#WE ALREADY TRIED TO TELL HIM SO MANY TIMES

[writingwordsgayly]

if you had told me when I leveled buildings I'd be living in a small village helping rebuild after a calamity I would have killed you, but once I opened my eyes I had to start fresh, no more fearful glances, just Jim behind the bar sliding my drinks to me while I shit talk the dart game going on to my left, they try to pull me into playing, but I'd rather keep competition out of my life, I've chosen the slow life and I will be sticking with it, besides, I'd hate to bruise there egos, because my biggest trick was throwing knives once upon a time. the bell jingles as a group walks in the sound of their laughter fills the air, I glance up, expecting one of the other builders to join me, but my blood runs cold as see him, the one who foiled so many plans, the one who believes me to be dead, he had no part in my retirement, in fact I had already taken him down for my monologue when it all changed, trailing behind him is his party, the warlock sees me first and does her best to draw attention from my side of the bar, she witnessed my shift, played a part of it even, I stand up to shuffle out the back when the party is drawn into the warlocks story, but the dart players can't take a hint and get louder thinking I'll be joining them, I dodge tables as I run for the door, but I hear many foot steps following me, I do not look back, Jim calls out that I better pay my tab later and I throw a few coins over my shoulder, just incase in unable to pay once they catch me.

fresh night air hits my face but I dare not stop, the sounds of the heroes follow me as I run where none in the town will overhear what's to come, I dodge a few crossbow bolts, I bless the empty roads as I make it home, still faster then the team that swore to end me. I turn at my door, ready to accept what is to come, the warlock is first, looking terrified, you see we had the same patron, that is what shifted my perspective, I notice her emblem first, the foe of that patron, gorturth who had offered me freedom of what my patron had twisted me to become, he had manufactured my life to for his narrative, to be the God of a champion, gorturth offered me wisdom,and a quiet place to think, and reflect on what would follow the truth, I see the warlock paladin also turned to her.she smiles slightly seeing my symbol of the same god once again, her friends gather in the clearing, weapons drawn and spells ready, I hold empty hands to the sky, accepting my karma, but a loud shout echos around us, the woodcutter stands in front of me axe in hand

"why are heros menacing a charity worker?" he starts,calmly he was the first to meet the new me, he saw the scars and fear, the brokenness of a fractured truth. the heroes start talking over each other, but he points at the paladin and they quiet down.

"I reckon you have a good head about you" she starts stuttering as she tries to figure out how to explain our mutual betrayal.

"hoath manufactured him into being a villain, he shaped him to be as he was, I was never a true paladin just a misguided warlock..." she quiets down, looking at unimpressed faces. "he saved you!" she points at the head hero, telling a truth I never would have, he pulls the arrow back, aiming it straight at my heart.

"how dare you mind control susan you fiend! I bet you have this whole town under your control. you will never change, once a villain always a villain" he shouts, the party goes quiet as he looses the arrow at me, ignoring the civilian standing in front of me, luckily always quicker then the hero's I push him out of the way, the arrow meets its mark, in my shoulder, never one to go for a kill shot, the cleric is the next to speak

"stop! he would have never tried to protect someone, will you just listen you? he can't escape and he's not fighting back!"

I swallow and begin to speak, the truths tumbel out, the woodcutter takes my hand halfway through,to stabilize me as I speak until I am hoarse, never one for many words, the shortest monologues imaginable is how I worked, I tell them of being abandoned and taught how to to kill, rewarded for it, and how we realized on that night it was all a gods plot, incentive to build fancier temples.

the party stands quiet, as do we all, no clue what follows the truth, the cleric walks towards me slowly, my husband goes to stand in front of me again but he understands these are my consequences to face, the cleric meets my eyes, her eyes are searching, trying to find my hidden motive, see my eyes darting to the clue that will give her the edge, but her eyes soften after a minute, glancing between me an my love, he knows the truth, it's one of the first things I shared once I Decided my new start would be here. she begins to pull the arrow out of my shoulder, and heals it with her magic, my husband invites them in, it seems his secret motive is to gush about my kind Deeds to embarrass me.

You, the villain, faked your death and started over years ago. But you never expected the hero to stumble into your new favorite bar, laughing with their friends.

[taeyongdoyoung]

that's a warning

summary: your professor's age is not a problem to you. and neither is his dark secret... pairing: professor!chan x uni student!reader genre: dark academia, vampire!au, smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), mentions of toxic friend, descriptions of blood, kissing, biting, eating out, blowjob, daddy kink (who's surprised?), ddlg implied, size kink, unprotected sex, forbidden relationship, insecurities, danger kink author's note: this is based on a dream i had + inspired by railway, obviously. read at your own risk 🥵 too many references to the song's lyrics in bold, sawrryyy word count: 3k

The moment you set your eyes on Professor Bang, you know that you need to have him. You've never felt an attraction so intense, so overpowering, so sinister in its obsession. You are willing to go to any lengths to get close to him. Even if it kills you.

It starts off innocent, almost childlike. The way you stay after his lectures to ask him silly questions (you know the answers to) about the homework. Sometimes you ask him about the location of other lecture halls (even though you've been to them hundreds of times). Sometimes you go to his office hours just to be alone with him (even though you are perfectly confident in understanding the study material).

At first, Chan accepts your incessant flood of questions with an easy-going smile. If he's being honest with himself, he likes the attention. It's been a while since someone's been that interested in talking to him. Especially someone so…young. Most students usually avoid his intense stare. He's been told it's far too intimidating. He tries to be welcoming to everyone but he's not sure he's doing a good job.

But as the semester nears its end, his patience wears thin. You always get full marks on your assignments and quizzes so he doesn't understand why you are constantly asking for his "help". And he's certain you know your way around the university better than any other student. You're always on time and your homework is flawless 100% of the time. So, he really doesn't get it. Are you messing with him? Is it funny to you to joke around with a poor old lonely professor?

Chan's decided he's had enough. And this time, when you catch him alone after the lecture, he's going to confront you.

"Cut the act," Professor Bang scolds you directly. "I know you know the answer to that question. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, Professor Bang?" you ask innocently, while batting your eyelashes.

"Pretending you're dumb. It's obvious you're a top student, so why are you always asking me stuff?" he grunts and pins you down with his intense gaze you're so addicted to.

Hell, you've never felt more terrified. It excites you.

"Don't you know already?" you mumble quietly. You want to look away but you're trapped in his beautiful dark eyes. So you don't.

"Is it fun, messing with an old man like me, huh? Is it some stupid college dare?" Chan asks, his insecurities getting the worst of him.

"You're not old," you insist passionately. "There's no dare. I just…like you."

"You…like me?" he repeats in disbelief.

You nod furiously, trying to convince him of your sincerity.

"But…why?"

"What do you mean why? You're so smart and handsome and sometimes even cute. I like…how you explain stuff like you don't think anyone is dumb, you're so patient and…warm."

Huh. Warm? It's been a while since someone's used that word to describe him, Chan thought.

"You do realize we could both get in trouble if…" he can't even believe he's even considering this. "If we were to…pursue something outside of the university walls?"

Fuck it, he said it.

"I know. I won't tell anyone, I promise," you are desperately grasping at straws as you find yourself so close to the one thing you've ever wanted more than anything.

Professor Bang shakes his head.

"I'm not asking you to keep it a complete secret. Just…if you choose to share it with people, be careful who you trust."

"I understand, Professor, I'll be careful," you promise.

"And…call me Chris or Chan or something," he shrugs. "When it's just us two."

God. It's really happening.

"Let me take you out to a restaurant," he offers suddenly. "Tomorrow evening?"

"That sounds amazing!" you grin excitedly.

Your first date with Chan arrives and you are so happy you feel like you could die. You don't wanna jinx things so soon and don't tell anyone where you're going.

"You look stunning," he compliments your dress as he pulls a chair out for you.

"Thank you so much, Chris," you smile and take a seat. "You look absolutely dashing, as always."

He chuckles but doesn't respond rightaway.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…I don't hear that much. Especially not from beautiful young women such as yourself."

"You're surely joking?" you frown. "Anyone would kill to be in my shoes right now."

"You're too kind," Chan replies, not seeming to believe your words and you decide to drop the subject. For now. "What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm…maybe some red wine?"

"Good choice," he smirks. "And food?"

"I'm really into pasta these days!" you squeal with excitement.

Chris orders for the two of you, making your heart flutter for the hundredth time. He's just…so dependable.

Till the food arrives, you busy yourselves with getting to know each other better. Outside of the university walls, it turns out you are both passionate about things other than academic endeavours. And with each glass of red, it becomes easier to share stuff about yourself with him.

As the evening nears its natural conclusion, Chan insists on paying the bill for the food and drinks.

"Now I feel bad," you pout adorably, clinging onto his arm for support, because all the wine made your legs slightly unstable. "Let's go for coffee!"

"I don't…really drink coffee," Chris confesses shyly.

"Tea, then! Please, I don't want to go home just yet. This night is so perfect, I don't want it to end."

"Okay, okay," he agrees easily.

You lead the way to one of your favourite cafés. This time, you excitedly pay for the warm beverages.

"It's snowing outside!" you marvel at the pretty snowflakes falling, illuminated by the street lights.

"Good thing we're all cozy and inside, then," Chan chuckles.

"Yeah…" you smile softly. "I really like you, Chan," you admit.

"I know, you said that a couple of times," he shakes his head, amused.

"Yes, but…you didn't say anything. Do you like me, too?" you inquire self-consciously.

"I do like you. You're very clever and funny and obviously super pretty."

"Really?" you blink furiously to stop yourself from tearing up. You don't get to hear something like that by someone you admire so much. Someone who inspires you to be as diligent and hard-working as him. Scratch that. You don't get to hear words like that very often. It sometimes strikes you how badly you need to be acknowledged for your efforts.

"You must know that."

"No, actually, I don't," you smile sadly. "But it's really nice of you to say it. True or not."

Chan stretches his hand out across the table to hold yours.

"Hey. It's true, okay?"

"Guess I'll stick around to find out, yeah? And maybe I'll help you believe it, too," you suggest.

"Maybe. I'd really like that."

And stick around you do. The next semester, Chan is no longer your Professor, so you don't have to worry so much about getting in trouble with the university's authorities. Eventually, as things start becoming more serious, you decide to share the news about your boyfriend's identity with a few of your closest friends.

Luckily, most of them are super supportive and happy about your relationship. They tell you that you've looked happier recently and are pleased to finally know the reason. There is one friend, however, who is completely against.

"I don't approve. You can't date him," she outright says.

"Can't? Excuse me?" you become aggravated. You've had some fights in the past, situations when she's been jealous of you hanging out with other friends and has done some toxic stuff behind your back. So, her reaction doesn't come as a complete surprise. But still, it sucks that she hasn't outgrown this kind of pettiness.

"He's like…too old for you. And the fact he was your Professor is just…gross."

"How can you say that? You've never even met him."

"Then, let me meet him."

"Why would you meet him if you've already made up your mind?"

"To make sure he's worthy of you, duh."

"That's my call to make. Not yours."

And with that, you leave. This is just…too much. Later, you talk to another friend about this situation to get a second opinion.

"Nah, fuck her. I mean, it's your relationship, she can't dictate how you feel or who you're seeing romantically."

"Right? That's exactly what I've been thinking."

"It sucks that she said those stuff but maybe you're better off," your other friend shrugs.

"Yeah…For the time being, I'll distance myself from her. If she starts acting like an adult, only then will I consider letting her back in."

"That's totally valid," your friend agrees. "Take your time and look after your mental health."

"Thank you so much. I knew you'd get it."

"Always!"

Soon after that, you hang out at Chan's place and you decide to talk talk to him about the falling-out with that toxic friend.

"Well, technically, I am too old for you."

"The fuck you are! Are you taking her side?" you cry out passionately.

"Hell, no! I'm just saying…you could find any college guy your age and…"

"No, shut up, Chris!" you shake your head, refusing to entertain such an idea. "I don't want anyone but you!"

"But I'm dangerous for you," Chan sighs. But you can't believe that. He's been nothing but kind and accepting in the short time you've known each other.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"You'd think I'm crazy if I told you," he grins somewhat devilishly. "It'd be better if I showed you instead. But then, I'd have to kill you."

"W-what?" you stammer, his behaviour totally unlike the gentle guy you're used to seeing.

Suddenly, Chris grabs your wrist and starts pulling you somewhere.

"W-where are we g-going?" you ask helplessly but he doesn't respond. He's too strong to fight him back so you just try to keep up with his speed and follow him down the stairs and into the basement. Where you'll find answers to questions you didn't even know you were supposed to be asking.

When he unlocks the door, you are greeted with red. A lot of it.

"What is all this?"

"Come on, sweetheart, I thought you were smarter than that," Chris chuckles.

