga ushered you inside where you were met with a hallway with many doors before he began explaining some housekeeping rules, general rules and security measures in place before stopping in front of one of the doors.

“This will be where you’ll be staying, L/N. You can decorate the room however you want, within reason. We don’t have many students so we placed you near the other ladies but if you’d rather be a bit aways, let Ijichi know and we can make arrangements. If you end up staying in this room, just be mindful of your neighbors.” He opened the door in front of you, allowing you to see the contents of your room.

There was small entry, a counter lined the left wall and had a sink and a small electric stovetop. To the right, there was a sliding door leading to presumably a bathroom. Further into the room, you could catch a glimpse of a bed and large window but not much else. You walked in and saw there was also a desk, side table and dresser. The men followed and placed your belongings inside.

“Thank you.” You said while lowering your head slightly. They both acknowledged your gratitude. Yaga explained he needed to attend to the school business and that since Ijichi is the manager of the school, that he would also be leaving. He suggested unpacking and placed a consoling hand on your shoulder before leaving along with Ijichi.

Once they were gone, you flopped on your new bed. You were thankful for shelter but this room didn’t compare to your home at all. It lacked your spark, the life you brought to your room over the course of the last 16 years. You stretched on the bed, your muscles relieved to be relaxed after such a long car ride.

You stood. Thanks to the food from earlier, you felt a bit more grounded than you had felt earlier in the day. You looked at your suitcase and the other bags filled with the belongings Yaga thought you would like to bring along. You wondered how he decided what to bring and what to leave. Did he leave anything important?

Curiosity got the best of you and you walked over to the small gathering of your things and decided to start with the other bags first. The first duffel bag contained clothes, which you promptly threw to the side. You wanted to wash them first, rid them of last night’s events before you had to feel their sensation on your body again. You shivered at the thought, trying hard not to remember the sound your father made when he-

You shook your head, desperately attempting to stop thinking about it. How could you though? Distractions. That’s how. You grabbed the second bag, a duffel bag you used to use for overnight stays. The contents of this bag were a little more mixed. You found your toiletries, which you placed in the bathroom. Next was your notebooks. You used them to pretty much scribble in and found it interesting that Yaga chose to pack them. On the desk they go.

At the bottom of the bag, you lingered on a photo frame. The frame held three pictures. The first on the left was from one of your birthdays. You and Yuji sat at the your family’s table, eyeing a huge cake that had eleven candles on it. You remember he got so sick after eating three slices of cake that night that he had to miss class for a whole week. His grandfather was really mad at your dad for allowing him to eat that much cake. You had been in the same class then and you blabbed to everyone about what happened. When Yuji returned, everyone teased him about it but he just laughed with them.

The middle frame was Choso, Yuji and yourself. You were too young to remember when the picture was taken but you couldn’t have been older than three. You were at the park, specifically the sandbox. You were wearing a bright yellow bucket hat with a matching shirt and jean overalls. You proudly held up a bucket and shovel, smiling widely. Next to you, on either side, were Yuji and Choso. They wore opposite outfits, Yuji in jean shorts and a light tan shirt on your right and Choso in a blue shirt with tan pants to your left. Yuji was filling up another bucket with sand and Choso was watching him. Sitting in front of you three was a poorly built sand castle that looked to be collapsing as the photo was taken.

The last photo on the right was you and your parents at your junior high graduation, just a few months ago. Seeing them now, you were extremely aware of how tired they looked. Their faces were slightly more wrinkly than you remembered, worn down by the years they had lived, weathered by years of love for one another and the life they created. The life you thought they lived…

Their hands rested on each of your shoulders, sweet smiles on both of their faces. Your mom was leaning forward with one hand on your shoulder and one across your back, although your body hid it. She had squeezed you tighter then than she had in years. Your father looked a bit more stiff but still had his hand on your shoulder. He was always more uptight about pictures. You were right in the center of them both, smiling brightly while clutching the tube that contained your certificate.

Yuji had graduated alongside you so Choso was there as well. He had taken the picture while Yuji had been busy taking a picture with a girl from his class. Choso and Yuji had gifted you a small bouquet as a gift, as did your parents, which were tucked in your elbows. You hadn’t known they were gifting you anything so you later bought some stationary and a small cake as thanks.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until one of the teardrops landed on the picture, slightly warping the picture underneath the glass. Staring at it blankly until the tears blurred your vision and then, you just let it all out.

All of the pain of the last day hit like a truck. You wept, wept until your breathing became labored. You leaned forward and clutched the frame to your chest, crying so hard your chest began to ache. You thought of your friends, your parents and mourned the loss of your normal life. Where did you go from here? You didn’t even know what a jujutsu sorcerer is or why you’d been roped into all this. Why were you at a high school? Who is Masamichi Yaga and why did he bring you here? What was your father hiding?

You heard a yell from outside your room. You were slightly relieved that there were other people in the dorms and all of this wasn’t some giant facade. There were actually other students here. You couldn’t make out the word that was said but soon, you heard a murmur of other voices. You stood, walking towards the entrance to your room. As you grew closer, the words started to form and your heard a male voice a reprimanding “be more positive” and a “what a pain” in response.

Opening the door and looking out, you were greeted by the backsides of three males and when they turned to look at you, you almost broke down again seeing Yuji staring right at you alongside two others you didn’t recognize.

“Yuji.” You breathed out, almost a whisper, not believing he was here. Everything slowed as you ran to him. Wrapping your arms around him, you were surrounded by his scent, his warmth and his voice as he asked a question.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

I wanted readers who are following along to know that I post updates on when chapters will be coming out and other story related things on my Twitter (X). This week, there will also be a poll related to a plot point in the next few chapters so if you’d like to influence the writing, definitely cast a vote. The poll will be out right after this is published and will be pinned at the top of my Twitter page! You can find me by the same username, @lemonbooties!

