#and an apron for extra effect

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

My exams start tomorrow but maybe instead I should draw Sulejmani in a tank top and sweatpants doing chores because it’s not like the rest of his squadron ever does anything for this household

we need to start romanticizing doing household chores in tank tops and sweatpants in the same way that we romanticize knighthood and i am not fucking kidding

[mascwoman]

Okay, I think I might go as an artificer for weekend #2 of Ren Faire. I am plotting.

[wayvchip]

cute dates with boyfriend!wayv

kun invites you over to his apartment to cook dinner and have a relaxing wine night. except maybe it wasn't that relaxing since you both turn it into a tipsy masterchef cooking competition. although you are quite intimidated by his cooking skills, you don't let that stop you from trying your best (which wasn't very good). kun, being the nicest guy ever, lets you win. the winner chooses the loser's punishment. you make him wear an embarrassing apron that says "kiss the cook but don't touch the buns" kun complies and prays the pictures you took of him on your phone never end up in yangyang's hands, or else he would never hear the end of it.

ten loves volunteering at the animal shelter, especially a shelter with lots of cats who need extra love and attention. you and ten spend the whole day playing with the cats, feeding them, cleaning out their cages, and brushing their fur. he almost wants to adopt yet another cat or two or three, but you gently remind him this isn't in real life neko atsume so he cannot collect all the cats in the world (unfortunately). ten's eyes soften when he sees you cuddling a senior kitty and he can't help but think to himself he wants to raise many cats with you in the future.

winwin would take you to the beach on a sunny day to enjoy the light breeze and salty air until the sun sets. you notice how he doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is checking you out. winwin compliments you endlessly and gives you one of his jackets to cover up because he hates the thought of other people staring at you. throughout the day, you help each other reapply sunscreen, and you giggle whenever he struggles to squeeze the tube that barely has any sunscreen left, because it sounds exactly like someone after they eat taco bell. during moments he thinks you aren't looking, winwin manages to find a pretty pearly white seashell among the billions of grains of sand and gives it to you.

xiaojun would invite you over to his place and you guys spend the whole time building legos and geeking out over the newest flower and plant lego sets. he starts sweating when your hand accidentally touches his hand while reaching for the same lego piece, even though you guys are literally dating. silly ahh boy. after you both finish building the set in one sitting, xiaojun makes you one of his famous oreo mug cakes, and he makes sure to lightly blow on the spoonful of batter to cool it down before feeding it to you and watching you eat it (he is so whipped for you)

hendery would take you to a hong kong style cafe. it's cozy and cute, and has lots of history behind how the shop came to be what it is today. you have trouble deciding what to order since you are unfamiliar with cantonese food but hendery excitedly explains each dish in detail just for you. once you decide what to get, hendery orders for you in cantonese, which makes you fall in love with him all over again. his eyes light up when you show interest in learning a few canto phrases and he feels his heart melt a little when you repeat after his words and ask if your pronounciation was okay.

yangyang loves going to the arcade section in the amusement park. the bright, colorful lights, silly circus music, and sound effects from the machines makes him feel like he's reliving his childhood again. yangyang tries to show off his claw machine skills because he wants to impress you. he literally tries so hard and finally wins a plushie for you after his like eleventh attempt. while yangyang is rambling on about how the "claw machine was rigged" and how "it wasn't a skill issue" on his part, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, which makes him shut up immediately and start blushing furiously.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

"Would you like another one?"

Paring: Baker!Felix x Bottom!Male reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Brownie Boy decides to put a little something inside a brownie he made just for you so he can get a special ingredient for his frosting.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I wrote this half-awake today. Also, should I make a fem version of this? Anyways enjoy! And requests are opened.

M/n stepped into the dimly lit bakery, the smell of freshly baked pastries filling the air. It was well past closing time, but Felix, M/n's best friend and the baker extraordinaire, had left a light on for him. The two of them shared a special bond, one that transcended mere friendship; they were practically inseparable. M/n wove through the empty tables, the chairs on top of them, and the counters covered in neatly stacked bowls of freshly whipped cream and sprinkles. He rounded the corner to find Felix in the back, his hands covered in flour, his face beet red from the heat of the oven.

"Hey, Felix," M/n called out, setting his bag down on the counter. "You know you could've just texted me to come back later."

Felix laughed, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. "Oh, you know me, M/n. I always like to see you." He glanced at the clock, then back at M/n. "But since you're here, why don't you help me with these cupcakes? I made an extra-large batch today, and I could use an extra pair of hands."

M/n nodded, stepping up to the counter. He loved helping Felix in the kitchen; it always made him feel so… useful. Together, they worked in companionable silence, piping icing onto the cupcakes and decorating them with sprinkles. After a few minutes, Felix paused and leaned in close. "You know," he whispered, "I made a special brownie just for you."

M/n's stomach growled at the mention of brownies. "You did?" Felix grinned, handing him the pan. "Go ahead, take it. I already put it in the oven, so it should be nice and warm."

As M/n carried the pan over to the oven, he felt a surge of warmth in his chest. It wasn't just from the heat of the oven; it was the thoughtfulness behind Felix's gesture. He set the pan on the counter, taking a deep breath in anticipation of the first bite. He glanced over at Felix, who was carefully icing one of the cupcakes, and found himself wondering how long it had been since they'd had a night like this, just the two of them.

Time seemed to slow down as he took a bite of the brownie. The chocolate was rich and fudgy, the walnuts providing a pleasant crunch against his teeth. But it wasn't long before he felt a strange sensation washing over him. His cheeks flushed, his heart raced, and he found himself unable to meet Felix's gaze. "Um," he stammered, putting the half-eaten brownie down on the counter. "Felix, I think you put something in this brownie."

Felix laughed, walking over to stand behind M/n. "You mean the aphrodisiac?" he asked, his breath hot against M/n's ear. "Don't worry about it. It's all natural, and it'll make things more fun."

As the effects of the aphrodisiac continued to take hold, M/n found himself growing more and more uncomfortable. His heart raced, and he could feel a warmth building in his groin. "Felix," he said, his voice strained, "I don't feel so good."

Felix placed a reassuring hand on M/n's shoulder. "It's okay, M/n. Just relax. You're with me, and I won't let anything happen that you don't want." He guided M/n over to the counter and helped him sit down. "Now, just take deep breaths and try to calm down."