"It's…blood banks," you state the obvious, feeling dumber than ever.

"Wow, you don't say," Chris replies sarcastically.

"Why…why do you have all this blood in your basement? Is it like a…kink thing?!" you gasp in shock.

"No, darling, it's not a kink thing," he laughs, the idea incredibly amusing. "Take a guess."

"Are you a serial killer?" you try to think of a logical explanation.

"You're too realistic," Chris sighs. "Think…something you never thought possible."

"You're…a vampire!" you exclaim triumphantly.

"Bingo," he confirms unenthusiastically. "So, your friend was correct to worry. I am too old for you. And bad for you. I never should have let this go so far."

You shake your head.

"N-no, she's not right," you disagree. "I don't care."

"You don't care?" Chris tilts your chin up, facing you directly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to restrain myself from sucking your blood dry?"

You gulp nervously but refuse to believe he'd actually do that. Especially considering he hasn't done so already…

"Why did you become a Professor surrounded by so many humans if self-control is so hard for you?" you push back cleverly.

"It's never been a problem for me to control my thirst. Until you."

"Then, why did you let me get so close?" you inquire.

"Because I was weak…And lonely. I shouldn't have let you in."

Your eyes tear up with emotion.

"Are you saying you'd be happier without me?"

"Happier?" Chris scoffs. "No, I wouldn't be happier. But you would be safer without me."

"Fuck that," you argue. "I am safe when it's just you and me. Knowing you're a vampire changes nothing about how I feel about you."

"Then, you're even more insane than I am," Chris sighs, unable to deny the growing tension between you two.

You kiss him roughly to prove him right, digging your fingers into his soft hair. He kisses you back just as hungrily, incapable of letting you go.

Yes, he may be dangerous for you. But so are you. Willingly pursuing him, not running away from him despite knowing the truth.

He grabs your hair and pulls back, exposing your neck.

"Last chance to get out of here. That's a warning," Chris whispers darkly.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you grin, completely trusting him.

Even if he was your Professor, even if he is way older than you than you initially thought, even if he is a blood-sucking predator, there is no one else you'd trust so unconditionally, so irrevocably.

"What if I hurt you?" he asks, a hint of worry making his dark eyes glow with warmth.

"You couldn't," you insist and close your eyes, tilting your neck. "You can bite me, if you want."

"You're crazy," Chris repeats.

"I trust you," you speak your thoughts out loud.

And this is his breaking point. He attacks your neck with his sharp fangs, not wanting to hold back any longer. The bite stings but in such a sweet way you would be happy to go, if this was your fate…As he drinks from you, you weakly wrap your hands around his neck for support, needing him to ground you. Just as badly as he needed one taste from your delicious blood. If your blood is what Chris needs for survival, then he will surely be your undoing.

Somehow, against all reason, Chan manages to detach his fangs from your neck.

"Fuck," he caresses your neck, smearing the blood all over your porcelain skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you murmur dazedly. "I'm okay."

He holds you close, kissing your cheeks and trying to clean up the mess he made.

"Let's get out of here," Chan suggests and lifts you in his arms, carrying you back to the coziness of his place.

"I don't mind," you reassure him. "You being a vampire, that is. I love every part about you. I love...you."

"You…love me?" Chan gasps in surprise.

"I do, I love you," you say once again for good measure.

He doesn't say anything, just kisses you again in disbelief. You hug him tightly, finding so much comfort in his arms. Whatever you've heard about vampires doesn't apply to Chan. He's radiating so much warmth you feel you could burn.

"Hold on tight," he warns and you grip the headboard top rail for dear life, as Chan makes sure to show you blood is not the only thing he's interested in drinking.

As he laps up your juices greedily, you find yourself on the verge of losing your sanity. Your hands give out and you let go of the bed's railings and opt for burying your fingers into his curls once more for support.

"Chris, please, please," you cry out, not even sure what you're begging for. For him to stop? For sweet release? It doesn't matter, as long as he stays with you.

Soon enough, your prayers are answered and you start seeing stars floating in the middle of the room.

"Did I kill you already?" he laughs upon seeing your reaction.

"Try harder," you tease him, even though you are already so gone.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Chris shrugs.

He takes off his jeans and stuffs your mouth full with his giant cock. You try to babble something but it's no use and your helplessness only turns him on more. You hug the back of his knees and let him fuck your throat as he pleases, even though you don't have much of a choice in the matter. Your vision is cloudy with tears and you can't even ask for mercy as his cum starts flooding your mouth. If you thought him drinking your blood was overwhelming, this is on a whole 'nother level of dizzying.

Once he's done using and abusing your throat, he pulls his cock out, smirking at you from above.

"You okay, sweetheart? Still alive?"

"Y-yes, d-daddy," you manage to croak out weakly.

Chris shakes his head in amusement upon hearing the sudden title.

"Then, I guess Daddy's gonna have to give ya a rough ride so you'll forget your own name, huh? How does that sound?"

"More, please," you plead desperately and he makes good on his promise.

He enters you without another warning and you can't keep your screams inside.

"G-god, y-yes," you moan.

"God isn't in this room, darling," Chris cackles maniacally. "The devil, however…"

You kiss him again because he's talking so much your brain can't keep up.

"S-so b-big," you cry.

"Yeah? Too big for my little girl?" he teases you.

"N-no. P-perfect. You're perfect," you insist stubbornly.

Chris fucks into you with supernatural stamina and you are grateful for that because even though you want to, you aren't able of keeping pace with him. Instead, you are happy to just hold onto him and focusing all your energy into…well, not passing out. You're so wet for him that his enormous size slides in and out easily, satisfying both of you with the intensity of the feeling. At last, you cum together, overwhelmed by the passion and affection you feel for each other.

He collapses on top of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. You welcome his weight like he's a giant blanket, comforting you.

"Don't wanna let go of you," Chan murmurs cutely.

You stroke his hair once more with a gentle touch. How is this man who has so many more years of experience still such a cute boy, desperate for tenderness?

"Then, don't. I'm all yours to keep," you chuckle weakly.

"That wouldn't be very productive to our academic future," Chan complains.

"It's okay. I feel like we've both earned a little break," you point out.

"From university? Sure. But when it comes to us two…I need no break. No brakes."

"Nicely said," you giggle, ready for another round on this train that never sleeps.

The End

[oceanicwriting]

is not allowed.

summary: since the holidays began, you have taken care of the youngest son of the berkshire family. one night, while the little one sleeps, the creature's older brother is home, and the sensations begin to be too intense to keep you standing.

pairing(s): non-wizard!lorenzo berkshire x non-wizard!fem!reader

a/n: my first lorenzo fic! i tried my best :-).

+18 smut, oral sex (fem receiving), masturbation (fem receiving), cursing, silence sex (?)

ㅤㅤㅤ—we're leaving! —mrs. berkshire announces, appearing in the kitchen where franklin, her youngest son, is eating dinner—. remember...

ㅤㅤㅤ—no more video games and straight to sleep when the clock strikes eight —the little one interrupts, receiving a loud kiss from his mother and four pats on the back from his father—. you've already told her many times, mom.

ㅤㅤㅤthe woman laughs, and even if franklin had told her, she repeats her conditions again in a whisper. when they leave, the boy starts talking about his best friend carl's birthday party.

ㅤㅤㅤever since summer started and you returned to your hometown, you've taken care of franklin berkshire. your mother, who has been a friend of the family for a while, had helped you get the job that the other babysitter had abandoned for no apparent reason. no one talked about it, and when you asked franklin the first few weeks, he always got in a bad mood.

ㅤㅤㅤ—and lisa made out with holden —he says, finishing telling all the things that happened on that birthday. you look at him, surprised by what he had just said—. a kiss on the cheek.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that seems more appropriate to me. aren't you, like, five years old to be making out? —the little boy's face at your words makes you laugh, but you stop when you notice that he is pushing the asparagus away from his salad—. you must eat everything that is on your plate, young man.

ㅤㅤㅤ—we are ten years old. —he answers, crossing his arms—. and i do not like asparagus.

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh softly, but you stop when lorenzo berkshire, the oldest son of the family, appears well dressed in the kitchen.

ㅤㅤㅤ—she told you that you have to eat everything, dwarf. —his thick voice fills all the empty space of the place, and you can notice how franklin tense with his presence—. she will accuse you with your mommy.

ㅤㅤㅤyou knew they didn't get along at all. franklin started saying he was a fool from day one, and when you met him, you could only confirm it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo...

ㅤㅤㅤ—you don't order me around —franklin says, getting up from his chair to leave the kitchen with quick steps.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo rolls his eyes, and you go after the little boy, but you stop to look at him and say—: can you stop picking fights with him? he's just a kid.

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you. his cold, disinterested eyes are attractive, making you forget that you're after the boy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—will you wash this glass for me, darling? —he leaves the glass in which he drank water and smiles satisfied—. thanks.

ㅤㅤㅤyou want to say something, but lorenzo walks out the door to the garage, not in the mood to listen to you much longer.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you meet franklin in the living room, you notice that he's still frowning. to cheer him up, you suggest to play a board game until eight o'clock, filling the room with your laughter and complaints every time you beat him. you play until the phone rings the alarm that tells you to get him ready for bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you still mad about your brother? —you ask. he's lying in his bed, covered up to his neck, and his uneasy gaze glued to the ceiling of the room.— you know he does this to make you angry, franklin. you shouldn't listen to him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—he's an idiot.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod softly, leaving a kiss on his forehead to wish him goodnight and leaving the room. as usual, you leave the door ajar in case he wakes up in the middle of the night and goes down to the first floor.

ㅤㅤㅤmr. and mrs. berkshire would arrive home around midnight, so, killing time, you start washing franklin's dirty dishes.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen it was around ten at night, you decided to watch a movie in the living room, but you couldn't do it without some snacks to accompany you. in the cupboard, you look for a bag of popcorn to make in the microwave, although you didn't finish closing the appliance because lorenzo's presence in the kitchen makes its way like a tornado.

ㅤㅤㅤthe garage door had closed so hard that it practically echoed throughout the block, and his footsteps weren't far behind. his whole body moved tensely towards the kitchen exit, dragging an air full of rage.

ㅤㅤㅤ—franklin is asleep, lorenzo. —the simple sound of your voice makes him stop halfway, turning on his heels—. i would appreciate it if you did not stomp so hard on the second floor.

ㅤㅤㅤhis eyes scan your body, this time more slowly than before leaving a few hours ago. the confusion in your gaze is obvious, but lorenzo does not seem to notice it. he was so angry at the way his now ex-girlfriend had treated him that he did not notice anything other than the figure of your body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what time do my parents arrive? —he asks, walking in your direction slowly.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo berkshire is a tall boy with brown hair and eyes. his smooth, flawless skin gave the impression that he had never had a bad day in his life. he was spoiled, envious, demanding, and the epitome of beauty in all its letters.

ㅤㅤㅤ—at midnight —you answer, putting the bags of popcorn in the microwave and walking to find a bowl to put them in.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that gives me enough time —he says. you were going to ignore his words and the way your body reacted to feeling his gaze on you, but you can't when his hand tightens on your arm—. do you have a boyfriend?

ㅤㅤㅤ—what? —you pull on his arm to get him to let go of you, but there is no reaction from him—. what are you doing? leave me.

ㅤㅤㅤhe shakes his head, cornering you against the nearest wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you have a boyfriend?

ㅤㅤㅤ—why do you care?

ㅤㅤㅤyour head spins from the strong scent of alcohol on his breath and expensive perfume wafting from his bare neck. lorenzo has his dark eyes glued to yours so intensely that it was suffocating.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no. i don't have a boyfriend.

ㅤㅤㅤhe smiles, satisfied that he doesn't have to do much more to get an answer out of you. his tongue runs over his teeth in the middle of his smile, and you feel a dead weight fall on your stomach. the hand that was holding your arm began to rise with the tips of his fingers caressing your skin. when he reaches your neck, without stopping to look at you, your whole body bristles.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, what are you...?

ㅤㅤㅤ—so precious.

ㅤㅤㅤhis face moves closer to the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses, running his tongue over it, and sucking on parts of your skin. your perfume stings his nose, and you can feel him sigh against you. the sensations blooming unsettle you because you knew you were doing something that wasn't allowed. something forbidden was brewing between you two, and you had to do something before it get out of control.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, wait —you say, pushing him. he responds to your reaction with a raised eyebrow—. your brother is sleeping upstairs.

ㅤㅤㅤyou should have said something else to stop him, something as simple as not wanting to do it, but the unsatisfied feeling had already begun to torture your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—then you better not be so boisterous, precious.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo pulls your arm, pushing you afterward against the island. everything happens so fast that from one moment to the next, you are sitting on the raw ivory of the island, half dressed and feeling his mouth wander fearlessly along the expanse of your torso. this time, he bites, licks, and sucks more roughly than a few minutes ago when he hid his face in your neck.