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[arcplaysgames]

AWAY WE GOOOOO ROAD TRIP

But not before a check in with our buddy Chaz

OH OKAY SO YOUR BOSS IS AWARE YOU ARE HANGING WITH THE PHANTOM THIEVES. Cozying up to the Thieves was apparently Chaz's explicit mission.

Chaz, please don't betray me. I mean, I would forgive you because you're awesome and frankly betrayal is not even remotely the worst thing to happen to me in any of these games, but still. Would be uncool of you.

Honestly, I'm cool with it.

STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES, THERE IS A COOKING MINIGAME ASPECT TO THIS?

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING MENU, JOKER'S KITCHEN

oh my god. this game is already better than P5V, there is no more room for debate. we are there.

The first stop in the journey is Sendai, because Sophia smells a Jail nearby. So basically, accounting for the fact they stopped by a river to have lunch, this is probably the route they took.

Outside Utsunomiya is the Kinugawa River, which looks like the most likely option for them to stop at.

This was the moment when I dared to ask myself....... did they..... create and design and render multiple Japanese cities for this game? Not just, like, a few huge hub towns on the scale of Tokyo, but a lot of smaller environments to explore?

oh my god they did????? holy shit this is exactly what I wanted.

Okay okay so the team is in Sendai because potential Jail, but also Haru wants to try beef tongue and Yusuke wants to look at the shrine and statues.

The big statue of Date Masamune is covered in posters advertizing some reprint of a book. Not the twentieth anniversary, but the twentieth reissue of a book. Which, wow, that is a lot. That feels like a lot of reissues.

Before we can investigate more of what's up with the posters, the whole gang needs to eat.

Morgana is CRUELLY shoved into the bag so he may not partake in the beef tongue, so he's noisy about it and some Woman In Labcoat overhears and catches us out.

My god, is this lady related to Akechi because she is BEEEEEEIGE. She is like if dishwater blonde hair was a person, it's amazing. Like, no tea no shade, it just stands out.

Ann you are such a dogshit liar, it's kind of a relief you didn't go into acting, holy shit.

In this house we never resist an opportunity to have Reverie Vantas the Fifth meow. Catboy rights.

Alright, one: that's.... actually accurate to my understanding of the use of collagen as a supplement, that ingestion is too harsh of the molecules or whatever so the idea they will make it back into your body as collagen and not just the parts of what was once collagen is true to my knowledge. Most of the studies to the contrary seeeeem a little suspect given the beauty industry's inherent interest in making collagen into a profitable business.

Two, "cognition" huh.

Brown-haired researcher in a labcoat talking about cognition, huh.

anyone looking at Reverie and picking up on an "air of innocence" is, ah, lacking in observational skills. Your vibe check has failed, ma'am.

A BROWN-HAIRED RESEARCHER IN A LABCOAT TALKING ABOUT COGNITION WHO ALSO HANDS OUT TREATS WITHOUT PROVOCATION.

OOOOOOOH BEIGE ALERT. Cannot be trusted!

wtf image limit

[pixibunn]

🌸Ayaka- a night in ritou🌸

❗️key facts❗️

• reader is gender neutral

• bold is read as thoughts

• lowercase writing is intended

Ayaka POV:

many don't know this, but it has always been hard for me to be an open person. ever since i was given the title Shirasagi Himegimi, the townspeople of inazuma city stare and bow to show their respect to me. i do appreciated all they do and all the respect they show me, but sometimes it makes me uncomfortable.

as most people know, thoma and my brother are the only close family members i have. even though thoma is not part of my biological family, ayato and i love him dearly. I know my brother loves him, and i tease him all the time for it.

when i met (y/n), my whole life changed. they mean everything to me, and had even helped me take down the vision hunt decree. i owe my whole life to (y/n), and would do anything for them. i always believed that i thought of (y/n) as nothing more as a friend, but ayato and even thoma helped me realize that i was wrong.

as i continued walking down the street of inazuma city, i bumped into someone and completely lost my balance, dropping my sensu (a sensu is a traditional japanese fan) and some of the bags i had in my hands.

"oh my goodness, ayaka i am so so sorry, i really didn't mean to! i was rushing and-"

"oh please (y/n) it's quite alright, no need for apologies." i say to them as i take their hand and grab my bags and my sensu. as i picked up the sensu, i had noticed that it had a few tears and rips in the sides, and was no longer useable.

"it appears my sensu has broken." i whispered.

(y/n) whipped their head in my direction and started shaking their head and grabbed my hands.

"ayaka did i do that?? oh no no no this is really bad..." (y/n) started talking to themselves as i tried to hide the blush that was forming on my cheeks from them holding my hand.

"wait, i have an idea!" (y/n) says while giving my hands a squeeze.

"an idea, whatever could you possibly mean?" i ask them with confusion written all over my face.

"depends, i know you're a very busy person miss Shirasagi Himegimi-"

"i told you not to call me that (y/n), it's too formal, and we're good friends. it's almost inappropriate." i say to them.

"ah i know, i just enjoy teasing you." they say with a slight chuckle.

i blush again, and tell them to continue.

"anyways, if you have some time, perhaps i can help find you a new sensu you'll enjoy, one from me personally! what do you say? wanna go with me?" they ask while holding out their hand.

i think for a moment, i might as well, i have nothing to do tonight and i would never pass up an opportunity to hangout with (y/n).

"of course, i'd love to"

~time skip~

as (y/n) and i are walking through the pathways in ritou, i see a food stand next to the tree in the center of the town. (y/n) must have noticed my happy expression, as they guided us towards the stand.

they must have remembered how much i love sakura mochi.