As M/n tried to steady his breath, Felix retrieved a bowl from the cupboard and placed it on the counter. "I'm going to help you feel better," Felix whispered, his voice low and soothing. He knelt down in front of M/n and gently urged him onto all fours. "Just like this."

M/n felt a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as he obeyed Felix's instructions. His heart raced, and he couldn't help but wonder what Felix was planning to do next. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Felix had retrieved a bottle of frosting from a drawer. "Felix?" he whimpered.

Felix smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, M/n. I'm just going to make sure you're comfortable. This will help." He dipped his fingers into the cupcake frosting onto his fingers before slowly, carefully parting M/n's cheeks. "Just try to relax and enjoy this."

As Felix's fingers traced circles around M/n's anus, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He started by just teasing the entrance, using his fingertips to spread the icing that was already there. Then, with a soft moan, he began to slowly push one finger inside. M/n let out a soft gasp, his body tensing up, but Felix continued to move in and out of him, careful not to go too deep or too fast.

With each thrust of his fingers, Felix pressed harder against the spot that made M/n squirm the most. It felt so good, but at the same time, it was almost too much. His hips bucked involuntarily against Felix's hand, begging for more contact. "Felix…" he moaned, his voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing.

As Felix's fingers expertly worked their magic, M/n couldn't help but notice the wet, sticky sensation that was starting to build between his legs. The aphrodisiac was doing its job, and his arousal was growing by the second. He could feel himself becoming more and more engorged, the head of his cock beginning to peek out from the folds of his foreskin.

Just when M/n thought he couldn't take any more, Felix withdrew his fingers and knelt down behind him. M/n felt the warmth of his breath against his sensitive skin before he felt the tip of Felix's tongue press against his entrance. With a soft, wet lick, Felix began to circle his tongue around M/n's opening, gradually easing deeper and deeper. M/n arched his back, moaning loudly as the sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

As Felix continued to tongue-fuck him, his hand found its way between their bodies, teasing and stroking M/n's engorged cock. He slowly began to jerk him off, matching the rhythm of his hand with the movements of his tongue. M/n felt like he was about to explode, the pleasure building inside him with each thrust of Felix's tongue and each stroke of his hand.

With a final, deep thrust, Felix pushed his tongue as far inside as it would go, and M/n felt the familiar tingle in his balls that signaled his impending orgasm. He let out a long, shuddering moan as his hips bucked wildly against Felix's hand. His cock jerked violently in Felix's grip, spewing hot cum across the palm of his hand and into the bowl with frosting in it beneath M/n. The release was intense, overwhelming, and blissful all at once.

As the last spurt of cum pulsed from his cock, Felix pulled his tongue away and licked his lips, looking pleased with himself. He reached over to the counter and picked up the bowl, holding it up for M/n to see. "There you go, M/n," he said with a grin. "Your special gift for me." He held up one of the cupcakes with the icing that had been mixed with M/n's cum and offered it to him. "Go on, eat it up."

Still catching his breath, M/n reached out and took the cupcake from Felix, his heart racing. He took a bite, savoring the sweet, salty flavor that was uniquely his. As he chewed, he felt a new wave of arousal begin to stir inside him. He looked up at Felix, who was watching him intently, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Felix smirked and grabbed another cupcake from the counter. He knelt down beside M/n once again and placed the cupcake between his legs, directly against his engorged cock. "Here, M/n," he purred, "why don't you finish yourself off with this?" He pressed the cupcake firmly against M/n's throbbing member, the icing already smeared with their combined essence.

M/n groaned, feeling the familiar pressure building inside him. He closed his eyes and reached down, using one hand to guide the cupcake against his cock. With a sharp thrust, he impaled himself on the cupcake, moaning loudly as the sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body. His hips bucked wildly, fucking himself on the cupcake as he came, his cum splattering against the icing and coating both their hands.

Felix leaned in, capturing M/n's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He could taste himself on M/n's tongue, the tangy flavor mixing with the sweetness of the cupcakes. As their tongues danced together, Felix reached down and stroked M/n's cock, milking the last drops of cum from him. He continued to kiss him, their bodies pressed tightly together, until they both collapsed in a heap on the floor, breathless and spent.

Slowly, Felix pulled away, his eyes trailing up and down M/n's naked form. "Mmm…that was quite the show, M/n," he purred. "You're quite the talented performer." He picked up the tray of cupcakes and held it out to him.

"Would you like another one?"

[moirasdolly]

I don’t want to be a greedy bastard but if at some point you feel inspired to write more mtf!JQ I would 👹❤️😩💀👹🎀🥹😩❤️👹🎀👹👹🩷🎀🩷🫵😚😩👹🎀🩷

Junker Queen with a Housewife Reader ˖ ࣪ 𝇋♡︎𝇌 ׂ

Contains: NSFW (men and minors dni), fem reader, trans jq, fucking on the kitchen counter, reader is wearing a frilly apron, jq is kind of rough

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Stargirl Interlude - The Weeknd and Lana Del Rey

Notes: It’s been TOOOOO LONG since this request i’m sorry I’m just barely getting to it T^T, I hope these hcs suffice though !! I love my buff wife

• Your wife had been coming home stressed everyday, and as much as she claimed your presence alone helped her, you wanted to do something extra… special for her.

• Ever the sweet, kind hearted, angel you were, you decided to doll yourself up for her. Going all out you were adorned in a little, pink, frilly apron and matching lacy panties that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. A velvet choker wrapped around your neck snuggly and thin ribbons decorated your hair. Your long lashes framed your pretty doe eyes that absolutely drove Dez insane when you looked up at her towering form. And your favorite part (hers too) were the thighs highs being held up by snug garters.

• She adored you anyway you looked, but she couldn’t deny that she loved when you got all done up for her.

• You were at home cooking her favorite meal for her when she had finally returned. A slam of the front door, and the sound of her heavy boots echoing down the hallway rang in your ears before you heard her stop in her tracks.

• You hummed softly as you continued your cooking, not bothering to shoot her a glance to rile her up. Dez was too predictable because not even 5 seconds later, she was pressed against your backside, clearly personal space was something she did not get the concept of (not that you cared.)

• “Hi, Dez.” You finally tossed her a look over your shoulder, pressing a sweet little kiss to the apple of her cheek. Instead of an answer back, her hands trailed to your hips, holding you snuggly. A gasp escaped those pretty lips of yours when you felt her bulge pressing against you. “Someone’s needy today…” You teased with a smile.