ㅤㅤㅤyour breathing becomes disordered when you can feel his messy hair tickling the inside of your thighs. his face so close to your needy pussy makes you clench the throbbing wetness. lorenzo smiles like a predator and begins to kiss the expanse of your soft legs.

ㅤㅤㅤ—l-lorenzo —you try to say, formulate a complete sentence that would make him enter his five senses, but you can't when you yourself feel your own desire forming—. please.

ㅤㅤㅤhis mouth slams against your pussy, making you jump at the sensation. lorenzo's tongue wanders between your lips, clitoris and entrance as if he wanted to memorize every texture he can find. it's a matter of time before your moans have to be silenced by your own hand.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo berkshire knew how to tap his tongue against your folds, how to suck on your clit until you were satisfied and how to look at you to turn you into a bundle of muffled moans. although you would never have imagined it, now that you see him there, you think about how much you would like to do it more often.

ㅤㅤㅤshortly after, one of his hands joins the wetness of his mouth, burying himself without any preparation in you. tears accumulate in your eyes from the combination of his fingers probing your insides roughly and his mouth demanding more every time a moan escaped you. the sensations begin to drive you crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤhe can notice the way your thighs squeeze his head, so he sucks and flicks his tongue faster as his fingers don't leave a moment of peace. as surprising as it may be, the desire you had built up explodes against his face buried in you. his fingers are the first to break contact, but his lips are still there, taking every drop of your liquids.

ㅤㅤㅤ—e-enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you, letting the cold of his absence crash against your pussy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what's the problem, darling? why do you have that face? —the mocking tone that colors his voice only sends thousands of exciting signals throughout your body—. i can't wait to be inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo unbuttons his shirt, throwing it to the floor and unbuttoning his pants afterward. when he's half naked, you can make out the bulge pressed against his underwear, a bulge that he leaves free before your gaze, and he smiles satisfied by the expression on your face.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're going to come ask me for more, i know it —he says. there's so little shame in his gaze that you can't believe what you were about to do—. this is all for you for tonight.

ㅤㅤㅤhe takes your legs, his hands burying themselves in your skin to put them on his shoulders. your back falls against the cold surface of the island.

ㅤㅤㅤ—why aren't you saying anything?

ㅤㅤㅤyou look away, knowing that you were a terrible liar and in a vulnerable state like this, you wouldn't be able to go unnoticed. you wanted him to bury himself in you, to find a space inside you and make you cum like he did a moment ago. lorenzo can't stand that you don't look at him and pulls your hair to force you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, tell me.

ㅤㅤㅤhis brown gaze fixed on yours and his erect member pushing against your pussy don't let you think clearly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, please. i need you to do it.

ㅤㅤㅤa smile draws on his lips, pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you need me to do what? —he whispers, slowly thrusting inside you—. so tight.

ㅤㅤㅤthe sensation starts to burn, hurt, and transform into a thousand other things in moments.

ㅤㅤㅤ—answer the fucking question.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to make me come again, please. lorenzo, i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤwith one push, he finds himself balls deep inside you. your legs are on his shoulders, hugged by one of his arms, and his free hand covers your mouth as you let out a loud moan. the sensation filling every corner of your body so perfectly that it was exquisite.

ㅤㅤㅤ—shut your mouth, shit.

ㅤㅤㅤthat doesn't stop his movement, going in and out faster each time. lorenzo was just as eager as you to feel you. ha was watching your breasts bounce from the rhythm he's set, eyes filled with tears from the inability to moan like you want and hot air hitting his hand. he loved the sight so much that he could fuck you all night if he had the chance.

ㅤㅤㅤ—more? —he questions, still moving his hips.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, his breasts as erratic as yours and his collar bouncing every time he hits you. the sound of your skin colliding is heard louder and louder on the walls of the kitchen.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i can feel you want more when you squeeze my cock.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nods, almost crying desperately.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo's back and forth starts to get messier but fast. the feeling of his cock burying itself deeper and deeper, drowning your moans each time and holding you were turning your head into a jumble of insane thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤhe can notice how your body reacts, squeezing his cock more and more. then, letting go of your legs to fall on either side of his hip, he begins to massage your clit in quick circles. your back arches from the outbreak of all your desire about to explode again.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, precious, cum like you wanted.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo stretches over you, uncovering your mouth and kissing you in a messy movement. that had been enough to make you come in a scream that is muffled against his hot mouth. his member still inside you, his tongue now wandering around the inside of your mouth and his hand coming up to hold you cheek. there was so much charge in that kiss that the separation of his body against yours is surprising.

ㅤㅤㅤ—clean up this mess before my parents get here —he says, taking his clothes and putting on his pants.

ㅤㅤㅤsomehow, confused and weak, you try to clean up the mess until you realize that you just had sex with the older brother of the boy you were going to take care of for the rest of the long summer.

[cecilysass]

Beacon (1/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

A delight to write this as a secret Santa gift for @libbytxf whose work I've enjoyed so much myself. She enjoys slow burn, and this is as slow burn-y as I could manage. She has literary sensibilities, and I tried to weave those in. There's a very subtle Pride and Prejudice allusion, as she and I both are fans. I hope you enjoy this, Libby. I'm going to post a chapter a day; I hope that's okay!

Chapter 1

Mulder drives them through the last leg of the icy woods, wind rattling through the spindly trees hanging over them. It’s just early evening, but the rental car’s headlights are already slicing through the winter gloom. From the passenger seat, Scully watches sprays of snow dust blow off of the birch trees.

They round a bend and the trees suddenly disappear: a New England town appears from nowhere, lit with golden streetlights that bounce off the old-fashioned brick and clapboard buildings. Scully looks around with interest. At first it seems eerily still, like a postcard, but then she notices a few locals walking along the sidewalks, pulling their coats tight and huddling close together.

“Temperature is really dropping,” Mulder remarks, reaching down to turn up the heat. He brings the car to a halt at what seems to be the town’s only stoplight. “You bring some sweaters, Scully?”

Strands of glowing holiday lights hanging over the streets sway back and forth in the wind.

“Of course I did,” Scully replies, but wonders how many sweaters he expects her to have packed. Just what kind of case does he imagine this will be, a week before Christmas? There are suspiciously few details and she has a feeling there’s more he’s not telling her. It wouldn’t, of course, be the first time.

She turns to the window again to observe the little downtown. It vaguely reminds her of a full-sized version of a painted porcelain Christmas village her mother owns, every building conspicuously charming. All sharp edges blunted with snow, vaguely glowing with bulbs, the downtown is old-fashioned in a way that makes one think of Bedford Falls, of Jimmy Stewart.

“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” she wonders, peering intently out the passenger window. “This is the location of your ghost deaths?”

“Hellespont, Vermont,” Mulder agrees, nodding, tapping on the steering wheel restlessly. “Established 1785. We’re looking for the Beacon Inn, so keep your eyes peeled.”

The light changes, and he drives past a historic town hall. There is, honest to god, a grouping of rosy-cheeked children in wool caps singing in a formation on the front steps. Scully observes them closely as the car moves by. Electric candles in their hands, ruddy glow on their faces: angels we have heard on high.

“It doesn’t seem like the site of supernatural murder.”

“Well, Scully, like I said, the deaths haven’t officially been described as homicides,” Mulder says. “They’re all—”

“Yes,” Scully says. “Sudden cardiac deaths. You did say.” She isn’t in the mood for Mulder’s withheld key information and sudden reveals. “Which, as it happens, is one of the most common causes of death in the United States.”

“Three cardiac deaths in six months in one New England inn,” Mulder reminds her. “That’s a little uncanny. And my source says—”

“That it’s a ghost,” Scully cuts in again. “Some tortured soul who has made the journey back from the great unknown to attack with the power of coronary artery disease.”

“Sure,” Mulder says uneasily. She feels him glancing at her. “We both agreed this one was worth poking into, didn’t we?”

A slight pause. “Yes,” she says. “Of course we did.”

“Good,” Mulder says. His eyes bounce off of her again. “I’m mostly going off of what the source told me, the inn’s owner. There aren’t … many details. It’ll probably be too late tonight, but I’m hoping we can both run through the whole story with him tomorrow morning.”

She takes a breath, pushing back her irritation. “I assume we’re staying at the haunted inn.”

Mulder flashes her a placating grin. “It’s actually a much nicer place than what I usually book.”

“Besides the high rate of sudden death, of course.”

“Hopefully we can help them out with that,” Mulder says. He drums on the steering wheel again and serenades her. “‘Something strange in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call, Scully?’”

Scully smiles tolerantly and turns back to the window. She’s unable to stop herself from peering out to watch the people milling around downtown Hellespont: cozy scarves pulled over their faces, shopping bags over their arms, hand in hand with significant others. Ordinary lives that seem increasingly distant from her own.

“I, uh, know you’re probably eager to be finished up before the holiday,” Mulder adds. “Get back to your mom’s.”

Scully nods slowly, her gaze still out the window, unable to respond right away. Yes, she is eager to be back with her family for Christmas, and yet it’s also the very last place she wants to be. Her sister absent. Her sister never coming to Christmas again. Her mother’s dull-eyed grief. It might be better to turn her energy to ghostbusting after all.

“What are you doing for the holidays, Mulder?” she asks the window, keeping her tone light and conversational. “Going on an adventure? Going skiing with the Gunmen? Hot date?”

“Hot date, for sure,” he says. She turns to look at him, and he’s picking some sunflower seeds out of a bag he’s stashed in the console.

“Ah, then you must be eager to finish the ghostbusting case up, too.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he says. “You know we tend to wrap these cases up fast and tidy, Scully. We’ll be back to family and holiday love in no time.” Just as she is about to give him an incredulous look, he gestures out the window. “Oh, look, there it is,” he says suddenly. He’s pointing to the ornate sign outside a Victorian house perched on a hillside. “Beacon Inn.”

***

There is ice coating the uphill walk to the Beacon Inn, and Mulder resists the urge to offer Scully a steadying arm. She might refuse it, and that would needle him, even though it has nothing to do with him. Well, it might have something to do with him. But mostly, he thinks, it isn’t about him at all.

He’s aware that Scully’s grieving this holiday; this first Christmas without her sister. He sees it in the slump of her shoulders when he mentions time off coming up, the way her eyes focus on some unseen place at work, the way he finds her sister’s file left sitting out, thumbed through yet again. Still raw, still unsolved.

His own sister’s case has haunted him for more than twenty years. Everyday he has to grapple with what it means to still not have justice and to still be seeking even the barest minimum of answers. Does Scully fear the same for herself? Does she look at him and see a bleak future? This recent interest of hers in religion: it troubles him. He knows she’s started going back to Mass, after the stigmata case, the case with Kevin Kryder. It’s like she’s searching for something to hold on to, any port in a storm.

He doesn’t know what it portends.

In quiet moments he’s studied her across the office. Every day he half expects to hear her say she’s giving her notice. He wonders if he shouldn’t encourage her to.

But what would the work be like without her? What would the basement be like? Who would he talk to about his ideas, his theories, his weekend? He’s not quite selfless enough to urge her to walk away.

This case—haunted deaths in bucolic New England—has sat in his “maybe” pile for weeks: intriguing, definitely, but with a distinct odor of “junior high ghost story.” After observing Scully for one listless morning last week, he pulled the file out again, spread out the pages, and began putting together a slideshow.

She’s always one to find her purpose in work. They’re alike that way. And Vermont in the snow, a haunted inn—there’s a certain ambiance to this one, right? He knows he’s charmed by this sort of thing, so she might find it charming, too. At very least she’ll be able to complain about having to tolerate junior high ghost stories.

And he thinks she does like complaining about that, sometimes.

At the root of it, it’s just plain selfish. He can’t stand to be in the office and see that expression on her face anymore. Anything is better than that. So over the river and through the woods to the haunted inn they go.

He turns to look at her now as they approach the front steps. She’s wearing her long black trench. Her cheeks are pink from the cold; her expression is perfectly neutral. She notices his stare and looks back at him quizzically.

The case has yet to engage her full attention, he can see that perfectly well. But they’ve only just arrived. There is plenty of time to pull her in. On any case it sometimes takes a while for her to pluck at the thread that interests her the most. She always finds something, her own distinctive way into the labyrinth. It’s one of the things about Scully he likes the very most.

Stepping gingerly around piles of snow-crusted lumber and plaster debris around the front porch, they glance at one another.

“Under construction.” Scully gestures to a tarp over the front of the porch.

“Apparently they’re doing some remodeling,” Mulder agrees.

“Some remodeling,” calls a voice from inside the slightly-open door with an audible huff. “Tactful understatement. Did you hear what they said, Duncan? They said you’re doing some remodeling.”