"first order of business, getting something to eat! cant shop on an empty stomach." (y/n) says as they paid the women tending the stand.

"oh (y/n) you really didn't have to-"

(y/n) interrupted me with a finger to my lips, and handed me a plate of sakura mochi.

"don't mention it ayaka, i'm just happy we get to hangout again! it's been ages, and i love being with you- i-i mean hanging out." (y/n) laughed and started scratching their head out of embarrassment.

i blushed and thanked them for the snack.

"wow this is amazing, i haven't tasted mochi this yummy in ages, just shows how often i get out of the estate." i say to (y/n) as we throw out our paper plates and continue our walk through ritou.

"i agree, it was super yummy, i'm surprised you haven't had mochi in awhile, it's your favorite food, and you always sneak out of your room at night to get snacks, i was certain mochi was something you had often." (y/n) says while poking my cheek.

"hey! that's- that's just something i do sometimes, not every night.." i say while slowly trailing off, and pouting in (y/n)'s direction.

the sun is slowly setting, ayaka and (y/n) finally made it to their destination.

"here we are, pick out any one you'd like, it's on me." (y/n) smiled at me and ushered me to continue inside the shop.

"wow these are all so beautiful, i do not know which one to chose." i was shocked at how amazing all the sensu's looked all neatly in rows displayed perfectly.

one in the middle row particularly caught my eye, it was light and dark blue with gold accents decorating the bottom near the base.

(y/n) came close to me and picked up the fan.

"seems this one has caught your eye miss Shirasagi Himegimi, i must say, it really compliments your outfit." says (y/n) with a silly smile on their face, and passed me the sensu.

"yes, i do believe i have made a decision, i love this one, and can't wait to use it." i say with a smile. i bring the sensu to the counter and (y/n) paid for it.

"thank you (y/n), this really is a beautiful gift. i cannot thank you enough." i said to them as they grab my hand and lead us through ritou back to the kamisato estate. "not as beautiful as you." (y/n) says with a smile on their face.

as the two get back to the kamisato estate, they are greeted by thoma at the door. "hey you two, (y/n) didn't expect to see you here, how have you been?" says thoma as he opens the door for the pair. "i've been great, is ayato home?" (y/n) says after helping me place my bags on the table.

"no unfortunately, he's away currently. it was an urgent appointment with the Yashiro Commission, so he left this afternoon." thoma explains to us.

"i see, i was unaware there was a meeting with the Yashiro Commission today, my apologies, i was unable to attend." i say while talking my new sensu out of the bag.

"sorry for cutting this visit short thoma, but unfortunately i gotta get going, i'm helping itto host another one of his events again tomorrow." (y/n) says while sighing. "we understand, good luck (y/n), see you soon!" thoma says while waving goodbye to them.

"hey (y/n), wait up!" i say while closing the doors to the estate behind me.

"thank you again for the amazing night, i cannot thank you enough. it was truly a night to remember." i say to them while getting on my tip toes and giving them a quick kiss on the cheek.

(y/n) starts blushing and then giggles.

"of course ayaka, dont worry, i'll come back and visit again. then you can treat me to something!" they say while laughing again.

"of course, i cant wait. safe travels (y/n)! i'll miss you." i say while giving them a big hug goodbye.

(y/n) waves goodbye and disappears down the path into chinju forest.

~ word count: 1271 ~

thanks again guys for reading my first oneshot on this account, i hope you enjoyed it!

have a great day/night!

-pixi

[fumikomiyasaki]

🌆for whomever you think would take Tidus out on the town OwO

How about one date?

I mean we had Tidus and Carol established so that.

A deep breath escaped Carol as she clinged onto her book... she made up her mind if she does want to pursue her crushes she had to take the intiative... and given she finally made up her mind she only needed the courage to approach the situation... and so she waited for the Octavinelle lounge to thin out on customers and approached Tidus afterwards. Twirling her hair a little nervous and pursing her lips.

"Say do you have something to do on the weekend?"

"No actually... why do you ask?"

"Would you maybe accompany me to the cinema, there was this cultural movie I wanted to check out... maybe grab something to eat after..."

"And you ask me for this? I feel there is far better people to ask-"

"No... I want it to be you... I actually liked you for a long while... and I wanted to bridge the gap and maybe ask you out directly."

His face had a light blush and a face of disbelieve as the tutor put her hand on his. It was surprising to say the least given how many at the school were after her and wanted to ask her out but she rejected them. But still he gave a small nod.

"I would like that actually... on saturdays?"

"Sure... take my number I text you the details."

With a wink she may turned around but she herself was nervous the whole time but let out a sigh in relief after this.

On Saturdays she stood there... Lyla helped her pick out a pretty seafoam green dress with a lily in her hair... clinging onto her bag waiting a little as he showed up... seeing her smile up at him.

"Did you wait long?"

"Not at all... Its good to see you."

Her smile was bright, putting an arm around him which instantly go him a little nervous... but in a good way... as the two of them waited in the line chatting a little.

"Did you pick this movie for me or-"

"Don't worry about it... I didn't see it as well and I love any opportunity to learn something... but also I thought its been a while since I was in the cinema so."

"I still can't really believe it... that you had a crush on me..."

She blushed a little but leaned against his arm.

"You were always so nice to me, a good break between my tutoring... someone that listened to me."

"And you didn't find me intimidating or..."

She shook her head with a smile.

"Maybe its even something I find attractive... no matter the looks... if you are a sweet and good person... it will get me attached... but.. I did find you have something cute and handsome about you... "

Eventually he looked away letting out a little thank you cause he was embarassed about it as she let out a warm smile.

"Lets enjoy this date casually... maybe you will understand why I asked you in particular out."