• She cursed at the sound of your honey-toned voice, “Fuck, darlin’. You’re killin’ me here.”

• You were trying sooooo hard to keep it together while you prepared dinner, but your wife’s hands were just holding you so tightly, almost with bruising strength. And she was grinding her hips into you so temptingly. Those grunts being pulled out of her throat were just too distracting for you to think about anything else.

• The tell-tale sound of her belt unbuckling and fabric hitting the floor made you bite your lip in anticipation. You wanted to buck your hips back, eager to feel her, but you steadied yourself in anticipation. Instead, you felt Dez’s length slide between your thighs. With a heavy hand she smacked your ass, “Squeeze ‘em, doll.” Obedient as ever, you pressed your thighs together, leaning over the counter to expose yourself for her.

• Her cock was already slick with her arousal as she fucked your thighs, using you to her own liking. Her pace was brutal from the start and she didn’t plan on slowing either. The friction on your clit was barely there and you were whining Dez’s ears off about it. So she took matters into her own hands. Literally. She shoved her middle and index finger into your mouth, shutting you up effectively. “That’s more like it.” She muttered, using your thighs together get off.

• “Gonna cum between those thighs of yours…” She rasped out, grunting in your ears as she painted the inside of your thighs and the kitchen cabinet with her release.

• Her hips stilled and her fingers slid from your mouth with a string of saliva connecting them together. You knew she wasn’t done with you though. Her hand trailed up your body before settling in your hair, grabbing a fist full of it and pulling your head back. “Beg for me.”

• Your brain was already mush, you had no problem begging and pleading for your wife to absolutely destroy you, and to your delight, she had no problem complying.

• She gave you no time to prepare before sliding into your inviting cunt, cursing loudly as she did so. Her grip on your hair didn’t falter either, if anything she pulled you closer. Her free hand pressed against your stomach as she fucked you into the counter.

• Dirty, lewd words were growled into your ear as she fucked you dumb. She was absolutely relentless, but you loved it. Wet squelches, deep grunts, and your high pitched whines were the only noises to be heard and Dez was absolutely eating it up.

• She was hell bent on making you cum without touching your clit, and you were quickly approaching your release.

• With a few final thrusts, your body shook with pleasure, your knees almost buckling beneath you. If Dez wasn’t holding you so tightly, you would have fallen. Not too long after Dez came, releasing into you.

• She slumped forward, her body eclipsing your own. “My pretty baby, ya did so well.” She spoke after a moment, untangling her haha from your hair. When she pulled out you pouted at the empty feeling she left.

• She let one of her hands knead your ass softly before giving you one last smack. You whimpered softly as you felt Dez’s cum dripping down your thighs as you struggled to stand up.

• Your wife scooped you into her arms, peppering your face with soft kisses. It was a 180 from how she was handling you just moments before, but you knew your wife adored you and you loved the soft moments between you two.

• “Let’s get ya cleaned up, baby.”

• Let’s just say once the stove was turned off, whatever you were cooking was forgotten. Dez would rather eat something else for dinner.

[crunchycat6]

time to post stuff that is for me and me only: pizza tower dungeon meshi au (ask me about it i will go insane)

pino’s outfit was tough to work out but i like the idea of him wearing his apron everywhere just because he likes it :] he doesn’t wear much armor aside from chainmail so he doesn’t wear himself out carrying all that weight

i wanted to keep the effect of theo’s mask and i think the hood shadowing most of his face + the rat ear silhouette capture that pretty well, i also like drawing baggy pants and long cloaks

some more ramblings under here

Theo is the party leader and started all this with Hazel/Noisette (she’s basically the party’s cleric) he keeps picking up random people he finds in and out of the dungeon to help him get to the bottom

Theo has made a pretty big name for himself on the surface by parading himself around as a beast man (unlike izutsumi, he doesn’t much care about his dignity) he’s also a talented musician, so he’s pretty rich and famous by the time he decides to dungeon crawl

he hired peppino because the party needed extra muscle (agility isn’t enough to win every fight) and theo of course knows that pino is desperate enough for money to go down with him. pino is very aware of this but goes anyway because. well. yeah he needs the money.

when they first go down into the dungeon, the only people in the party are theo, hazel, peppino and gustavo (and brick) but they find some more friends down there :] in true pizza tower fashion they don’t usually rely on swordfighting or clever thinking and get through the dungeon by brute forcing it (peppino is very good at this)

i’ll try to get some more refs out soon, hazel and gus are probably next but who knows

this is very self indulgent so if you read all this thank you <3 if you have any questions feel free to ask i WILL keep talking

[angrypotato3]

Customer Fem Reader x baker Wanderer

-I wrote this thinking about wanderer but then I realized I never said his name so it can be whoever you want I guess.

-this was kinda rushed and not read over. I made this late at night while I was craving crepes. I’m not very proud of this work.

-reader

-wanderer

-Wanderer’s suppressed thoughts

I look up at the door when I hear the little jingle. It’s her. I feel a strange sensation in my lower stomach, I think people refer to this feeling as butterflies (stupid) why would I be feeling that way toward her.

“Hi YN what do you want today?” I ask when she gets to the counter (I try to hid my excitement the best I can.) “ohh you remember my name.” She says beaming. You guys might be wondering who she is. She’s a regular at my cafe, she comes in every morning before work. She’s very bubbly and friendly, it’s kinda annoying (I love it.)

I scoff “of course I would you come in everyday. Don’t you think you waist too much money here?” I say my face heating up out of embarrassment. “Never, your desserts are the best I’ve ever had.” My face gets even redder at her praise. “You trying to get free food?” (I’ll give it to you anyway) I say once again trying to hide the effect she has on me.

“No no I wasn’t, I genuinely think that.” I look away I can’t look her in the face not with how hot my cheeks are. “So then what can I get you?” “I think today I’ll get an iced coffee with… chocolate and strawberry crepes.” She exclaims excitedly. (Her sweet tooth is so cute.) I put her order into the machine. I cash her out, and tell her to wait at a table for her food and I’ll bring it to her .

I Make her coffee and crepes extra tentatively (want it perfect for her) I also add an extra chocolate cookie (she loves them). I head over to her table. “Here’s your coffee and crepes.” I say placing them in front of her. “Ohh I don’t think I got any cookies.” She says confused. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice “ohh you didn’t, well I can’t take it back now guess I’ll just give it to you for free.” I say hoping she doesn’t notice I did it on purpose.