The door, which is adorned with a fat evergreen wreath with bronze ornaments, cracks further open, and a slight white man in his late forties, clad in a thick wool sweater, an apron, and wire frame glasses, sticks his torso out. “Agent Mulder?”

“Yeah, hello,” Mulder says, stepping over piles to approach. “I’m Agent Mulder, and this”—he gestures with a sweeping arm to Scully, who steps next to him—“is my partner Agent Scully. You must be Duncan Macneill?”

“Just Duncan, please,” the man says. “I am the co-owner of Beacon Inn. As well as manager, cook, historian, night watchman. Come inside, please. It’s bitter cold.”

He beckons for them to follow him, and Mulder and Scully step inside after him. Immediately they’re greeted with a blast of warm air and the woody, aged smell of a historic house.

As they wipe their wet feet on a woven mat, Mulder carefully eyes the lobby, which is really a living room. It’s rustic, cozy, a mix of antiques and newer pieces, with somber historic portraits on the walls and some quirky mismatched furniture scattered with brightly-colored pillows. There is a giant glowing Christmas tree festooned with large red velvet bows. Mulder’s no expert, but it looks like a lot of care and love has gone into decorating.

“We’re so sorry about the mess outside,” another voice chimes in. A round-faced Asian man about Duncan’s age sits behind a desk across from the door. “It’s just inhospitable, isn’t it? I keep telling Duncan we need to wrap the project up, but it drags on and on through the seasons.”

“The new exterior will be worth it,” Duncan proclaims confidently. “Although I admit, it has taken a while.” He winks at the man behind the counter, then turns to Mulder and Scully. “This is the inn’s other co-owner… my partner, Banoy Borja.”

Mulder walks over to shake Banoy’s hand. “Agent Mulder—and my partner, Agent Scully.”

“So nice to meet you,” Scully says with a smile.

“Oh,” Banoy says, stepping back to look them over. “I’d reserved two upstairs bedrooms, both singles. Should I prepare the Beech Bedroom instead? It’s got a queen.”

“It’s fine,” Mulder says quickly.

“Two singles is perfect,” Scully adds.

“Different kind of ‘partner,’” Duncan stage whispers to Banoy.

“F.B.I. partners,” Scully clarifies quietly.

“Right, I just thought maybe both...?” Banoy explains.

“No,” Mulder says emphatically. “No. Just F.B.I. partners.”

“Ahh, of course,” Banoy says, his eyes flickering between them. “My mistake.”

Scully spins abruptly towards the porch again. “Your renovations look quite extensive,” Scully says, changing the subject. “Are you building on to the house?”

“No, no. The porch was falling apart,” Duncan says. “We’re modernizing it, rebuilding, but this is New England, so naturally we have to adhere to the town’s historic preservation code. And of course we want to maintain the inn’s Victorian exterior, too.”

“We had a tiny bit of trouble,” Banoy says. “It can be tricky. You know. Historic preservation commissions in small towns.”

“It’s all resolved now,” Duncan says, waving his hand dismissively.

Scully nods, but Mulder notes her eyebrows are drawing together the way that she does when she’s thinking about something.

“We’re going to want to ask you both some questions about the recent deaths,” Mulder tells them. “But … maybe not tonight.”

Banoy looks stricken. “Yes, of course, but please—” He lowers his voice and looks around nervously. “Just make sure that there’s none of that talk about death in front of guests.”

Mulder discreetly glances from side to side and sees no one else around but the four of them. He nods understandingly. These are touchy topics. “Sure, of course,” he says. “‘Maybe we can talk tomorrow morning, somewhere quiet? Mr. Macneil, you were the one to contact us—does that work for you?”

“Duncan, I told you,” corrects Duncan. “And yes, Agent Mulder. Why don’t we have coffee and pastry in the kitchen? Say 9-ish?”

“Duncan loves to talk about the ghost,” Banoy says with an affectionate eyeroll. “You’ll never shut him up. But let’s get you checked in and settled. You must be so worn out.”

“Grab the bags while I check in?” Scully says offhand to Mulder. He nods automatically. It’s a well-established system by now. Mulder turns for the door as Scully speaks to Banoy.

When he comes back in, Scully is still chatting with the two men about the inn’s renovations. Mulder’s eyes narrow as he drags their bags by; some detail has obviously attracted her interest there. Which is good, really. He wants to see her involved in the case. If it’s important, she’ll update him later.

He decides to take their room keys and go ahead with the bags upstairs.

Upstairs, he’s met by a long narrow hallway with six doors, three on each side, historic brass lanterns outside of each one, producing an uneven amber glow. It’s atmospheric. He likes it, New England boy that he is.

At the end of the hallway is another impressive Christmas tree, twinkling with white lights and draped with swaths of crimson velvet. The wooden floor boards, worn smooth by years of foot traffic, creak underfoot as he steps down the hall. He discovers his and Scully’s rooms are side by side.

Just before he tries to go inside, he stops. He looks back and forth, up and down the hall.

He has the strangest feeling he’s being observed. But there’s no one there. No one he sees, anyway.

Look at you, going full on junior high ghost story, he thinks to himself. He reminds himself that Scully probably thinks he’s always full on junior high ghost story. She probably thinks her career has turned into one big junior high ghost story after another.

He unlocks his own room first, stepping inside only to get a quick lay of the land: a simple star-patterned quilt on the bed, another faux brass lantern, an old-fashioned washing stand with a pitcher, and a framed silhouette of a young woman with her hair up above the dresser. There’s no adjoining door.

He puts his bag next to the bed and goes next door to unlock Scully’s room. Her room appears to be essentially identical, a mirror image of his own, except for the quilt is a slightly different star pattern, and the silhouette above the dresser is a young man instead of a woman. He looks at the silhouette for a moment, trying from idle curiosity to decide whether he can make out if the man has a mustache.

He wheels her bag inside and sets it next to her bed, too.

He’s locking up Scully’s door, about to go back downstairs to find her, when he again has the unmistakable, creeping sensation that someone is watching him.

Come on. It’s just one of the other guests Banoy mentioned, he thinks, his eyes still firmly trained on the key in the door.

With a slowness and caution he couldn’t fully explain if asked, he turns his body towards the far end of the hall.

And that’s when he sees it.

When he sees her.

What he sees certainly appears to be a her, anyway: a woman standing at the end of the hall staring at him.

His first impulse is to reach for his phone to call Scully, to insist she come up and see, but he isn’t sure if he should move. Instead he stares back at the woman stupidly, his mouth hanging open, his hand still holding the key to Scully’s room.

The woman is wearing a long white empire waist dress and a piece of fabric drawn around her like a shawl. She has dark hair parted in the middle and curling around her face. Her expression is hard, uncompromising, calculating.

And she is transparent—there’s no other word for it, that’s what she is. She’s entirely without solid substance. Ephemeral. This fascinates Mulder. He can peer through her body to make out each point of light spangling the Christmas tree at the end of the hallway behind her. If he stepped forward and put his hand out to touch her, would it go through? A very reckless part of him would like to try.

Standing contemplating her in frozen wide-eyed fear and wonder, he wonders what to do now. More than anything he wishes Scully would come up the stairs right this second, would stand here and witness this with him.

Before he can decide how to react, the woman, much to his alarm, takes a step. Towards him. Mulder hears his breath hitch, feels the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“My love,” she whispers, ever so softly. Her voice doesn’t sound ephemeral at all. It’s husky and tremulous. “How I miss you.”

All at once, Mulder remembers the danger associated with this case—what’s happened to the victims who had reportedly seen the spectral figure. The adrenaline of fear courses through him more powerfully.

“My love,” she repeats almost tenderly, holding her hand out towards him, her fingers beckoning. “Come to me. My love.”

Mulder moves his own hand in alarm, and looks down at his chest to see his left palm instinctively covering his heart in protection. He’s breathing a little fast for sure, but he feels no other symptoms, no impending heart failure.

When he looks up again to see the woman, he’s staring at an entirely empty hallway. There’s no one there. He’s alone, clutching his vulnerable heart.

***

[jintaka-hane]

Hiiiiii 👋

First of all I love your work, and I’m so excited for your New Year’s event! Looking forward to read all the smooches 😘

If it’s okay can I request Penguin for the event pleaseee? Thank you so much! 💕

[Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event]

PENGUIN

Summary: You think you’re going to spend New Year’s Eve alone in your cabin when Penguin knocks on your door. Word count: 1000 Warning: x gn!reader; fluff; kissing All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

You know Trafalgar Law isn’t the kind of guy who’s into celebrations. You knew that when you joined his crew, and it’s never bothered you. He more than makes up for it in so many other ways, and you’re proud to serve under his command. But deep down, that night, you can’t help feeling a little sad. It’s your first New Year’s Eve aboard the Polar Tang, and you’re already anticipating that when midnight comes, you’ll be alone, asleep in your cabin.

You toy with the food on your plate during dinner, lost in thought and letting out sighs you don’t even realize. Someone who does notice, though, is Penguin, who’s been watching you closely, just as he has since the day you first set foot on the submarine.

Penguin adores you. He loves your smile, the way your lips curve upward every time you see him, and the way your eyes soften whenever he makes you laugh with one of his goofy antics. But tonight, you’re not doing any of those things. And something inside him tells him exactly why.

When dinner ends, you help clear the dishes, say goodnight to your crewmates, and head to your cabin alone. It doesn’t take long to brush your teeth, run a comb through your hair, and slip into your nightgown with a wistful sigh. Just as you pull the covers over yourself, a soft knock comes at the door, gentle, as if the person on the other side isn’t sure if you’re already asleep.

Curious, you sit up and head to the door, clutching your nightgown to cover yourself more securely before cracking it open just a few inches.

“Penguin?” Your eyes widen when you see him standing there, smiling under his cap with a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Uh… hi,” he says awkwardly, holding up a bottle of champagne and two glasses he’s probably “borrowed” from the galley. “I hope you like celebrating the new year as much as I do…”

Your face lights up with a grin so big it covers your entire face, and grabbing him by his boilersuit, you tug him into your room.

“I’ll take that as a yes…?” he chuckles.

“Yes! Penguin, I’m so happy!!!” You bounce in excitement and pull him into a tight hug. He tries to return it, but with the champagne and glasses in hand, he can only awkwardly lift his arms. Laughing, you take them from him and skip over to your nightstand to set them down. “Thank you!”

“Oh, It’s nothing,” he grins, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing even more as he realizes just how much it affects him to see you so radiant.

“There's still an hour until midnight,” you say as you place the glasses carefully on the small table, “What are we going to do until then?”

Throwing that smirk of his that you like more than you really want to admit, Penguin reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out a deck of cards, and waves them in front of your eyes.

“Cards?”

“Yes!” you clap your hands. 

Together, you grab a few blankets and pillows from your bed and arrange them on the floor to create a cozy little fort. Once you're done, the two of you settle into the blanket nest, sitting cross-legged and facing each other.

“Shall we start?,” Penguin asks, shuffling the cards and setting up two small piles between you.

The hour flies by as you play. It’s turning out to be one of the best nights of your life, laughing with him until your stomach practically hurts. You like Penguin. You like him a lot. He’s always treated you well and ensured you were as comfortable as possible aboard the submarine, despite Shachi’s constant teasing. And having him all to yourself that night feels like a dream come true.

You watch him study his cards with intense focus, catching the mischievous smirk that appears when he has a good hand. And you can’t help but wonder what his eyes hide beneath the brim of his cap every time you catch him glancing at your nightgown.

"Hey," he says, rolling up the sleeves of his boilersuit and looking at his watch. "There's one minute left until midnight."

"Oh! The bottle!" you exclaim nervously and try to stand up, but he grabs you by the arm and pulls you close to him.

"No! There's no time! And shh," Penguin laughs, motioning with his hands for you to lower your voice. "You're going to wake everyone else."

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh, and both of you lean over the watch, staring intently as the hands move in rhythm with the ticking. You're very close to each other. So close that your head nearly brushes against his cap, and both of you can feel the warmth radiating from the other.

When there are only 10 seconds left until midnight, you begin the countdown together.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” you whisper.

“Six, five, four,” he continues.

“Three, two, one…” You smile at him. “Happy N—”

Your words are drowned out by his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes widen in surprise, yet the sweet, gentle movement of his mouth on yours makes you close them and surrender to the tender, careful kiss. But it ends as quickly as it began.

“I-I’m sorry,” Penguin stammers, his blush deepening as he grabs the brim of his cap and pulls it down to shield his eyes. “I-I didn’t let you say Happy New Year...”

You stare at him, your cheeks also a shade of pink, and blink a couple of times, still too stunned to form a reply.

“Wait,” he says quickly, lifting his wrist and fiddling with the dial on his watch to turn the hands back. “I’ll rewind it five minutes so you can—hmmph.”