They took their popcorn and drinks into the halls... sharing some accidentally touching hands which Carol didn't mind at all... eventually leaning back and enjoying the movie... before afterwards hitting up a restaurant of Carols choice.... as they both sit down excited chatting about the movie.

"I didn't expect it to be that in detail... I loved it... it was a good choice of yours."

"Hehe... I just guessed but I guess I was right."

Eventually as they both waited for the food she scooted a little closer to him and looked up as he still looked a little embarassed.

"I don't mind if you take time to understand my feelings for you... but do know I was serious about this date."

"Its just still a little hard to believe cause-"

She put a hand on his and let out a calm breath.

"We can take it calmer... I don't mind you making your decision up now... but know I will always have these feelings for you and care for you, Tidus. "

"No... I did actually enjoy this date with you I am just a little worried about you given you already get bothered enough... let me stay close to you and protect you were I can."

"That is sweet but... against some of them it be impossible... you seen the annoying reaper I have to deal with."

For once he took both her hands and smiled at her.

"Then this is now our problem, alright."

"Tidus... thank you. "

She instinctively accidentally hugged him... before noticing how he nearly passed out from it and moving away.

"S-sorry... but... I am happy... very happy to have you close."

[frodothefair]

꧁ The Flowers of Mordor ꧂

Chapter 7 - The Lockholes

READ ALL ON AO3

SUMMARY : Sam knows he cannot tear himself in two, but Frodo's struggles after the quest are worsening. Marigold Gamgee gets a job at Bag End, and grows close to its enigmatic master. J. R. R. Tolkien meets Jane Austen meets Tess of the D'Urbervilles. CHAPTER SUMMARY : Frodo learns about Marigold's time in the Lockholes. PAIRING : Frodo/Marigold Gamgee, Frodo/Sam secondary GENRES : hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn romance, slice of life, girl next door WARNINGS : PTSD, depression, panic attacks, eating disorder, eventual spicy scenes RATING : M

Frodo thought back to that day in November – after the battle of Bywater, when the hobbits imprisoned by Saruman and Lotho had been freed. Marigold had been among them, and she had looked, as expected, very bedraggled – her hair matted, her features smeared with dirt, having lost much of her buxomness. But she had also staggered out propping up another hobbit, and while Sam had wept like a child when the two were reunited, she had also been the one to wipe away his tears, and to ask almost immediately who had been hurt and what help was needed.

They started to read every day, poetry mostly, putting it to song and copying it over into the new leather-bound notebook Marigold had started for the purpose. She was amazed to learn just how much Bilbo wrote, and dismayed to hear that he did not think highly of his own poetry. Sam walked in on them several times, once as Marigold intoned in her diffident, unpolished voice, “Past eyes of pale fire, black sand for my bed, I trade all I've known for the unknown ahead” (1) – and remarked with a laugh that he thought Frodo was teaching her spelling, not singing. Soon, Frodo was looking forward to their lessons each day – a brighter spot on an otherwise dreary canvas. He enjoyed putting his mind to work understanding how her mind worked – differently, to be sure, but not necessarily slower. It was rather that she had more to sift through with any given task, and saw words and texts as parts rather than wholes, which did hold her back at times, but also provided opportunities. And she was a maximalist, too, in all respects. When she found out there could be different meanings to words and poems, she tried to come up with as many as she could.

In the evenings, their conversations were full of “what if” and “how about.” And soon, by the time they had jokingly agreed to disagree whether a composition was about dragons, or garden snakes, or perhaps birthday parties, Frodo would be too spent to reach for his customary cup of New Winyard.

One might have thought foregoing his nightcap would have hurt his sleep – but the first night was not just his imagination. He still could not sleep deeply, and the nights still piled insults on top of injuries – but he was now acutely aware that he was only waking up three or four times each night, and this was quite a bit better than five, or six, or even twelve.

In his younger years, of course, Frodo had enjoyed sleep almost as much as any hobbit enjoyed food. Come what may, it was a respite he could always count on, going back to his days as a young, orphaned lad at Brandy Hall.

Before he and Sam left the Shire, too, he had enjoyed long, beautiful dreams, and was known for a curious ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere – even in the company of friends when the conversation dragged and no one spoke to him in particular. (He still opened his eyes straight away when addressed, of course, which saved him from accusations of rudeness.) This ability served him well early on in the quest – even as Sam complained of the hard ground and painful twigs in his back, all Frodo had to do was close his eyes, imagine being in bed at home, and drift off to sleep. 

But soon the Ring took hold, calling out to him at night and making it preferable – sweet, even – to stay awake. He would sit up all night watching it, even as his body ached and his mind was so tired he could barely tell what was real. And the dreams! When they did come, they continued long and vivid, but the beauty was gone; there was only terror and pain. He dreamt of dark shadows, tall figures with swords, losing the Ring, and always something seeking – relentlessly seeking him in a darkness where he lay, naked and afraid.

His sleep never really returned. He could lie in the softest bed in Gondor or in the Shire, and still it eluded him. If he slept, it was in hour-long spurts that he started out of, groping for the Ring in the sheets, drenched in sweat like he had been running. In Gondor, the healers gave him draughts that put him in a dreamless haze, but that came at a cost – he felt dizzy and drugged in the morning, and got headaches that lingered long into the day.

Even now, fatigue as heavy as boulders was not enough to overpower the fear that had taken hold in his bones, and that ripped him out of his sleep, surely and methodically as the cruelest executioner.

No – given the sad state of affairs, it would take more than a bright, lively lass, more than engaging conversation, and more than the lavender milk, honey-infused and gently warmed, to bring him peace. But somehow, while his mind was on her and on their studies, his fear of the night did lessen. He wondered how he had never truly noticed her before – she was always Sam’s sweet, unassuming little sister – and yet it was sad to think that such a gem could have languished so long unheeded at Bagshot Row.