“Is there any thing else I can help you with?” I ask expecting a no. “Actually there is. Do you have a pen?” I nod and hand her a pen from my apron. She grabs a napkin and writes something down. “Here”she hands me the napkin “my number so we can get to now each other out side of the store.” She says winking at me.

I look down at the napkin, it hasn’t fully dawned on me that she might be into me. Until I finally snap out of my trance. my face flushes a bright red and I nod before scurrying quickly back behind the counter. I definitely will not be contacting her anytime soon (I want to text her right now) and Im definitely not in love with her (I love her so much).

[midnight-hotel]

Alastor's Radio Sounds Part 2.

Find Part 1 here

Here’s the requested part to of experiencing Alastor’s radio sounds. I’m trying to avoid doing too many headcanon posts but if I find one that intrigues me, I may make an exception. 

Naturally it had only been a matter of time before Alastor came to accept that you knew about his barely contained radio sounds. He seemed to have just accepted that you were able to read into him just a little better than everyone else.

Of course, he tried to make it harder for you to gain a reaction though.

He strives to make it harder for you to come up with comebacks, flirted that extra bit to coax a reaction out of you or even prompt something from the radio static that hung around him. 

While you initially thought he had no control of the sounds made, you did eventually come to find that there was some control. Sound effects to punctuate his own statements and funny sounds to mock those around him. 

Then there was music. 

He started to play small snippets of old songs when you were around. 

When he was standing behind you, a low tone would play to creep you out or when you were just lounging around and he was reading a book, a gentle melody would play, filling the silence. 

One day you had found him in the kitchen, cooking something that actually smelt quite good- though you wouldn’t put it past him to have something strange in there- humming away to a melody playing in the background. 

You hadn’t realised that you had been staring until you saw him turn directly towards you, as if completely aware that you had been there the whole time. 

Dressed in his usual attire, though his blazer was swapped for an apron, he extended a surprisingly ungloved hand towards you. 

You’d hesitate for a moment before approaching, placing your hand on top of his extended one before you’d be pulled in close. 

Before you’ve realised what’s happening, the music’s changed and you’re being waltzed around the room.

You could have sworn you weren’t in the kitchen anymore and you were wearing the finest clothes that could be tailored. 

You could have sworn he was wearing a full suit again- free of rips and tears that it normally adorned.

You could have sworn he was staring at you adoringly.

And yet by the time you put on a smile and grounded yourself again, you found you were still in the kitchen, the radio demon grinning with you as he gave you a spin. 

When he had finally released you to attend to his stew again, he left you with a bow, the music fading away to a round of applause.

You were beginning to think there may be more to his powers to enjoy than just his radio sounds.

[blitzynatural]

BUCKTOMMY FLUFFEBRUARY DAY 2 - COOKING TOGETHER

@bucktommyfluffebruary

Read on ao3

MENACE IN THE KITCHEN

“That is a lot of carrot.” 

Considering that Tommy had cut around seven carrots by now, he would definitely agree that it was indeed a whole lot of carrot. 

“That is so much carrot”, Evan says again, laying on the implication pretty thick there between the lines. “We don't need that much carrot for the stew, Tommy.”

Tommy puts down his knife, wipes his palms over his apron and turns to face his boyfriend, ready to see that endearing scowl he always gets when he's being serious and focused on getting things right. Something Tommy seems to have already failed at. 

“Maybe you shouldn't have dumped so many carrots on the counter then”, he deadpans, knowing fully well that he is dipping his toes in dangerous waters by challenging Evan when he's in this mode. It is all so worth it just to see the subtle fiery glint flashing in Evan's blue eyes after the initial surprise. Tommy can't help but to grin. The thrill of being able to have that effect on him never seems to die and that is one of the many things he is feeling so grateful for in their relationship. 

“I obviously didn't mean for you to cut all of them”, Evan huffs. “Now there's too much carrot. We can't throw them away.” 

“I should hope not. I put a lot of time and effort into cutting them so perfectly”, Tommy teases and pops one of said cut pieces into his mouth. “I would hate to spend so much effort for nothing.” 

The scowl deepens and Tommy knows that he's awakened the beast that everyone else seems to be so intimidated by. Tommy, however, could not be more pleased, and he knows that Evan knows this fact. So Tommy doesn't move when his boyfriend takes a step forward and jabs a finger onto his chest. 

“So what do you suggest we do with the overflow of carrots?” 

“Overflow is an overstatement, don't you think?” 

“Tommy!”

Oh, there it is. The whining of his name Tommy loves to hear so much along with a pout as the scowl disappears from his boyfriend's face. Satisfied with the result of his subtle taunting, Tommy decides to reward Evan by wrapping his hand around Evan's wrist over his chest to bring the tip of his fingers to his lips. He presses his lips there, kissing them and engulfs his hand with his own. Evan practically melt at this, the scowl and pout completely leaving his face to be replaced with a sweet smile and flushed cheeks.

“Don't worry your adorable head about it, Sweetheart. I obviously have a plan.” 

Evan sinks into his space, wrapping both of his arms around Tommy's waist as he rests his chin onto Tommy's shoulder. “Hmm? Of course you do. What's your plan?” 

“Snacks for the kids. We got some extra dip. Howie told me Jee has been better with eating her vegetables, I figured that could help when they come over.” 

Evan makes a noise close to his ear that Tommy Can't quite make out, but the squeeze around his middle suggests that it's a sound of approval. 

“If it weren't for the fact that we'll be having guests soon we'd be halfway through happy land by now”, Evan whines and pulls away slightly to smile up at Tommy who laughs softly. 

“Now that would be a waste of effort on this stew. Back to cooking, you mence.” 

Evan huffs but plants a long, sweet kiss on Tommy's lips before he goes back to work on the stew. 

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 1

Ok so it’s been a whileeeeeee since I’ve written anything lol but I’ve been reading more House of the Dragon fanfics and got ✨inspired✨ by @sepherinaspoppies and @evagreen-stories so if this vibes with you check their stuff out! This will be a dark fic though just a warning for y’all.

Guess this was longer than I intended but I wanted all of the introductions and start of the story in one part. Any feedback or comments are appreciated but never expected! I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings: none yet but there will be more next chapter

The heat in the kitchens was more unbearable than usual. The air in the room was typically stuffy due to the large stone ovens the Westerosi people used, but you had forced yourself to become accustomed to the heat. It was worth the effort; however, as having a steady job as a woman was near impossible in this day and age.