This time, it’s your lips silencing him as you throw yourself at him. You lean so far over him that he has to place one hand on the floor to keep his balance, and, smiling into the kiss, he brings his other hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss further.

The champagne bottle remained untouched, left forgotten, as your lips didn’t take a single moment’s rest the entire night.

Happy holidays chibinasuu!!

.........................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[candyswirls]

For the requests - can I please ask for any Gadriel fluff/smut/comfort (any of these) with fem reader? Thank you!!!

I actually don’t write smut. I got this fluffy idea almost immediately. There’s not enough old women. This kinda took a path all its own.

He huffed as he paced impatiently within his room. What was the lieutenant hiding? Even now he was resting in his quarters after collapsing when they came in contact with those marks of chaos. It was too strange. Too suspicious. He-

“Gadriel,” rasped an old voice just outside the door.

He paused in his anger.

“I know you’re in there.”

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to keep her out.

He opened his door, letting an old ad mech shuffle in with her cane. Blue lenses were dim and any bit of skin was wrinkled and leathery. Her legs squeaked.

He took a knee and assisted her getting up to sit on his bed. She stared forward, hand resting on her cane.

She patted his pauldron, “You’re still such a good boy.”

He didn’t move as she reached out and pinched a cheek.

“And still very handsome,” she added. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You know I never deny a visit from you,” the Sergeant said.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “How goes the fight?”

“We have achieved victories but we suffer the loss of our brothers,” Gadriel growled. “Lyreo and Elion… they are dead. And I wasn’t even with them.”

“You regret this decision?” She inquired. “Not like you to split up your squad.”

He scoffed, “It was not my decision. The captain has placed a lieutenant over my squad. He has my command.”

“You do not sound pleased,” she commented while rhythmically nodding. “Speak to me.”

Gadriel spoke freely, “He does things in strange ways. He is cut off and will not speak to us. I feel as though he is already disappointed with us. Condemning our actions before they have even happened! He shuts down my suggestions despite I having lead this squad before him!”

“It is always difficult to relay leadership to another,” she said. “You always found that difficult. You’ve always been ambitious. Hmm, but I sense this is not all?”

“His past is shrouded in mystery,” he exasperated. “He refuses to tell us anything. I question his motives and who he really is. He was part of the Deathwatch, a noble honor, but acts as if though it is a shame! He also collapsed upon coming across signs of the archenemy. Even now he rests in his room.”

“The captain will not listen to my concerns. He is dismissive. I know he cannot afford internal strife among the ranks and is more concerned with this war. Yet why place the Lieutenant over my squad? I have tried to consider what errors I have made to cause this decision but I am still at a loss!”

She placed a hand on his, signaling to him that it was his turn to listen.

She reached up and smoothed back some of his hair, cold metal brushing his skin.

“My poor Gadriel,” she hummed. “So many questions. So few answers. Perhaps this lieutenant is not here as a punishment to you but as a test. Maybe one from the captain. Maybe from the Omnissiah. Maybe just a simple case of clashing personalities. Do not dismiss your past accomplishments and drive.”

“But-“

“Ah, ah, ah,” she hushed. “You can’t fool me. Astartes pass all the time. Baselines even more. The passing of your squad mates is not your fault. Nor is it your lieutenant. There’s always the case of a better or different choice. We don’t always make them. This is war.”

Gadriel looked like he wanted to protest but chose not to. He wouldn’t dare argue with her solely out of respect.

“As for the suspicion,” she continued. “You are resourceful and academic. You know how to research. If others will not tell you, learn for yourself. There should be records on this Astartes. Reading to gain knowledge and learn of history is the best thing one can do for themselves.”

Gadriel nodded, “I know. You taught me that. I planned to go to the archives soon.”

“Good. I shan’t keep you long. We’ll both be headed the same direction. But I had to come see you though. I always know when one of my boys is upset.”

She cupped his cheek, “You fight hard, you follow your orders, remember the codex and what I taught you. But most of all, remember: you should enjoy fighting for the Omnissiah.”

He nodded and found himself resting his head on her lap.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “You always put me at ease. I am honored to have you as a mentor. I admit, I find physical affection embarrassing but I appreciate you speaking to me in the privacy of my room.”

She chuckled as she stroked his head, “Like I said Gadriel, I know you. Now come, help an old magos back to the archives. My shipment of new legs won’t be here for a bit and these ones are rusty.”

He helped her off the bed and offered his arm as he assisted her out.

[puppeat123]

Homicipher

Mr.Scarletella x GN reader

Wrong locker

Part 3

Quick run down-

You transferred schools and made many friends among them was Mr crawling today you will confess to him! By leaving a confession letter in his locker . However you seem to have found yourself now being observed by a certain red haired someone.

Many voted yes to giving their name to him so here we go!

"I got my umbrella we enjoy the rain together."

You smile as he pulls the umbrella over both of your heads.

It slowly started to pour almost as soon as he opened his umbrella over both of you.

"If I'm sharing my umbrella with you can I at lest get your name?"

You thought about it for a bit. He doesn't seem so much of a bad guy. He was pretty decent so far.

"My name?"

He smiled nodding waiting, anticipating for you to tell him your name.

“My name is (Y/N) “

His smile seemed to grow further.

“What a beautiful name! It fits you perfectly. Well it’s a pleasure to finally have your name.”

“Thank you! It’s noice to get to know you as well. However to think we should head back inside my classes are about to start!”

He nodded and walked you back into the dry building. Once you got back into the building you saw Mr.crawling running at both of you with full speed.

He was not slowing down and was Be lining it to you. You tried to move but he just seemed to be focused on getting you. Mr.Scarletella seemed amused. He smile faded.

But now he was to close to move in which thankfully he suddenly stopped and pulled you towards him.

“Wooah!”

“I told you already stay away from her you creep!”

He started pointing at Mr.Scarletella.

“Mr.Crawling it’s okay! He just came to apologize for earlier. He was walking me in because it started pouring!”

Mr.Scarletella looked slightly annoyed and a flash or something else in his eyes.

“Are you two together?” He asked in a monotone voice.

Mr.Crawling quickly pulled himself of you and quickly looked away. You couldn’t tell from your perspective but his face was red! Your face got warm quickly.

“No. We are not together we are friends.” You stated in a nervous quiet voice feeling as though the words almost got stuck in your throat. However Mr.Scarletella saw all of it, he knew Mr.Crawling intentions.

Mr.Scarletella hummed in understanding, giving you a quick smile.

“Well then I don’t believe he should mind if we hanging out. Is that correct Mr.Crawling?”

Mine not yours.

It sounded almost like he was mocking him. Mr.Crawling more than anything Mr. Crawling's shoulders slumped over a bit nearly like he was getting smaller.

You looked at Mr.Crawling and could see how uncomfortable he was he meant no harm. Mr.Crawling gave a small hm of approval.

"If Mr.Crawling doesn't trust you why should I? He knows more about you than I do"

The statement threw both of them off a little. It made Mr.Crawling straighten up a bit and it made Mr.Scarletella smile changing into something you couldn't quite place.

"How so? Do you not think I am trustworthy? I am good. I’m not bad.”

It was almost as if the other student disappeared under Mr.Scarletella's piercing gaze staring between the two, he hummed acknowledging the statement but still standing against it.

“I’m not bad, I am good.” He repeated as if he was chewing it and spitting it out.

Me good. You give name.

He was confused, he gave you a untampered bottle of your favorite juice.

“I gave you juice.”

Give water you consume.

You thought about it yes he did give you juice but why is everyone stepping aside for him. Everyone is scared of him. It was rumored he is the one behind the killings.

“..”

“I will show you.”

He walked away. You and Mr.crawling didn’t encounter him the whole day after that. However you both felt a chilling sensation that you were being watched.

It was the end of the day and time to go home. It was started raining again. You had your rain coat on but no umbrella. It was so windy and raining so hard you had to have both in order to not get soaked. Mr.Crawling had an umbrella but no rain coat. You let him get an extra rain coat you carried with you in care of emergencies.

His hair was out of the ponytail, and went down almost to his waist. Two little stands of hair picking out on each side of his face. His hair was so much to filled up his hood looking a bit silly.

Drawing by me(it was quick cause we ball)

You both lived in to opposite sides of town. Which is what also made a difference cause you didn’t want him walking back in forth in the rain possibly get sick. You decided to thug it out.

“No it’s okay Mr.crawling! You can go home I promise!”

His eyebrows knotted barely visibly by the hair covering his face at all times.

“but it’s to windy the wind will blow away your coat! You should at lest let me walk you there! I have both I will be fine!!”

You shake your head not wanting the kind man to get sick because of you.

“No I appreciate it but I really don’t want you to get sick! Just text me when you get home!”

You started runing out knowing the man couldn’t follow you knowing he struggled with his legs a bit sometimes needing a cane or wheel chair to get around.

He hated them tho so much cause he thought they where unnecessary if he could get around crawling either way.

The tall man sighed softly in frustration but smiled a bit. White day was around the corner, 4 more days, he was looking foward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>>>>𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹<<<<~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You ran far enough so that you couldn’t see the school anymore which wasn’t hard cause of how hard it was raining it was easy for it to get lost.

You stopped running for a bit trying to catch your breath but it being hard to do so with the rain getting in your face treating to enter your nose.

You started coughing when the water did start getting in your mouth and nose. You kept coughing and struggling to breath as each breath was just out of reach almost as if it was being stolen from you by the rain. Mr.crawling was right maybe you should have let him walk you home.

You started stumbling around leaning forward which made you stop in your tracks making sure you where on the side walk and bent over trying to get the rain to stop getting in your face.

The building of offices and shops seemed to concave around you.

Now you where struggling to breath panicking.

It continued to pour all around you but the rain seemed to stop getting in your way. Allowing you to cough out the water that was getting in your lungs.

You where finally get to breath and catch your breath.

After fully being able to breath in you slowly start noticing that a shadow was over you.

You look up to see the Mr.Scarletella standing over you with his crimson umbrella looking down at you with a concerned look on his face.

Troubled? Hurt?

“Are you okay?” He lowers down to your bent over body.

You nodded still coughing while trying to push him away.

Which only made him followed you with his umbrella while you stumbled forward.

“You are not okay. Do you want help?”

You wanted to say yes but couldn’t simply nodding slowly. He stood there covering you with his umbrella patting your back had you stopped coughing but continued to catch your breath.

“Do you live around this area?” You state after finally catching your breath.

“I do, I wasn’t aware you also lived around here,”

You slowly stood up straight which he followed you with. He stood out a lot in the rain, he wore a red leather trench coat, the red made him stand out in the rain almost as if he was casting a red glow all around him. Mr.Scarletella towered over you they same way Mr.Crawling did however he was a bit taller then Mr.Crawling.He seemed to be analyzing your expression. One of his eyes was always covered by his red hair. His usual calm expression.

Me want you.

You give name.

You walked home yesterday and didn’t see him around. Could he be lying?

“I usually stay behind after school for extra hours.I went home early today.”

He stated as if reading your mind.

“Oh, so where do you live at?”

“I can show you, are you going to continue walking that path?”

He pointed forward. You hmmed in approval.

“Okay follow me”

He said while still holding the umbrella over both of you and started walking. After a few what felt like 20 minutes of silence he spoke once again.

“So do you live with your family?”

“No, I got a place near the school because dorms where to expensive for me.”

He nodded, “I understand. I personally didn’t like the fact I had to share a room with someone else so I did the same.”

You finally make it to your apartment complex. It was a very old building. It was concrete all over with signs of weather and normal wear and tear. However you didn’t get to see his place.

“I live in the same complex.”

He seemed to be shocked.

Me know.

You were pretty shocked as well.

“Well I guess we are neighbors.how come I never see you in the morning?”

“I like to leave the house early.”

Makes sense why he had such dark circles. You both walked into the building and stopped near your door.

“Hm well I appreciate you walking me home. Thank you for letting me use your umbrella.”

You say awkwardly trying to not let him see into your place. You needed to clean it up a bit, but still small messes made you feel embarrassed either way!

“No problem it was my pleasure being able to help you and make sure you get home safe. I hope we see each other around school.”

Me like you.

“Yup! Byeee cyaaa” you say before closing your door and locked it so fast.

You settled down and remember that you told Mr.Crawling to text you.

You pull your phone up ready to text him back.

You quickly shower and change your clothes. You Picked out the most comfy house clothes and continued on with your day. Today was a lazy day it’s too dark to do anything cause of the rain.

So you throw yourself on the coach.

Crawling ~ Im home :)

You~ im glad you made it home safe! How was the walk cause it was raining like crazy!

You turned on the TV for some background noise placing the remote on the coffee table. while you watched TikTok’s and read online.

You don’t notice the red eye staring at your from outside your windows and peephole.