If he had to explain why he had not noticed her, it was perhaps that he had started to feel… thin was maybe the word, and it had started quite soon after Bilbo’s departure. He had begun to feel restless, too, and was loth to put down roots, so he stopped associating much with lasses, and did not have the wherewithal – nor indeed the desire – to add to his inner circle.

But now, he found himself wondering why she had quit midwifery – a subject he had not given thought to much before. And he wondered if he ought to do some writing of his own, and to add to Bilbo’s account of the War of the Ring – for even though revisiting some of the particulars still filled him with dread, he was inclined to think that in addition to his friends, there was at least one other who might like to read it: for the more they delved into the epic and the legendary poetry, the more questions Marigold had about what caused what, and who was related to whom, and she even asked if he and Bilbo had made family trees for the elves and the dwarves after the hobbit fashion. She even asked if she could see some of his uncle’s wrinkled old maps.

To say that Marigold liked their lessons would not have been doing it justice. She chided herself for it, but now and again she actually found herself rushing through her work so they could start sooner. She did not only like sitting close to Mr. Frodo – though who would not? Though visibly older and more tired, with new wrinkles framing his eyes and mouth and a thinner, more angular countenance, he was still so handsome that no lass would have been immune. And he smelled nice, too: no longer of pipe weed, for he had done what no other hobbit had done before him and inexplicably quit, but of clean clothes and clean skin – of his own warm, musky scent like cinnamon and cloves, but also – she knew it now, the enigmatic fragrance she’d sensed all those years ago: of books with leather bindings.

She also liked to see him trace the letters, which he did skillfully and with elegant ease, even though he was missing a finger. In fact, watching him do so was still more fascinating for the lack. 

But no, she didn’t just like sitting next to Mr. Frodo, or listening to Mr. Frodo, or watching Mr. Frodo – with whom, whatever her past embarrassing feelings, she felt unashamed to be herself.

She was starting to like reading. It felt less like chewing rocks, or banging her head against a wall. Approaching the material from different angles – speaking, singing, writing, discussing, putting words into categories – it all made it easier to remember and to understand. 

But it was still hard going. And a number of difficulties remained. 

For one, even with the use of a bookmark, her eyes still liked to jump from line to line on their own accord, and if she read too long the lines would start to shake, and she got tired far sooner than she would a year ago – when she was still training under Mrs. Bracegirdle and would revisit her books from time to time.

And she would also get headaches. Headaches that cut down her time with reading and with Mr. Frodo.

One such headache came when they were poring over a poem about a dwarf named Durin, another one of Bilbo’s recordings from his time with the company of fourteen. Marigold was imagining the bright din of hammers, the stately halls and the ponderous columns encrusted with runes. Frodo had drawn her a picture of the Mines of Moria, complete with how small people looked beside the great pillars of stone. Outside, the late summer sun was not yet waning, and through the curtain she could see the outline of apple tree branches, rocking in the breeze. The branches were heavy with fruit – a sight, sadly, that Durin and his folk would rarely see, spending much of their lives underground.

Did they ever get despondent, living so long without the sun?

A pain had begun to form behind her eyes, and the words were starting to dance, so she had hoped to keep it at bay by looking at the distance.

Not so.

In fact, she ought not have looked outside: even with the curtain tempering the sun-rays, they had been too bright for her. When she returned to the page, the words wobbled worse than usual, and the pain began to spread and intensify. It had been a busy day, and when she had eaten and drank, it had been in a hurry, and not enough. 

She closed her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

She kept her eyes closed.

“Yes. Just a headache. I get them sometimes.”

“Do you want to stop? We should stop. You need to rest.”

But she shook her head, pressing her fingers to the corners of her eyes. Her head felt like a bucket, with water sloshing around inside.

“I’ll be alright, Mr. Frodo.”

But she wasn’t alright. The dull fullness, paired with a vice-like grip, grew steadily, and before long she felt like she might lose what food she had eaten. She got up and moved to the couch, and put her face in her hands. 

Darkness. Deep breaths. That ought to set her to rights.

She felt Frodo take a seat beside her.

“Would you like to lie down? Or would you like me to walk you home?”

She shook her head again. Bagshot Row was noisy from dawn till well past sundown, and noise was not her friend at such times.

“No, Mr. Frodo,” she said. Her words came out slowly, like sap from a cut in a tree. “I just need to sit here for a spell, and then I’ll brew some willow bark tea, and I’ll be right as rain. I’m sorry to be an in-con-venience.”

“Oh, you’re no inconvenience, Mari.”

She felt him get up and a few moments later, the cushions shifted again as he sat back down.

“Might you have some willow bark in here?” She opened her eyes to see him holding her bag. “If so, I can brew it for you.”

The pain in her head was spreading and taking a hold in her neck, shoulders, and arms, and she did not have the wherewithal to protest. 

She nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo,” Marigold said, as she sipped the tea. 

Frodo had done well in brewing the bark, particularly for one with no apothecary experience. The brew was thick without tasting like the plant had been scalded or over-steeped, and there was not a trace of dirt or dregs - just warm, thick, golden-brown liquid. It was spreading quickly throughout her body, numbing and relaxing wherever it found hurt, helping her breathe a little easier. 

“I’ve been getting headaches since the Scouring,” she added, not quite knowing why.

Frodo sat by her side, a look of concern over his lovely features.

“But it’s getting better,” she went on quickly. “The first few weeks my head hurt all the time. It’s a wonder I knew what was what from one minute to the next. But now it’s only here and there.”

“Marigold… That’s — not right. Maybe you should go see Dr. Boffin.”