You craned your neck down to look at the dough you were rolling and silently thanked your mother for forcing you to help in her bakery as a child. You grew to enjoy baking as you grew up, and luckily had many recipes memorized. You needed money and there were worse ways to get it.

Sweat rolled down your temple as you remembered running through the streets of silk in your jogging outfit, eyes darting fearfully around watching the prostitutes lure in new customers as you took in a new and scary world.

“What is it this time?” The head chef, Naerys, walked over to you, eyeing your work curiously.

You gave the older woman a smile as finished rolling out the dough. “It’s called a croissant. If done right it should be flakey on the outside and airy on the inside.”

Naerys nodded thoughtfully and motioned for you to continue.

“Now we need to let it sit for a while before we store it in a cool place.” You tried to pull your hands from the sticky dough and squeezed any remaining part of it off your fingers as you spoke.

“Impressive work as always.” Naerys gave you a motherly smile as she continued. “We should be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Should be?” You arched a brow at that. “I have prepared everything as much as I possibly can unless you want me to throw it all into the oven now.” As much as you enjoyed your job baking tarts and cakes, your bones creaked from carrying in heavy sacks of flour and longed for sleep.

“Now don’t give me that look, love,” Naerys sighed. “You do good work, and meal wise we are well prepared for tomorrow; however, Ursa fell ill today. We need you to attend to the feast.”

You sighed as you knew where she was going with this. Different worlds or not bosses always have the same look when asking you to go above and beyond your job. And of course the maidservant that tended to the royal family fell ill on the day that Princess Rhaenyra returned to the Red Keep.

“It’s not forever,” Naerys rushed to get out. “Just until Ursa is well again. We cannot afford to lose you here.” You and your recipes more likely. You knew that the nobles enjoyed your modern pastries and more than often found yourself making extra batches to fit the demand. “And if you do this we’ll have Alannys bring in the new bags of flour.” Now that was certainly tempting and your hands were already aching from the massive load you brought in today yourself. What harm could bringing a few plates out do?

You fidgeted with the strings of your apron, white flour clinging to the fabric. “Fine.” You begrudgingly gave in. “I’m not sure what exactly to do though. I’ve never tended to the tables, much less a royal one at that.”

Naerys gave a small exhale of relief and smiled at you brightly. “We’ll have someone else carry in the platters, all you need to do is fill their goblets with wine. Most of the time they will hold it out for you to fill.” Naerys grabbed a nearby clean apron and handed it to you while motioning at your dirtied one. “You must change that though and rebraid your hair my dear, you’ll need to look clean and presentable for the royal family.”

“Of course.” You nodded and quickly untied the old apron. “Is there anything else that I need to know? What will happen if the pitcher runs out of wine?” The dirty apron hit the ground with a light thud as you reached for the clean one. It smelled slightly of soap and was sharply pressed. Naerys was not joking about you looking presentable it seemed.

“Ah yes, the eldest prince, Aegon, will no doubt drink heavily.” She hummed, watching as you finished refastening the apron and removed your cap. At first you thought the big white hat that the servants wore was goofy, but now you appreciated how it would hide any loose curls or hairs as you redid your braids. “Once it is empty you can hand it to a nearby footman and he will fetch you another. Now, let me get a look at you.” Naerys eyed you carefully and pulled your cap back over your head. “Good. Now make haste to the dining room love, you must be there before anyone else.”

She smiled at you one more time as she shoved the pitcher into your hands. “Oh!” She exclaimed softly. “I almost forgot. Do not look them in the eyes, you are not to be seen or heard and try not to eavesdrop as hard as that may be. You will do wonderful.” With that the older woman turned and headed towards another cook toiling over a fire, only pausing to pick up your discarded apron.

You nodded your head quickly, perhaps trying to convince yourself of that very thought as you hurried out of the kitchens. You weren’t sure if the events of Fire and Blood will have changed since you were thrown into this tumultuous world, and you prayed to anyone that would listen that it hadn’t. As gruesome as the Dance of the Dragons was, it was better that you knew what was going to happen before it did.

The Red Keep was much larger than the shows and book made it seem and you still found yourself getting lost in the more obscure winding hallways. It was lucky that the royal dining room was near the library. Although you weren’t allowed entry to the room you still enjoyed walking past it and smelling the old books whenever you could. It reminded you of another time, another world. One that you wished you could go back to.

It was odd how one small choice had led to the upheaval of your entire life.

You needed to snap out of those thoughts. You needed to focus on the task at hand. The past was in the past. You watched as the doors that lined the halls grew more and more ornate as you walked the long trek from the kitchens to the part of the castle the royal family inhabited.

The usually quiet halls covered with plush rugs and richly colored tapestries were bustling as other servants ran around, trying to perfect every last detail before the royal family came for dinner.

You picked up on the smells of honey roasted ham and other various dishes that made your mouth water. Although you worked in the kitchens day in and day out, you never had a chance to sample the food you served to others. Usually it didn’t bother you, you would go back to your small hut near the castle entrance where you shared a home with three other servants and made your own meals. But that didn’t stop your stomach from grumbling slightly as you entered the large dining room. When was the last time you had something to eat?

“Ah there you are!” A footman who had a striking resemblance to a weasel came rushing over to you as your eyes darted around the room. There were a few musicians in the back of the room, testing and strumming their instruments softly and chattering about something you could not overhear. In the middle of the room was a large table filled to the brim with food that you had a part in cooking.

“The king is about to arrive. You may stand over there.” The man gently grabbed your arms and led you across the room into a small barely noticeable alcove next to great velvety curtains that framed windows larger than you.

You only nodded dumbly as he rushed away. You didn’t know what to respond with and even if you did you didn’t know how to phrase it. The people in Westeros spoke some type of Old English that you had trouble mimicking and even back home when there were no odd phrases you had trouble conversing with others. Perhaps if you were lucky everyone would think you were dumb and wouldn’t notice you. You knew of Prince Aegon’s habits with other maids and already regretted agreeing to serve the family.

You were snapped back to reality as cheerful chattering grew closer and the Velaryon boys strode into the room with Princess Rhaenyra and her husband Prince Daemon in tow.

“The Red Keep certainly looks different.” You overheard Jace say to Lady Baela.

“It looks more like the Sept of Baelor but greener.” Baela scoffed, earning a small chuckle from her father.