Mine.

~~~~✨🌙~~~🌙✨

You wake up unknowingly falling asleep on your couch. You realize your alarm clock didn’t ring. Oh my god you’re going to be late to classes!!

Well it dosnt matter anyways it’s collage.

Plus what say is it today? Saturday? Yup you didn’t have any classes that day!

You sit up properly and look around you. The TV was still on your phone was on the floor with one text notification from Mr.Crawling your backpack on the floor.

Today was also supposed to be trash day. You looked outside your window to see an empty trash bin.

Thank god cause you had a whole lot more trash to throw away.

You needed to get more clothes you had a few cute shirts and pants but nothing that really fit right anymore and cute.

You also had some spoiled food here and there. Just have to make sure the house is clean! You went ahead and throw it out in a bag in the dumpster.

You closet was a bit empty now looking at it and so we your fridge.

Shopping time!

*time skip cause shopping kinda boring*

You arrive back to at apartment complex. You end up bumping into Mr.Sarletella. It seemed like he was in his way out.

“Doing some shopping I see?”

“Yes I had to buy a few things.” You say while trying to find your keys.

“Did you get the good news from the complex office?”

Found it! It was at the bottom of your pockets!

“No, what happened?”

“They are saying that rent might decrease due to how old the property is. Not to mention how empty it is.”

“Oh aww that’s really cool! I can’t wait thank you so much!” You unlocked your door and waved him good bye.

You started looking for some iteams you left. Your pretty sure you left them on your bed room floor.

They might have gone in the trash bag as well. Other stuff was missing too might have just thrown it out. Got to happy throwing old stuff away you suppose.

Not noticing the bag that you threw in the dumpster was torn apart with clothing items missing or the fact your window was opened by a bit when it was closed all the way down.

What else is missing in your place?

Did you leave your sweater there before you left?who knows you where doing a lot before you left!

what else will go missing?

Was that red thread on your carpet? You don’t have many red clothes besides 2 tops and maybe some shoes or like 2 bottoms.

You feel like something is off but you can’t quite tell maybe it’s just been a long week!

Maybe you didn’t see the piecing red eyes staring at you from your slightly a jarred window either.

//————/////————///——————///—————//

Thank you so much for reading sorry for the slow updates!! I’ve been busy with work and finally have been having some down time to actually relax but I will finish the story trust and believe!! I’ve been writing small moments/ head canons kinda things so those will be out soon hopefully!

Hope to see you on the next up date!

Previous chapter:

[denizenhardwick]

trk ch 11 is such a brilliant chapter on so many levels. here is an in-depth analysis.

tw rape

the chapter starts with kevin buying neil a heavy racquet. we learn that heavies are popular with defense, that riko uses one, and that goalie racquets are even heavier. this is setup for both later in the chapter and the end of the third book.

neil and andrew's conversation in the store is absolutely loaded. it also has neil seriously questioning the narrative about andrew that we have been uncritically fed by literally everyone for two books at this point, that he's violent and dangerous to others. he has noticed the way no one really treats andrew like a full person, how they're always more concerned by protecting other people from him than any danger he might be in, and he's frustrated by it.

this is massively, MASSIVELY important. neil came into the story with the same view of andrew that everyone else has and therefore that view has been largely treated as fact by the narrative; neil has realized it might not be true at this point, enough for the readers to know, but he hasn't fully let go of the notion of andrew as the aggressor. keep that in mind.

there's also this bit. which they decide could mean nothing but is important to their whole Thing.

when they get to nicky's parents' house, neil tries to leave the racquet in the car, but andrew grabs it, saying he's going to vandalize luther's car with it. he lets nicky take it, nicky hands to back to neil, and neil brings it into the house.

at this point, the tension is palpable. andrew and aaron are standing side-by-side for the first time. neil, kevin, and the audience are all outsiders, and there's a lot of weight to this dinner. we have nicky's story, that's our main context, and he's talked about aaron as well, but andrew is still a complete enigma. we largely know about him from what other people have said, his behavior seems nonsensical and erratic, and he's made no attempt to share his side of the story, presumably because he doesn't care enough.

that's the perception of andrew that's been built over the past book and a half. andrew is the aggressor. he is violent, dangerous to others, and completely apathetic to pretty much everything. he doesn't care.

the interactions with nicky's parents are uncomfortable on every front, but there's also another level of strangeness that neil picks up on but can't understand because of lack of context:

luther is not interested in reconciling with nicky. he's more interested in andrew.

and then they sit down for dinner. the hemmicks each take one end, and there are three chairs on each side: nicky takes the middle on one side, with aaron sitting next to him as a buffer between him and his mom, and neil and kevin take the other side with andrew between them. neil comments in the narration that they do this to keep an eye on andrew. what is a defensive, protected position for nicky is used to keep andrew constrained.

andrew is the threat here. he's the aggressor.

they talk, the conversation goes sideways, aaron steps up to ask neutral questions until nicky calms down, and then andrew leaves the table.

neil values nicky's conversion with his mom, thinks it's important but doesn't personally care about it so we the audience don't get to read it. which is absolutely baffling the first time you read this, because this chapter is supposed to be about nicky. it's about his attempt to reconcile with his mom! right? right???

it's not. and the chapter is starting to show its hand and cue you into that. because neil is thinking about andrew. he accepts but doesn't care about nicky's reconciliation; he is deeply invested in whatever andrew is talking about with luther and is already thinking about how he can get andrew to tell him later since the eavesdropping isn't working. but also, look at how neil is thinking about andrew here.

"if luther screamed in pain they'd hear it no matter how loud nicky and maria were."

he is still thinking of andrew as the threat! he is worried that andrew might hurt luther! this is such aggressive framing with a book and a half to back it up and only a couple passages of doubt. andrew is the aggressor.

after a while, neil gets concerned that andrew is making good on his threat earlier to destroy luther's car, but his racquet hasn't been moved and andrew is nowhere to be found. maria says that he's speaking to drake, and luther reveals that this whole dinner was set up by drake.

neil puts the pieces together immediately and launches into action with an almost mindless efficiency. and then the narrative shifts, just a bit.

"either drake was dead or andrew was in serious trouble."

he grabs aaron (literally grabs him, and picks aaron solely because he was closer to neil than kevin was), grabs his racquet, and books it up the stairs. he doesn't tell us what he's thinking, he doesn't have time. his singular mission right now is to make sure andrew is okay, because while it does occur to him that drake might be dead he sure as hell isn't planning on using the racquet against andrew.

i love this section a lot. this is neil in his element, completely focused and streamlined. he identifies what kind of wood the door is made of on sight and doesn't elaborate; presumably, because this is something he's done many, many times in his life. he also instinctively calls what he sees a "fight" before he actually processes what he's seeing, because that's what he was expecting, that's what he has experience with.

he was expecting mafia. we were all expecting mafia. the book is about to talk about sexual abuse in the foster system.

it's shocking. there's no way you could have seen this coming and, as is the style of these books, it just throws you in the deep end and keeps going.

this scene is extremely hard to read, because of the content and because of the way the prose changes because of it. neil has a very unique narrative voice. he's very to-the-point, he doesn't use figurative language very often, he hones in on what he finds important to the exclusion of everything else.

this is remarkably vivid sensory detail for neil. the image is burned into his head, everything slows down, he's possibly going into shock. he describes what he's seeing. he notes every little noise and speculates on what it is. and the words he uses are visceral and uncomfortable.

the heavy length of his body. ear-deep in a blood-splattered pillow. ghostly white and bloodless. a wet crunch. blood sloshed against the wall. a meaty thud.

neil does not describe anything in this much detail. that juxtaposition makes what is already a very graphic and disturbing scene even more jarring and impactful for the audience.

he also describes what he is hearing as "[his] world crashing down around him" or saying it "had the entire world tilting underneath his feet."

we hear kevin's reaction, neil walks through the whole thing without even turning to look because he is intently focused on pulling the sheet up to cover andrew because it's important to him to give andrew as much privacy as he can, even if it isn't much.

with that, i have reached my image limit, so stay tuned for part 2.

[cel-aerion]

Alright, so, while (re)watching First Nights at Freddy’s, I noticed that there are at least a couple instances of MatPat’s character and Glitchtrap saying similar things or expressing similar sentiments:

-“You wanted to force my hand, didn’t you? Be careful what you wish for.” / “Force my hand, and you’ll pay.”

-“I drove away the light ‘til I was numb.” / “I didn’t really understand the concept [of evil] at first, but the more I watched you sniveling skinbags, all your lies and hypocrisy and corruption, the more I embraced it.”

-Both have instances where they reply to one character telling another, “I’ll be right behind you,” with “No, you won’t.” This one feels especially notable, since the musical is basically bookended by these scenes.

So this got me thinking, maybe there’s more of a link between these two than there appears to be.

So, spoilers and random headcanons under the cut.

So here’s what we know, or at least what we can infer:

-When William Afton was killed, Henry had already killed or attempted killing, as shown by the fact that when William found the Crying Child, he already knew what was going on and what Henry's intention was.

-Presumably, this was after Glitchtrap had been locked away, otherwise no one would have been there to do it.

-Despite apparently being created for personal use, Glitchtrap actually resided in a company computer, or else wiping the old files wouldn't have freed him. Which means that it's possible Henry was aware of him in some way.

-Henry was shown to have a wedding ring*, suggesting he has, or at least had, a family - probably the latter, since he switches identities so easily.

*I am fully aware this is probably just because MatPat doesn't tend to take his actual wedding ring off. I also don’t care, because I’m having fun. Besides, I would hope that MatPat, of all people, would appreciate someone looking into tiny details and coming up with explanations for them

-Therefore, it's probable that at some point, Henry *lost* that family. We don't get any confirmation of this, or any indication that he ever had a kid, but Henry Emily did have a child who died young in the FNAF novels - this is not evidence that it happened in the musical, of course, but it at least supports that possibility.

So consider:

William has this advanced AI on a company computer. Henry, who's lost a child of his own in the past, somehow learns of the suggestion made to William to “replace his dead child with one of the many unsupervised kids flocking to his family diner each day” - perhaps William talks to him about this AI, maybe Henry stumbled on it accidentally, but either way, unlike William, he likes the idea. Maybe he tries straight kidnapping at first, then killed when the child was uncooperative, discovering he enjoyed it, or maybe he took it too far from the start. Either way, that’s what starts him on that path.

When Glitchtrap first appears, he mentions the murders in the restaurant, though he thinks they were done by William (“Or [take] your uncle, an upstanding business manager, using his restaurant as cover to murder kids in his spare time.”). Which suggests two things: That there is evidence of the murders on the computer - also supported by the fact that Henry wanted the old files wiped clean - and that Glitchtrap is still aware of what's going on in the computer system, even if he doesn't know who's actually adding it.

(Side note, but this probably added to Glitchtrap’s frustrations: Imagine being locked away for your ideas being “too extreme”, only to have your jailer then go even more extreme.)

All this is to say, it's possible that, even though they didn't really know each other, Glitchtrap was influenced/shaped by Henry, even if just because Henry was using that computer under William’s name, and Glitchtrap was picking up on what he left behind.

This also offers a possible backstory for Henry. The closest we get to learning his motivations are his lines in Dark Remains, and though they don’t really say anything about what that motivation is, the song implies that he was driven to it and it was a conscious decision, he wasn’t just dark from the start. If he thought doing so would restore his family in some way, or if he failed in that and started looking for retribution instead… well.

...

Subtheory That I’m Not Really Serious About but Think Would Be Interesting: Imagine if Henry and William were partners in more than one way, and so the child lost in the car accident was one they both lost. This is thrown off because Glitchtrap mentions that William lost his child and wife in that accident. But this idea hopped in my brain before I remembered that line, and I was too amused, so I wanted to share anyways.

[agoodfriendtoyou]

This post infected my brain and I had to write something(apparently 1.5 times since tumblr had to delete my reblog halfway through me typing it, but we persist):

The bard class has a media party to celebrate the end of the school year. It’s basically a night where the students get to show plays, perform songs, or just show off any sort of art they enjoy. Yippee creative celebration!

Azura comes up and decides to show the(at the point of the mid 2040s, which is approximately when nextgen takes place according to my math) Vintage movie Kubo and the Two Strings. She gives a simple synopsis, explains how it was animated, and that it’s a movie from the human realm. Cue Niko calling human plays bad, then the bard teacher telling them to be quiet and enjoy what their classmates have to share with them.

Azura puts the DVD in, for the sake of this blurb I’ll say it’s an illusion powered projector that accepts both human and demon realm media storage.

The movie starts, and it’s alright. The style of the “movie” is unique, and the narration is nicely voiced. The idea of creating motion through stringing together many pictures of puppets with slightly different poses, “stop motion” as Half A Witch calls it, is interesting, even if ridiculously inefficient compared to magic.

Then the movie shows a young boy, Kubo, having to take care of his mother. It’s shows how even though he tries to make her smile, she doesn’t even look at him.

Niko feels so overwhelmed, but also seen. A human movie shouldn’t make them feel this way, it shouldn’t be able to understand them like nobody else ever has. Yet it does.

They feel vulnerable.

Too vulnerable.

They have to go.

╭ ── ⋅⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅⋅ ── ╯

Azura didn’t really pay attention to Niko’s comment about her movie choice, she learned to tune their commentary out a while ago. But when she looked around at her classmates to gauge their reactions to the movie, she couldn’t help but notice how Niko began to look… scared? Or were they sad?

It was hard to pinpoint the felling by their expression alone, but the second Niko saw her looking at the tears forming in their eyes, they jumped from their desk and ran out the door.

The teacher tried calling for Niko, but they left far too fast.

“You all enjoy the movie, I’ll go get Ni—”

“I’ll go.” Azura interjected. “I’ve already watched this movie before, so it’s not like I’ll miss anything new.”

“Are you sure, Miss Noceda?” The teacher tried to ask, but Azura was already out the door.

2 Be Continued. Probably not now that I think about it.

(That’s all I got Fran, hopefully I didn’t mischaracterize your fellas. Feel free to write a proper ending to this lol)

Niko watches Kubo and the two strings and cries

[caramelstupid]

Uuuuugh a buddy of mine wants to read the lord of the rings in english (i think he got the german Version. He also has never managed to sit through a Single movie. Fuck off) (I got him a spotify link and the substack link!!!! Options!!! Free even!!!) But he kinda invited himself over to go get MY personal Edition and i didnt know how to say no and. Now he has my edition of lotr and i want it BACK do i just buy him one as a late christmas present. Like no sir thats my book qwq u will take forever to read it cause like u dont read. Give it back thats my 50 years special Hardcover U WONT EVEN APPRECIATE IT AAAAAAH. I never lend out books because people have a terrible track record and now someone has my favourite book and i HATE it but also. How do i get it back. And when. In a year????? How do i get it back without sounding like a complete asshole or toddler. Sir please learn to read social cues i was visibly UNHAPPY dont do that qwq

[higuchisora]

Can I say that I didn't really like the Seven of prophecy as a group and felt like their only value as characters from a writing standpoint is to add diversity to the PJO series and that they don't really feel necessary without the rep they add and some of them feel purely constructed to fill archetypal roles/tropes instead of being constructed as whole characters with an actual function in the narrative that no other character could fill or will I be sacrificed at the stake for it

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt: Danny is Chronos' first child.

Well, not his first child biologically, to be completely honest.

It just so happened that the Phantom very often helped/helps/will help Clockwork at different times and his presence next to the titan required an explanation.

And the opportunity to call Zeus a little brother is worth a lot, right? So when the Ancient came up with this idea Phantom did not resist just to have such a pleasant bonus from their cooperation.

However, in the time of the gods and heroes, such a solution was not a problem. But in modern times, when Phantom tries to attract as little attention as possible in order to graduate from university, such relatives are more likely to cause a lot of problems.