She shrugged, looking at her reflection in the tea.

“I know what it is. My brains got rattled pretty well when I was down in the Lockholes. There’s nothing for it now, except time.”

“Your… brains got rattled?”

Frodo thought back to that day in November – after the battle of Bywater, when the hobbits imprisoned by Saruman and Lotho had been freed. Marigold had been among them, and she had looked, as expected, very bedraggled – her hair matted, her features smeared with dirt, having lost much of her buxomness. But she had also staggered out propping up another hobbit, and while Sam had wept like a child when the two were reunited, she had also been the one to wipe away his tears, and to ask almost immediately who had been hurt and what help was needed. She had even set to work the very next day – even though it was her birthday, and had said that she had no resources for gifts that year, but was happy to give her time.

Come to think of it, he had never asked – did not think it was his place – what she had done to get imprisoned in the Lockholes. As far as he could tell, the Lockholes had been reserved for those who actively resisted Lotho and Saruman’s rule, but it was hard to imagine the docile and obliging Marigold actively resisting anything – though he supposed, just as with Sam, that a stolid and patient nature could have easily hidden a passionate heart.

“Rattled is the word,” Marigold replied matter of factly. The headache was loosening its grip, and so was the moribund, heavy feeling that came with it – a feeling that whispered and lied, sinking invisible claws in, promising no end in sight, no way of feeling well or happy ever again.

“They beat me almost daily in there. It was sure to happen e-ventually.”

“They… what? But why?!”

He knew conditions were harsh – many hobbits could barely walk upon coming out, while some never walked out at all – but this was another order of cruelty. He recalled Sam’s statement that if Lotho had not already been dead, he might have killed him all over again – not that Frodo approved of killing anyone for anything, even still.

Marigold took another sip. The willow-bark was working famously, which made her glad on a number of counts.

She stood up, straightening her skirts, and rolled her head this way and that, stretching her back with her hands on her waist. She looked out the window – thankfully, the sun was going down and a thin blanket of clouds had stretched across the sky. It was no longer bright enough to hurt her eyes.

“Why do you think, Mr. Frodo?” she said dispassionately, shrugging. “Because they could. Because people, if you give them power, like that kind of thing, if you get my meaning.”

Of course, she knew exactly why they did it, though she did not want to say it in so many words. The guards must have been under orders – they did not touch her that way, which was surprising at first, but roughing her up was a daily occurrence. The degree varied depending on the guard and his mood that day – at times it was a cuff to the side of her head, at times she was thrown to the ground and had the breath kicked out of her.

A few of the other hobbits, including the former mayor, Will Whitfoot, had tried to stand up for her at first – “Leave the girl alone, for heaven’s sake!” – the mayor had boomed, when he still could boom – “Whatever is the point of this?!” But it had only garnered him the same treatment, and he was starved for a week into the bargain.

The guards seemed to be under orders to avoid her face, too, and she knew why that was as well.

For those not privy to certain facts, it may have been odd that they targeted her that way. After all, there were many good looking lasses, though her reputation for goodness might have made her a particularly attractive object for defilement. Had she simply refused to do as she was told, she might have been passed around by Sharkey’s men and then discarded. But in a rare moment of righteous passion, and in front of the ruffians no less, she had found her voice and said something so cutting to Lotho — something only longtime residents of the Shire would know — that she earned herself a more elaborate punishment.

Frodo stood up beside her. He looked abjectly horrified, like he could barely keep his own feet.

“Marigold…” He wanted to touch her arm, but refrained with some effort. “How… How can you be so calm about this? Should you even be working? You need to rest, to heal. And those – those –”

He ran in his mind a list of hobbits who had been party to Lotho’s, and “Sharkey’s” regime – those, indeed, who were still alive and had not fled. He had but to say the word, and Sam and the other farm lads would deliver justice of the pitchfork and fist variety. But how would that help Marigold now, and would she even want such things done in her name?

An eye for an eye made the whole world blind. (2)

“But I am almost completely well, Mr. Frodo.” Marigold looked at him earnestly.

And it was true, too – the headache was melting away, and she was quickly coming back into her own, the Marigold that bounced. 

“And I get plenty of rest, as well” – she added – which she did, at night, since waking up from the dreams of getting brutalized was growing less frequent – “And I like work,” she went on. “It makes me feel like all is well in the world, if you get my meaning. Even if I’m hurting all the time, and even if I have to repeat everything to myself twice over, I don’t think I could be happy sitting still.”

Frodo regarded her, quietly, and opened and closed his hand a few times – as if exercising his joints, or recalling the weight of some object.

“But how did you get through it?” he finally asked. “I mean – well, you know what I mean.”

Marigold thought for a moment.

How had she gotten through?

The first thing that came to mind – and she had asked herself the same question, many times – was Mrs. Tunnelly. She was an older hobbit lady from Frogmorton, who had shared her cell, and had been kind. She would hold Marigold, and rock her to sleep and sing to her when she was hurting, and told her she had a daughter just the same age. She offered Marigold her rations, which Marigold staunchly refused, and had died in her sleep only a few days before the liberation.

But it wasn’t just Mrs. Tunnelly, as Marigold had realized with time. There was something else that had made it materially different from the other thing – from well before – that still haunted her and made her ill.

“I got through it because I had to, Mr. Frodo,” she replied. “I knew it would be worse if I didn’t. It was a simple choice, really, as far as choices go.”

And, suddenly, it felt like a simple choice, too, to tell him what had happened — all of it. He looked at her with such soulful feeling in his eyes – with a hint of admiration she did not deserve, but also more: a sort of luminosity and perceptiveness, echoing through each line of his rapidly aging face. Had their relationship been different, their arms might have reached toward one another, and they might have embraced.