“It is rather garish is it not?” He responded, pulling out a chair near the middle of the table for his wife before seating himself next to her.

The Princess smiled at the sentiment while Jace and Baela sat across from the pair. “It seems like Alicent has had a hand in the decorations.”

It was as if her words had summoned the queen herself, as Alicent entered with her arm intertwined with the King’s keeping him steady as he struggled to shuffle over to his chair.

If this was following the show this would be his last night alive. You felt the hairs on your arms raise as he fell into his seat harshly but smiled at his daughter with a content expression.

“How good it is to see your face my dear.” He huffed out, ignoring his other children seating themselves on his other side. You noticed in particular as the One-eyed Prince started drinking as soon as he sat down.

Perhaps Aegon wouldn’t be the drunkest tonight after all. You walked on the edges of the room trying to remain unseen as the younger Prince raised his cup for more. You slowly obliged his silent request, focusing more on trying not to over fill the cup than the conversation at hand.

With that done, you stepped back silently and noticed that his brother had also finished. If the dinner had just started and the Princes kept up this pace it’d be a long meal.

The minutes passed slowly as you occasionally refilled cups, more on the green side than the blacks.

Everything seemed to have been going well. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent were talking and laughing with the king before he had to be taken to his chambers to rest. And even you smiled as Jace offered to dance with his aunt. Helaena always was your favorite out of the bunch. And she looked happy as the two of them spun around, something she must not have felt often being married to Aegon.

You flinched as you heard someone clearing their throat and remembered why you were there. Your smile fell quickly as your eyes met the younger Prince’s sneer.

“Oh. Sorry.” You whispered out softly, rushing over to his side. Your hands shook slightly as you watched the red wine pour into his cup. Unlike the other times you attended to the Prince, this time you felt his sharp gaze on you as you worked. Perhaps he just thought you were lazy. You didn’t dare look up though. While the older brother was more often than not blackout drunk, the younger prince was known for his short temper that seemed to be set off at anything and everything. You remembered watching as other maids cried from his stern words and begged for reassignment.

“At least someone is enjoying themselves tonight.” He scoffed, talking quietly so only you could hear. “I’m sure for someone of your…” He paused as his eyes roved your body. “…station, that this is quite the spectacle. You small folk are all so easily entertained.”

You felt your face light on fire at his smug smile. Fucking elitist prick. His words made you seethe for some reason. It wasn’t like you haven’t been called worse, working in the food service industry had given you thick skin, but his remark was the reason you preferred to remain in the kitchens unseen. The nobles were all the same, ungrateful and spoiled.

You were about to open your mouth, perhaps for a clap back that would have cost you your head, when someone did you the favor of bringing out a roasted pig and setting it in front of the one-eyed Prince.

You huffed out a laugh as his cheek twitched at the sight which earned you another searing glare.

“Perhaps you are right. Enjoy the pig, my prince, as I know it reminds you of your first dragon. I cooked it myself.” You tried to keep your voice down but apparently Lucerys Velaryon had overheard and released a small laugh.

Perhaps that is what set off Aemond as he stood up quickly and slammed his hand onto the table. You watched as his face morphed from his twisted sneer to something calmer. More collected.

“Final tribute.” He said with a smile as he raised his cup.

You took this moment to step back as he paused. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey.”

Alicent nervously began picking at her nails as her son spoke and the two Velaryon boys eyed Aemond cautiously. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He paused again and seemed to be debating something that he decided to ignore. “Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent hissed, eyes nervously darting across the room.

“Come let us drain our cups to these three,” He gave a shit eating grin to Jace as Aegon waved his cup in the air laughing. “Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace snapped, stomping towards his uncle.

“Why? ‘‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourselves strong?” As Jace got closer you watched as he punched Aemond across the face which only caused the One-eyed Prince to laugh as he kept hold of his wine. At the same time you heard Aegon slam Lucerys’ head into the table as he tried to get up.

“Jace!” Rhaenyra shouted, standing up quickly. “That’s enough!”

With a scoff, Aemond shoved Jace away from him and swirled his drink with a bored expression. He pretended not to see the two guards holding back the Velaryons. “It seems I’m in need of more wine.” He gave you a cold smile as he sauntered over.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” Alicent said, rushing over to her younger son. “You may leave.” She waved you away dismissively and for the first time that night you had not been happier until Aemond grabbed your arm harshly.

“Nonsense we’ve barely started eating mother.” He shoved his cup towards you again and waved it expectantly. “Well?”

You gave a questioning look to the queen who instead of answering turned her son towards her and waved you away. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

You didn’t wait to hear anything else, and instead scurried towards the doors as quickly as you could. You knew you shouldn’t look back at the train wreck behind you but part of you couldn’t help it.

As you closed the heavy door behind you, you noticed one violet eye piercing into you, instead of listening to his mother. It was then that you knew that the Prince would not forget your words.

[takadokii]

✴ extra: insatiable yearning !! ‧₊.࿐

summary Suguru likes helping you cook, but sometimes he's plagued with an insatiable hunger for you; he knows it's wrong, but only certain thoughts can stop them. pairing geto suguru x f!reader tags cunnilingus (f & m receiving), unrequited feelings warnings slight smut! slight angst, word count 1.1k links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

Suguru enjoys teaching you to cook.

It started with a genuine concern for your health when he discovered you lived off of microwave meals and had developed into a sort of guilty pleasure for him as time passed.

He would start off simple, teaching you when to use oil instead of butter, how to know when the rice is properly cooked, and what spices and herbs add the best flavour to it.

He liked holding the wooden spoon up to your face after it cooled down a little. At first you’d be hesitant, testing the temperature with your lip before putting the food into your mouth, letting out a noise of contempt as soon as the flavour set in.

He enjoyed letting his hands linger on yours whenever you were cutting spring onions, tomatoes or carrots, he showed you how to use your fingers to measure where to cut next and he liked the little pause and jolt your body would do whenever he’d lean in close and tell you you were doing a really good job.

He enjoyed the fact you’d bring cookbooks into school, showing him whatever recipe you wanted to try next. Sure, a few times he lied to you in his expertise about it and had to hastily try the recipe out at home before going to you and pretending as though it was a long passed down recipe that had been in his family for generations.  

You’d read the steps out to him, sitting on the counter as he washed, prepared and measured the ingredients, you’d swing your legs a little and Suguru had a hard time holding back from the temptation to reach out and hold your thighs in place.