~~~~~

Wonder Woman: Uncle Danny?

Superman, who wanted to chase away a teenager serenely strolling through still smoking battlefield, turns to Wonder Woman, who is waving affably at excactly this guy.

Well, Fenton honestly happened to be in Fawcett City by accident, and it just so happened that by chance it was on this sunny and cloudless day that the villains decided to cause riots worthy of the attention of the founders of the Justice League.

Danny: Diana! My dear, it seems like we really haven't seen each other not for a long time! In what century was it? Ah, I honestly, I barely remember it... The speed at which children grow up defies the laws of time. I mean, look at you! Your mother must be so proud. How's Dad? Still not paying child support, arrogant bastard?

Wonder Woman: Oh, uncle, please. I'm all grown up now, don't worry about me.

Danny: Hm, well, let's get back to this question later. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends. Anyway, would you like to introduce them, little princess?

Wonder Woman: Of course, meet Kal El, Batman, and Shazam. The rest of the guys have already returned to our base. Would you like to...

Danny: Ooh, you're talking about, um... What do you young people call it? The Justice League, right? During my youth, the heroes rarely united and mostly performed all the feats alone. It's good that you help each other, kids.

Danny flies up a little to pat Superman and Batman on the head.

Under the Diana's gaze full of hope that they will get along with her uncle, the men do not move.

In the background:

Red Hood and Robin who used to hang out with Danny near the Lazarus pits: *sounds of seagulls dying of laughter*

~~~~~

Flash: So you're Diana's uncle?

Danny: Yes, call me Danny.

Flash: Cool, cool...

Danny: What does the temperature have to do with it? Do you need ice? Let me make some for you.

Flash: No, it's like,um, I didn't know that Zeus has a younger brother with that name. So, it's good to know?

Danny: Hmm, thanks. Many people tell me that I look quite young, hah. But actually I'm his older brother, so...

Flash: Older? Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect.

Danny: No, it's all right. It's "cool". I rarely appear on the pages of your human myths and legends, I know it. After all this business about Chronos devours his own children, my father punished me for a long time. So, yeah...It's a funny story.

Flash: Punished for what? How?

Danny: Uh, sitting in a room at a time when there is no Internet or electricity is not fun at all. You see, I just didn't want a younger brother or sister because I was afraid that my parents would pay less attention to me. So, I made up this stupid prophecy and persuaded Gaea to tell it in order to remain the only child in the family. My father would never have thought that I would decide to kill him, that's why...Phah, it's just a bad family story. In 10 thousand years, we'll all laugh about it.

Flash: Yeah, that's... funny.

~~~~

Danny *is woken up by an emergency call from the League at three in the morning, although he fell asleep at two o'clock* (he gave his contact so as not to upset his niece): I knew this would happen! I knew it!

~~~~

Billy Batson *stands in his human form in front of the Justice League and doesn't know what to say*,*sweating nervous*.

Danny *enters the hall*: What's up, mortals, Diana and...Batman? My father said that there is something that I have to be here for. Oh! Well, at least someone in this family is also a shapeshifter. Have you decided to make a younger form so that your uncle doesn't feel lonely? What a good boy! Usually everyone is so afraid to seem like children, once they turn a couple of centuries old. Ah, youth~

Billy: Yeah, I decided to..experiment? and it seems I got stuck by accident.

Danny: It's okay, Uncle Danny will help you. Come on, let's go...

~~~~

Danny *teleports them to the Fawcett City*.

Billy: ....

Danny:

Billy: Hey, I'm still stuck!

A new portal opens and a man in a purple cape hands Billy a note. "Go to Constantine. P.S., my son always completes all assignments only by half, sorry." written on it.