“And Mr. Frodo, I could’ve kept company with the enemy, too, if you get my meaning,” she went on. “And I could have been safe that way for a while. But that would have meant I con-doned what was happening, that I con-doned the Shire and the others being ill-used, and people would have spat at me in the streets for it, and would have been right to do it. But Mr. Frodo, I knew it couldn’t go on forever – I knew Sharkey and Lotho would never win. I knew we would be rescued in time – and we were.” She looked at him significantly.

It was simple, really.

Simple.

There it was again. A word not in his lexicon, however comforting it was at times.

Marigold took another breath, and turned from side to side, her arms following her shoulders, her skirt fanning out like a bell.

“Well, Mr. Frodo, I’m feeling better now,” she said, almost joyfully. “Shall we go back to our letters?”

Frodo shook his head in wonderment and sighed.

The Gamgees, it seemed, were made of truly strong stuff. Far stronger than he was, anyway, and perhaps their secret was just that: a pure and simple heart – such a rare thing in this world, but also essential to not fall prey to its evils. 

It was people like them who tended the light, simply because they could not conceive of anything else.

This is from “Wandering Day,” written by Bear McCreary for the TV show Rings of Power, a song that easily could have been part of hobbit oral tradition and passed down to the time of The Lord of the Rings.

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” is, of course, a quote attributed to Gandhi, but Frodo would not know this.

[lunarcovehq]

BREAKING NEWS - INCOMING PLOT DROP #2

It appears the robbery at the Poison Room last week was not an isolated instance. The HQ Burglar has struck again. This time targeting the Wolf Den. In between the hours of 11p to Midnight last night (the same time frame as the previous Break in), the Burglar entered the werewolf headquarters. They were carrying a portable radio with them and a drawstring branded Siren Sounds backpack. The culprit stole an official pack member log that detailed out all of the wolves information by name and address dating back fifty years. They knocked over chairs, tossed documents around, tore up a number of Pack Pamphlets that had been used as coasters at the time and smashed a number of paperweights, as well as knocking a lamp over. They were interrupted a few minutes in by Nicolás Castillo Alders, the same witness to their previous Break In, and similar to the last time, the masked figure was able to flee the scene of the crime before Nico could catch them. Although the Alpha did manage to grab a hold of their backpack, the straps tearing clean off the culprit’s back allowing them the opportunity to slip away with the documents in hand. 

Sheriff Cavanaugh made it to the scene not shortly after where authorities worked with Nico to determine what had been taken and examined the evidence left behind. Inside the Burglar’s backpack itself, was a portable radio that was tuned into one, Wilhelmina Fitz’s, radio show. There was also a slip of paper with an email address for the pseudonym “Das Kind” on it and the password flowersforbex1967. This pseudonym, Authorities have been able to trace back to an ‘anonymous caller’ of the Siren Sounds Radio show. When asked about said caller, producer, Lisa Cramer, who works on Billie’s show with her, had the following to say, “I remember ‘Das Kind’. They reached out to us over email which isn’t all too out of the ordinary when you work in Radio. They went on and on about how much they loved Billie’s late night show, with its ‘array of classical selections’. You know how fans can be. They requested that she add Beethoven’s 45-minute ‘Hammerklavier’ to the playlist. The request was, in hindsight, a little strange? It was rather detailed... They wanted it to be played at precisely 11:10pm. ‘No later than 11:10′. They repeated it multiple times and had this whole sob story to go along with the request, about how the song was ‘in memory of a long lost love’? But, our listeners eat that kind of sh&* up, so I relayed the request onto Billie before I headed out for the night and, from what I heard, she ended up playing it just as requested at precisely 11:10pm.” 

Beethoven’s 45-minute ‘Hammerklavier’ was the exact song that was reported to be still playing out of the portable radio the HQ Burglar left at the scene of the crime and Sheriff Cavanaugh has reason to believe that the Burglar was using the song to keep track of the time while breaking into the Den given that the backpack also contained a detailed map to the Den (a location that only pack members should be aware of) from Siren Sounds station. The map had markings drawn along the river with timed notes regarding the Sonata’s four movements. The backpack was even lined with a trash bag as if in an attempt to keep the contents inside dry while swimming.

Perhaps the right supernatural could have swam from Sunny Harbor to Echo Acres, sacked the Den and made it back to the station before the song even ended. It would be a perfect alibi for a radio host supposedly "in the booth" during that time frame. This is only speculation, but given that ‘Das Kind’ is german for ‘the Kid’ as in ‘Billy the Kid’ and Sheriff Cavanaugh brought Billie Fitz in for questioning today, it is only safe to assume that the authorities are operating under a similar assumption. 

Billie Fitz will be held for questioning for two days before being convicted. On Friday the 16th, Billie will be able to be released on bail and, unless the charges are dropped, there is a pending Coalition Trial to be held the following week.

REMINDERS

This is our second plot drop in the series of plot drops we will be having this month!

For Pack Members- The Wolf Den is temporarily closed. You will have been alerted of the break in and, starting today, you will have been put on town watch. Although, authorities believe the culprit is now in custody, there is no telling as to whether or not Billie was working alone. So, you have been instructed to guard the Clan HQ & the Coalition HQ to keep an eye out for any future attacks.

For Coven Members- The Witch HQ and Poison Room are still closed, being roped off as part of the crime scene. It looks like you will have to find a different location/meeting point to brew any potions for the foreseeable future and, without the Poison Room, finding ingredients will become far more tedious.

For the Fae Court- A fae has been taken into custody and, although Billie was not a member of the Fae Court, Authorities have chosen to station look outs at the other HQs to prevent any future break ins, but not yours given that the culprit was a fae themselves.