Cooking was something important to him, just as you were and as he felt these parts of him connecting, colliding in a way that made it impossible for him to think about one without the other, he feared the thought of connecting you to the pleasure and peace he found in food.

Despite loving to cook, Suguru was also an enjoyer of eating, he enjoyed trying all sorts of different tastes from different cultures and could warm up to the idea of just about anything, he thinks that everything one consumes has an effect on one's soul.

Eating, could be in its simplest form the consumption of nutrients, keeping his body alive and strong, but it could also be tasting, savouring the flavour of something delicious, exciting, sweetness melting on his tongue.

When he connects his love for you to his love of food, he realises quickly he needs you just as much as he needs to eat, hungers for you like a starving man every time you stand just close enough for him to reach out to you.

When you gift him a “Kiss the Cook” apron for his birthday he can’t properly contain his smile, and uses it as an excuse to come by your house more often in hopes you’d do so.

Once growing more comfortable, you started the habit of being a bit more hands-on with your assistance.

Tying his apron drove him crazy, you’d always stand much closer than anyone would deem necessary, pressing yourself into his back as you tied a small bow.

You’d lean up then, your chest pressing into his back and he can feel the firmness of your breasts when you’d whisper with a smile into his ears. 

“Done.”

When you move to look him in the eyes he’s still thinking about you, the counter is still empty and he can’t help but think about sitting you down on it and eating you out pushing your panties to the side and making you cum on his tongue until your legs would quiver on his shoulders.

He imagined the look on your face, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came undone for him, the sweet noises you would attempt to muffle with your hand.

He’d pause, just as out of breath as you seemed to be, leaning up for a quick kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

He’d whisper into your mouth with a teasing smile, a feign pity at the thought you could dared to assume he was finished with you, “Done?”

Before kissing a trail down your body and diving his mouth between your legs again.

But what really pushed his buttons was when you’d tuck the loose strand of hair behind his ear for him, whenever he was leaning forward and it was obscuring his vision.

You’d do it so gently, letting your finger graze his neck before letting it fall back to your side again.

He’d gulp and let out a shaky breath, irritated by how oblivious you were to the effects you’d have on him.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, but he barely hears it, trying to focus on not cutting his fingers off while chopping the onions.

He continues cooking, looking down he imagines you sitting there, on your knees, choking down his length, spit running down on chin as your nails would dig into his thighs.

Your eyes were near to closing, in an attempt to shove his dick even further down your throat, but he wouldn’t let you.

He’d keep the hair from your face, to return the favour as he pulled on it, making you look up at him.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

He finished cutting the spring onions.

“Everything’s fine,” he chuckles and puts them in the pot without glancing your way.

He feels bad, occasionally, when he’d sit across from you as you ate the shared creation you had made and sees you gulp down the food so innocently, loudly exclaiming your fascination with the flavour as he is still caught up in these lude thoughts he had about you.

But he can’t help it, because despite sitting across from him, his hand doesn’t dare to reach out to yours and all he can think about is the tingling beneath his skin of a touch unfelt, a one sided tension flowing through his veins.

He allows himself to think of you like this, despite knowing how wrong it is, how disgusted you’d probably feel if you were to find out but he thinks these might be the only thoughts that can distract him from how madly in love with you he is.

He sighs and eats his food, hungry for something else.

is this kinda sanji coded? anyway, my first smut I'm sorry if my words during those scenes arent as descriptive or eloquent yet, I'm sure ill get the hang of it soon :)

thanks for reading! <3

much love, jae 🩵

[hazzybat]

Non-exhaustive list of Actually helpful ADHD cleaning tips from somone with ADHD who has gone many months without cleaning at all before and is figuring out what works for them

- VACUUM EARLY. The usual cleaning rule is to vacuum last but that won't work for us. Get everything off the floor then vacuum while you still have motivation and you aren't tired yet. It'll feel nicer to walk around, it will get a lot of dust and dirt (so you're in a cleaner space) and if you get burnt out/distracted half way through then at least that big thing is done

If you have energy once everything is put away then vacuum again to get the dirt you missed.

- Take meds. If you have meds take them. They help. Even if you think they don't, even if you hate some side effects take them so you can have a nice house

- Music or a podcast. You have to play something to keep yourself occupied. TV will make you want to watch but audio will let you do other things

- Set the bar low. Only say you'll clean one room. Or you'll just put away clothes. Or you'll just change your sheets. Give yourself victories so you want to keep going. And then if you don't do more then hey! You did what you set out to do!

- Throw out things. I know hording tendencies are hard and if you are a crafter you want to keep every little scrap of junk but it'll help if you throw things out.

If you feel you have to keep that piece of cardboard ir plastic then get a zip lock bag and put all your little craft bits in it. You can keep it but if you use nothing from it then you can throw out the whole bag after a week or a month.

- Put on a cute apron/ tie your hair up/ pretend you are a 50s housewife. You have to make it interesting for yourself so play dress up! It'll help it be fun and it's like a work uniform. It'll help to tell your brain that now you're in "cleaning mode". And a fun apron will help protect you from any dirt which is extra good. Hell wear a pair of high heels and tiny booty shorts just to wear something different.

- Along those lines of making it fun/different pretend you are on a cleaning show! Pretend you're making a YouTube video about how to clean/look at this amazing transformation! I love videos of people with my level of depression or adhd actually clean and feel better. It makes me feel less alone so sometimes I pretend I'm also making a video for everyone else who struggles.

- If your house smells bad light a candle or incense or have room spray. You need to be able to clean up the bad smells so you have to be in the room with the bad smells. Make them less bad so you can get rid of them

.

- Wear gloves even if you aren't doing dishes.

- It's okay to do one room at a time. It's okay to do only bits of the room. It's okay to put away half your clothes then clean the desk them put away the other half of the clothes. You don't have to do everything in order

- Bring a big garbage bag with you everywhere so you can easily put everything there instead of filling up the bin in each room.

- Also bring a laundry basket with you. Anything that need to go in another room put it in the basket so you can stay in the room you're cleaning and not get distracted, then take it with you when you leave

- If you have a blorbo pretend they're helping you. They're encouraging you from where they're leaning against a wall or they're gonna come over after so you want your house to be nice for them. It can help you feel like there's a point to it all.