Billy: Oh... OoOhHh!!!

~~~~

Meanwhile, Constantine, who is forced to do additional work: Son of a bi... beloved and respected Master of Time.

Danny: Yeap, that's me.

Constantine: Damn it. Couldn't you just let Batman adopt him like in other timelines?

Danny: And where's the fun in that?

[lunarcrossingart]

"Until you are dead, I can't get married."

The sharp end of a sword tilted towards me as my younger sibling stood in trembled reverence. I had grown a lot bigger since my parents sealed me in this cave, but somehow, he still felt the same to me.

"Can't or won't?" I did my best to let my thundering voice be a soft purr in the cavern. The trinkets I had been given over the years clinked together regardless of how gentle I was. It came with the territory of being a monster.

His eyes held mine and his lip snarled. I gave an airy chuckle as I lifted my head and writhed my slender body. Within a blink he realized that I had blocked his exit. Yet, he never wavered in his footing as he tried to calculate how to reach my head again. It was clear he'd have to climb up my scales to even get that close.

Pitiful, really.

"Brother of mine, you can kill me, but under one condition." I grinned big and toothy. Each fang I had was far sharper than the sword Father and Mother gave him. There was no contest who was to die in our fight.

"You must spend seven days and seven nights with me, live as I live, eat what I eat, and do what I do. As soon as the eighth sun rises, then and only then, will I let you kill me."

"Do you accept?"

"I… Yes. I accept." He lowered his sword and looked at me with disdain. "What will you do first?"

—

I curled the tip of my tale to my chin and tapped the horns growing there softly. To be honest, I hadn't thought this out that far, but an idea found its way to me.

"First, introductions." I lowered my tail to his face and extended it towards him, "I am assuming Father and Mother named you, correct?"

"... Yes." He hesitated but ultimately accepted my 'handshake'. "I am Prince Zmija, second to the throne."

What.

"Second to the throne…?" I tilted my head, "Surely you are the first."

"Well I'm not, you are." He huffed and tossed away my tail. He continued to chatter as I watched the arch of my tail. I didn't want to break another part of my home and flicked it out of sight underneath my unending body. Actually, how long was I now? Surely the size of a small village with how many times I had to coil up in-

"Hey, are you even listening?!" Whoops. I turned my attention back to my brother and shook my head. He gave a light scoff.

"What did Father and Mother call you? Surely, it is more creative than my name."

"Nothing." When I spoke those words, I noticed it didn't hurt to admit that anymore. When there was silence, I assumed the conversation was over, and began to curl up for a nap. I had closed my eyes when he spoke up again.

"Nothing? As in, they named you 'nothing'?" He asked. I heard the shuffle of his feet towards the mouth of the cave. With a heavy sigh, I lifted away what kept him here.

"If you wish to learn my name then you must enter my village. You must do as I do, and introduce yourself to each person. When night falls, I want you back here, so we may eat."

"However," I peeked an eye open, "You must tell me the name of each villager you've met. That way, I know you've done as I asked. Then and only then, will I tell you my name."

"And if I don't?" He asked, a foot already out the 'door'.

"Then I will find you, and I will eat you instead." I closed my eye and yawned. Today was tiring. "Do you accept?"

…

"Yes. I accept."

—

"Brother, I have returned."

I opened my eyes and saw the glow of my stare on the ground. The fire behind my eyes was dimmer than yesterday. That was normal as of late. Soon there would be a thick film over it. I rose again in my small home to meet my younger brother.

"Welcome home." My tongue flicked out and tasted the meat in the air. "Have you brought our meal?"

"Yes." He held the side of a nervous steer. A bag placed over its head and more bags placed onto its back. My brother began to unpack the animal and relieve it from its load.

"And who's to thank for lending you their horse?"

"Lending?" He asked, baffled, "I mean, aren't you eating this animal?"

"No." The hiss in my voice made him jump, "Just because Jan has given it freely to me does not mean I will take it."

"How did you know that Jan gave you this horse?" My brother, Zmija I think, dumped the bags of food onto a woven mat.

"The villagers give me lots of things." I inched closer to him, watching bright fruits and cheese decorate the ground. "To many nice things, honestly."

"This-," Zmija huffed as he unloaded another bag, "This can't be enough for something your size!"

"It's not." I wrapped my tongue around some bread that caught my attention. Gone within a lick. I didn't even know what it tasted like. "But I find I do not need much. Food sits in me longer than it would a human."

"Now, besides Jan, who else provided for us tonight?" I asked, I rooted out the foods that I used to love as a kid, and reminded myself to leave space for Zmija.

He accepted the invitation more readily than I thought. Everyone must have put in a good word for me. As they should. I've given them no reason otherwise.

"Well, there was Ewa who made the bread, and this older person- shit what was his name?" He broke apart pieces of the dried meat, making himself a sandwich. I smiled.

"Was he a short, stocky guy?"

"No, that was Barnaba, this guy was taller. He looks like he could be Ewa's spouse but instead he-"

"Instead, Piotr is her childhood best friend."

"Yes, and Piotr actually likes this man-"

"Don't tell me he's still pining after the Blacksmith."

"Ok, but have you seen the muscles on Mariusz? I get it." He nodded sagely at me as he plucked an nut from the pile. "But you see, Mariusz actually likes this other person-"

I let Zmija talk and tell me about his day. Whenever he would begin to blank on a name, I'd supplement. The town was small and the people frequently visited me. The list was completed before I gobbled up the last pile of provisions.

"Your name." Zmija started, "What did Father and Mother name you?"

I paused, understanding the misunderstanding. Then I ate again once I mulled over my thoughts.

"You were the only one they named, Zmija." I licked away a crumb in my eye, "But I call myself Lindworm. That is the name you will use to return the horse tomorrow morning, and the name that demands all available milk they have to.offer. You are to do what I do and take the milk from the village."

"Do you accept?"

Something thoughtful crossed Zmija's face.

"Yes. I accept."

—

During the night I had expected Zmija to make an attempt on my life. Yet, after the draw of his blade, I only felt the palm of his hand on my snout. Unconsciously, he rubbed the spot.

"... I can't even remember the last time I had company for dinner. Let alone eat with family."

How pitiful.

—

As the cold nears, I've been sleeping more. 

Bits of my day fade in and out like wind against the land. I do not remember when my brother left, but I do recall when he returned. While I could no longer see him, I could taste him and the milk in the air. I lifted my head up and looked at the moving blob.

"Have you returned with the milk?"

"Yes." Zmija's voice hardly echoes in the cave. "The villagers said that they would help me tomorrow… but what are they helping me with, Lindworm?"

"I will tell you, but first you must help me initiate my task."

The blob moved away from the light and I swiveled to keep track of him. The shadows and shapes were too hard to tell apart. I couldn't see what he held in his hands.

"And if I don't?"

He echoed those words again.

"If it is consequences you want, then it is consequences I will give." I lifted my head until it touched the ceiling. The water on the stalactite dripped over my eye and down my chin. I suppose I look rather threatening with clouded eyes as I heard a pot shatter.

"I am to shed my scales. This process can take from three days to five days. You will attend to me for its entirety." 

"With the villagers, you will  bathe me in milk and collect each skin I shed. Once I have shed my seventh skin, then and only then I will divulge what you are helping the villagers with."

"Do you accept?"

There was quiet between us.

"... I need time to think about this."

"If you do not return tonight, then I will find you, and I will eat you instead."

"... Very well then." He responded.

I watched the blob, Zmija, exit through the light.

—

Thousands of tiny needles prick at my consciousness. The sensation was more annoying than painful. I rubbed my face against the cavern wall, but it was smoothed from the years I had lived here. I had considered using the ceiling but that was before my friends started to give me their items to safeguard and keep.

No one really thinks to steal from a thing like me.

Plenty have tried. All have failed.

Now, my father and mother have decided to deal with me in the only way they knew. 

How pitiful.

"Lindworm?" Zmija called from the entrance. More blobs were with him. Their torches bright in the dark night.

"Do you have an answer for me?" I carefully unfurled for my guests. Many villagers were already dowsing the rags in the milk.

"Yes. I accept." I assumed he patted my nose after he said that. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Like clockwork, everyone lined my body with rags full of milk, and let it soak on the weak points of my skin. I had asked Zmija to place the ladden fabric over my eyes and so I could peacefully drift off.

The sharpening of a blade stirred me awake.

"Brother, is that you?"

The whetstone stops…

"Yes."

Huh. 

"Why are you still here? Surely this entire space stinks to the high heavens."

"Well," Zmija drawled, putting the sword down somewhere, "You said to do as you do so… I'm also doing the milk thing."

Something like a laugh escaped my mouth.

"What! We're brothers, right?" Zmija stammered, "Maybe I also have some magic properties too like fertilizer hair! Or something!"

"Ah, they told you?" I asked. No need to mention that I was referring to the villagers.

"Yes, incredible to think your sheds fertilizes acres of land."

"And grows our flowers."

"Huh?"

I felt an itch in my insides. There was an uncomfortable pack of air that was making its way down my throat. I didn't think I would talk about this so soon.

"Are we alone, Zmija?" I tried to taste the air, but all I could smell was spoiled milk.

"Yes."

"Did mother tell you how we were born?"

"... No. She didn't like to talk about it."

"Do you want to know? It will help with what I will ask of you next."

The quiet. He thought a lot.

"Yes. I want to know why you are a person in a monster's skin and I… a monster in a person's skin."

Oh… I hadn't thought about that before. Granted, I didn't realize Zmija had been hurt by our parents too. Knowing what they did to me, I could only imagine the cruelty they had shown to him.

"Monsters don't know they're monsters, they think they're heroes." I shifted to scratch my side against the wall, but my skin hardly moved. "Righteousness is a dangerous thing, Zmija. People will do a lot to feel that way."

He didn't reply so I continued.

"Our parents needed children to inherit the throne but they were barren. Instead of accepting this fact, they continued to look for a way to conceive biological children."

"Mom said she wanted to have kids. It-it wasn't some political plan."

A weak rebuttal.

"If that was true, she would have taken in children who are in need. Plenty of children go without their parents and could use a home. Many of them find their way to me, but you know this."

I shifted my jaw to relieve a tightness there.

"If she wanted children, you and I would have been raised side by side. We weren't. I was locked here instead and now she's sent you to hide her shame. This was never about you or me. This is her story."

I clicked my teeth together, I had rehearsed this many times to whoever lent an ear, but it felt clunky as I explained to my brother. There wasn't enough that I knew that I could give to him as a solid answer. He'd remain hungry to know the whys as much as I starve for them.

"She consumed two bewitched flowers to conceive us. When I came into the world, malshapened and horrid, she was appalled. Believing to have been played for a fool. However, she claims that my form was not her fault. She placed the blame on the old crone who told her about the flowers."

"What happened to the old woman?"

"I wish I knew." A twinge went along my spine. "When she had you, well, you were what she wanted. To her disappointment, I had the birthright, and the entire kingdom already knew of us. She put me here and hoped I died."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't only because people cared for me. I am sure it is the same for you too."

Another quiet, this time I welcomed it.

"So… these flowers make kids like us?"

"I don't know."

A part of my body flipped over but it was far away from where I thought Zmija was.

"Like her, I also eat the flowers too to sustain myself. I have done so for years now. I assume, since I lack a womb, the magic has no vessel to escape to."

"Except in your sheds of skin."

"Yes."

"But no one knows what the flowers do, not even you Lindworm."

…

"What do the flowers look like?"

"One is luscious and the other is withered." I paused, "You'll know them when you see them."

"And you need them?"

"No." A lie.

"But it is the only thing that I can think of to get rid of them." A truth.

…

"I'll get them for you." Zmija decided.

"Thank you, brother." I went to settle in again-

A snap.

I try to lift my head to the sound, but I am too weak. There's a hand on my snout and I smell the oil from Zmija's sword mixed with milk.

"Stay here. I'll go see what that was."

And I did.

With the world quiet and dark, I fell asleep in the cave. A womb that wouldn't ever let me go.

—

Seven skins were gathered from me in five days.

Even with Zmija's help, my body has grown more from the previous years and became more difficult to deal with. My brother had found plenty of use for his blade. Zmija cut deep into the softened layers of dead skin and pulled it apart. With each cut he made, I wondered if he'd 'slip' and see how far his blade would reach on my new skin.

Yet, his hand was steady as always.

I talked to the villagers. Learned what was happening in my friends' lives. Heard good news and bad news. Laughed. Smiled. Told them goodbye in my own way. No one was the wiser.

But I knew that I was to be killed. If not by my brother's hand then by someone elses.

… Zmija never told me if he found anyone that night, but I knew he did. After the stench of milk wafted away, I could smell the meat in the air as this person watched us each night. I wondered why nothing had happened yet.

Finally, at dinner, I decided to break the silence.

"Zmija. I am now weak." I couldn't even eat. "I can no longer leave this place. I am too big. This is why I need you to-"

"I'm not killing you." He stated. "I decided not to a long time ago."

He got up and leaned against my face. His arms spread wide in an attempt to hug me. He pulled away and moved to my line of sight. Sword drawn.

"I'll get those flowers and I'll be back. Then," He paused, an awkward smile to his face, "If you wish, I can take you home with me. Do you accept?"

"No."

The air became stilted between us. He still didn't understand.

"Zmija, this is my home. I would rather marry the next woman I see than ever go back to that place."

Zmija paced and bit his lip. He went through different expressions and thoughts. As if he needed me to say 'yes'. I'd save him the heartache.

"If you do not return the flowers to me, then I will find you and eat you. I expect to see them on our eighth morning tomorrow. Then, and only then, will you be free of me."

He owlishly looked at me and twisted the handle of his blade. Undecided. It's too late to be undecided.

Luckily, I decided a long time ago.

"Go, Zmija." I used the full strength of my voice, or what was left of it. The rumble of it even shook my own innards. When he did not leave, I folded in on myself. My head was tucked out of sight.

I closed my eyes and I slept.

—

The flowers were exactly as Lindworm described them.

One was luscious. The petals were supple and it was adorned with many leaves along its stalk. So many, in fact, the flower tipped over. Even with the burden, the stalk stayed strong, and bent to accommodate itself.

The other was withered. The few petals it had were dry and brittle. The stem was more of a darken twig than a living thing. If you could call it living at all.

I could relate to that one, as my own insides had felt the same for a long time.

There wasn't much time to marvel at the ethereal flowers. I was racing against a clock that I didn't know the pace of. I used my sword as a spade to get the flowers out. I needed to remove the roots and all. Any part of it being left behind could mean anything. Likely, unlucky things, such as what happened to our family.

I caressed the plants close to my chest. The scent of life and decay mixed into a wet musty smell. In all honesty it shouldn't smell good but I found myself taking a deeper breath. A curious thought pulled itself to my attention. One that was hard to argue with as I began to open my mouth.

All that power could be mine.

Instead of the nonmagical, submissive whelp I had been to my parents. They could be scared of me for a change. If I had the power my brother had, then all that suffering I went through would finally be rectified. There could be no more pain if I had an ounce of what Lindworm had.

…

I pulled away.

The action took all my might and made my insides churn to do so. 

My brother had given me the ounce of his life. This past week, I had what Lindworm had. I lived as he lived, ate what he ate, and did what he did. If there was anything I didn't receive from him, it was given to me by his friends.

My mouth felt dry as I looked to the peak where his body laid. I'd been a fool and an idiot to have left him there. My feet carried me before my mind caught up but when it did, I scrambled up the mountainside hoping there was still time. 

I can make amends. I know I can.

—

There, in the dark cave, was a splotch of dark red. 

Something had been dragged through the cave and left its trail by Lindworm's mouth. His eyes were glassy and distant. Zmija darted to his brother's side and fell to his knees.

"No." Zmija reached out to Lindworm's snout but no air left the creature. Zmija tried to open Lindworm's mouth but it took both of his hands to hold open Lindworm's jaws. 

The flowers stayed uselessly outside of his reach.

He sobbed.

He let go and curled up. Crumpled, withered, and filled with remorse. Zmija looked at the flowers and kept hoping they'd whisper some solution to him. A way where they all win and live on.

A curious thought entered his mind and his sobs muffled.

…

"I guess, you will have to eat me then."

Zmija shoved the flowers into his mouth and swallowed them. The rough stalk of the withered was hardly masked by the soft petals of the luscious. It didn't matter. Zmija didn't care.

He pried open Lindworm's jaws and threw himself inside. He pushed himself further and further down Lindworm's throat until he gave up. He curled up again, like a caterpillar waiting to be emulsified in its cocoon. Zmija wondered if this would even work.

How pitiful.

—

The morning came and a stillness was over the land.

The Prince, Zmija, had been eaten by a creature known as the Lindworm. 

The cursed prince.

The kingdom cried with the crown and a public funeral was held in Zmija's honor. The empty casket that rested in the church was filled with fresh flowers. People were encouraged to pay their respects and they brought more flowers for the young prince.

Flowers upon flowers ladden the casket until it spilled onto the floors. When the pews filled with flowers, then people turned to the streets, and so on until there wasn't a single flower left in the kingdom.

The King and Queen held hands as they looked on to their subjects. There wasn't a dry face in the crowd. The thought of Zmija being so missed almost brought a smile to their faces. Even though they had experienced a great tragedy, the kingdom mourned with them.

How lovely.

The Queen approached the railing and waited for a hush over the crowd.

"We appreciate you coming out here today to honor our Prince Zmija. He cared much for us and that is why he set out to do what he did."

She held a breath, and rubbed her thumb against the back of her hand. People kept their gaze on her.

"As you know, we had found a neighboring kingdom to make an alliance with and they sent us over their most beautiful daughter. Unfortunately, they were made aware that Prince Zmija was the second born but not of the cursed condition of the first born."

The Queen patted away tears from her face.

"So, they ask for us to marry her to the Lindworm."

A murmur in the crowd.

"We couldn't in good conscious accept these terms to marry their daughter to a monster. That would be cruel and unusual to put anyone through. So, Prince Zmija decided to put an end to the Lindworm."

"Our knights that we posted nearby had informed us that Prince Zmija had successfully killed the beast at the cost of his own life. I can only blame myself for not stopping him sooner. There are so many things that I want to tell him-."

"Like what?!"

Prince Zmija yelled from the crowd as it parted for him. People gasped and awed at the relatively unscathed Zmija. Flowers decorated his outfit as the residents adorned him in wreaths. The commotion around the young prince was engulfed by silence.

A large… something trailed behind the young prince.

"I think it's an apology." The Lindworm hissed, "Which I will accept, when and only when you step down from the throne."

Despite being cursed into a monster and being banished by your royal parents, you were happy with your life. Your home was peaceful. You always had enough to eat. You even had friends despite your appearance, so yeah your life was great. Your non-cursed sibling's life, on the other hand

[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

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."