For the Human Coalition- Given that Billie is a lesser fae, the Human Coalition has been tasked with putting together a list of questions for the Authorities to ask Billie while in custody. You have also been all alerted to keep your calendars free for the next few weeks in case authorities rule that this case will be taken to trial.

For the Council- Although Billie Fitz being taken in for questioning for the Break Ins falls under Human Coalition jurisdiction, given that it was the Council Headquarters that were the targets, you have also been gathered to personally question Billie as to why she’s been targeting the Council HQ locations specifically. You have also been tasked to hold a meeting to decide what to do moving forwards in terms of headquarters security etc. Nico, documents from your HQ have been stolen, so this is also an opportunity for you to figure out where they are now.

For Billie Fitz- You are being wrongfully framed for the past two Break Ins and have now been taken into custody. You are allowed visitors as well as phone calls while you are in holding, but all communication with outside parties will be monitored. It’s time to lawyer up and get someone to hopefully bail you out when your release date is set.

These plot drops are not mandatory, so if you’d prefer to not react to the above, you don’t have to. But, we do strongly encourage you to write open or private starters if you so choose. Even if your character doesn’t fit into any of the categories above, there are still break ins occurring around town that your character could be worried about/affected by or are wanting to prove Billie’s innocence etc.

The tag for these plot drops are lunarcoveplotdrop2. If you do react to any of the above, we ask you please tag everything under this tag.

We will be continuing to incorporate our volunteers into posts like these throughout the upcoming weeks.

Last, but not least, we hope you have fun!

[psychokiiller]

Magdelaine, or Grandma Mag, as she likes to be called, was an orphan. Her mom passed few hours after giving birth to her and her dad, hoping to give his only child a slightly better life, packed his stuff and went away to work in a distant city while leaving her to be raised by her aunt. Maybe something happened with him or maybe he just couldn't be bothered with actually having a child, but the letters gradually stopped coming once she was around 4 years old.

Being raised by her tough and no-time-for-nonsense, but still secretly kind aunt, she grew up to be a intelligent and logical young woman. Her life were strategically planned around working odd jobs helping around the farmers in the village while running a small bakery in the kitchen of the tiny house she managed to buy in the mornings.

Still, despite the tough exterior, Magdelaine wanted to be a mother more than everything. She loved watching the kids of her neighbours playing, their little cheeks red with enthusiasm as they ran around for hours chasing friends and animals. She wanted a family too. A good husband and kids that would grow up and give her adorable grandkids. She wanted a house full of love and warmth were everything could be solved over a cup of milk and a plate of cookies. But Magdelaine was patient and she knew that running trough the life would only give her problems, so, she waited for a man she could trust with her life.

And, one day, he showed up. A travelling merchant who was passing by the village and fell in love with her baked goods and then with her. He patiently waited for her to open her heart to him and then made permanent residence on it. With each of his travels he would come back with the most marvellous of gifts to her and when they finally got married, it didn't take long to a child be born. A child that Magdelaine loved so much she sometimes would pinch herself, afraid of it being nothing more than a dream. A child that soon enough had other three siblings that were as loved as him.

As the time passed, the merchants bag of gifts got bigger, but Magdelaine got thinner, paler, frailer. She couldn't do as much baked goods as she did in the past and had to spent more time sat by the fireplace to warm herself. The kids, now teenagers, sent letters to their dad asking him to come back quickly, for they were afraid of what was going to happen. In that trip, the merchant came back home without gifts, huffing and puffing, almost as if he had ran the whole way back and sat by Magdelaine's bed holding her hand as she grieved not being able to see her kids grown up and the grandkids she wished for. She closed her eyes for the last time while listening to the cries of the despair of her family around her.

But still, as the mourning got louder, Magdelaine felt her body lighter and lighter almost as if she went back to her teenage years instead of the sick and weary bones of her forties. So as she opened her eyes, Magdelaine was greeted of the vision of her family clinging to her pale body and realised she was given an opportunity to watch over them and fulfil her regrets. And so she did. Magdeline would push things over the balcony to remind them to eat or drop cups in the ground to remind them of the food cooking over the fire.

She stayed and watched as her husband and kids grew old. How they became strong and kind people. How they left and came back with spouses who looked at them with so much love in their eyes. How her husband grew old and how his hair turned white. How they came back and sat by his side as he layed in the same bed she layed all those years ago as he closed his eyes for the last time. How he appeared in front of her just like how he looked when they first met all those decades ago and how he stared at her in confusion when he started to disappear while she stayed.

Not yet, she thought, I'll go soon but not yet. There is one more thing I need to see, she thought as she watched her kids leave the house and her oldest lock the door behind him.

And so she waited.

And waited.

Many years passed and they didn't came back and still, she waited by the window watching as the whole worlds changed around her, patiently waiting.

And then you showed up.

So different from her with your strange clothes and strange way of talking. With your shining things and complaints about things such as wi-fi, whatever that may be.

And still, you entered the kitchen and put in the counter that old book of recipes that she wrote once she realised she were ill, and when she looked in your eyes, Magdelaine saw her child's eyes full of love and joy almost staring back at her.

Finally, she thought, Magdelaine would finally be able to watch over you and fulfil her last wish in this earth. She floated back to the kitchen and started dropping and moving things around, after all, the best possible introduction would be with a batch of warm cookies and a cup of milk.

And when you showed in the kitchen with your wooden board, talking in weird languages and asking her to introduce herself, she joyfully did so:

"Hello darling, I am your Grandmother Magdelaine, but you can call me Grandma Mag."

It soon became clear that the old house was haunted. That wasn’t the strange part. Instead of the usual cold spots the house was always cozy despite the broken furnace. One day you even woke up to fresh cookies you definitely had no memory of baking. It was time to pull out the Quija board.