- You aren't a failure. You have a brain that works differently and it needs help to work best.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

"sorry, but i think i lost your plot" where toothless notices hiccup admiring our protagonist often and follows her around one day while she's working? basically toothless being a wingman of sorts

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 17

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,006

You and Toothless rendezvous.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, unedited

<Previous - Next>

You hurried down the steps of the Ingerman home, basket in tow, a warm, clean cloth wrapped steaming loaf of bread sitting on top of a basket of dirty laundry.

Each step tapped against the wooden stair, your worn boots doing little to soften your footsteps.

You walked with quick strides through the clearing, running across damn dirt and a forge that hadn’t yet been lit in the early morning darkness, only pausing briefly to glance at a shadow at the corner of your eye.

When you looked back, there was nothing there.

You shrugged it off, despite the chills running down your back, intent on quickly getting down to the wells before anyone else could. 

You held a rag in your fists, braced against your hips, staring at your work, at the many, many shiny weapons lined and mounted against the wall, some patterned, most not, all sharpened to the highest degree.

As you polished to the highest degree, soot and other things caked onto your clothes and the apron you’d borrowed from Mrs. Jorgenson. 

Your attention was drawn, for a moment, to the half open window, where you caught a glimpse of a large green eyeball just as it disappeared from view.

You didn’t mind it, instead looking away and taking a few more moments to admire your work. 

You knew the Jorgenson head didn’t much care for polished artifacts, though Mrs. Jorgenson insisted on it. Something about utility and pride, nothing you learned from anyone but the head lady herself. She has some very strong opinions on it.

You looked outside a window to your side, half covered by wooden shutters and a wood frame to match the wood everything else, admiring the yellow, rising sun.

The Head should be back from his early morning training soon off in the forests. You found that he trained like every day was Thorsday Thursday.

You fled quickly as the morning got just a bit brighter, willing yourself out before the fresh dewy feeling left the air, grabbing your coin and your effects, before either one could come home and they could start arguing. 

Sitting by the well, on top of the built stone wall surrounding the hole, you looked down at the nice cloth wrapped gift you had gotten earlier that day.  

Off to your side, a terror danced and pounced around, following a bug. 

Animals, dragons mostly, crowed and lazed in the warming noon light. 

You unwrapped it, revealing a nice loaf of bread. 

You were sure you were going to save it as much as you could before it started to mold. You needed to finish it before it went bad. 

But you thought it wouldn’t hurt to take off a few slices. 

The poor woman, Mrs. Ingerman, had gotten up extra, extra early to bake you a loaf which was impressive considering you were up in the earliest of hours, so early it had only been a few since the last night. The last midnight, that is.

You stared out at the place around, at the occasional person bustling past, most vikings heavily involved with their tasks for the day. 

You spotted something in an alley, large and slinking and nearly black, it’s body language cautious and yet not.

A Night Fury. The only Night Fury you knew, crouched around the corner, observing you.

If he shifted just right, you could see the glint of a metal buckle attached to his strap. You wondered where his rider was.

You bit into the bread loaf, still staring at him.

Had he been following you all day?

You looked at the sheep in front of you, shears at your side. 

It was a dusty white one, slightly overgrown, white fur and gray face very fuzzy. 

You considered cutting its wool into a shape like you’d seen gardeners do to bushes. 

You stood on a floor of hay in the gentle shade of a barn, one by the open fields sort of close to the coast-cliff line overlooking the sea and the craigs. 

It had been a long while since you’d shorn a sheep, yet it felt like just yesterday you’d learned.

You stared out at the open stall towards the light of the afternoon where the fields were open and the sheep were wandering free.

The grass was tall and green and looked incredibly fresh, something nice to lay in. 

You would do that after your task and the retrieval of your coin when it was colder and you could better appreciate the fresh earth freely.

You blinked.

It looked like you had a friend for the day.

You didn’t see anything, but you did hear a light purr, the kind you could perhaps brush off as one of the sheep’s, before you heard a loud thump. 

You brushed it off.

You wondered if he had a task for you?

You stared down into the open barrel, slightly smelly, damp with seawater and slime, ready to be hung and dried and maybe pickled, filled with fish of many different sizes.

You wiped your hands on the towel by your side, shifting your rolled up sleeves further up your arm as you stared down at your work. 

And then you looked off to the side, where Toothless peered out at you, the green of his eyes a bit more difficult to make out, washed over with orange. 

You reached into the barrel and tossed him a fish.

It landed against the ground with a smack, and he jumped back into the shadows slightly, before creeping forwards again, eyeing you curiously. 

He sniffed it curiously, looking up at you with big, suspicious eyes all the while, large, draconic shoulder hunched before grabbing the tail delicately by the teeth.

Quickly, he threw it up into the air and gulped it down before quickly turning around and bounding away, leaving vague imprints of his paws in the dust layer resting over the hard, dry dirt floor.

 Whatever brought him to you, the fish seemed to treat pretty well.

[sergeantsporks]

Writing Request!

Hunter gets adopted by direwolves.

Sorry.

Hunter plucked a twig out of his hair. “No—you’re fine. I should have known better than to take a new palisman for a flight right away. Stupid of me to think I was experienced enough it wouldn’t be a problem, huh?”

He’d seen enough palisman awakenings to know that what Dell called their “teething power” was unpredictable, and they weren’t used to flight right away. He’d given the advice countless times—give them a second to figure out flight themselves before you hop on the staff. He’d also watched his advice be immediately ignored by countless young witches who wanted nothing more than to share first flight with their palisman, and had done the exact same thing he just had, shooting off erratically into the sky and crash-landing.

Despite the crash, despite the long trench he and his new palisman had left in the forest, Hunter’s body buzzed with excitement, with exhilaration. She’d woken up—and she was beautiful. He reached up to touch Waffles’ face, half expecting this whole thing to be a dream. But she was real and solid underneath his fingers, and he couldn’t help but let out a whoop of happiness.

He was answered with a mournful howl.

Hunter shut his mouth, falling instantly into survival mode. He teleported to the top of a tree, crouching silently in the branches and waiting, watching the forest carefully. A minute ticked by. Then two. He might as well have been part of the tree; he didn’t move a muscle. The howling didn’t start again, but Hunter’s ears twitched, picking up a pained yip, and snuffles. He leapt carefully to the next tree, barely shaking the branch when he landed. Then to the next, and the next, until finally, he found the source of the howling and snuffling. A direwolf pup crouched in the forest, one of its six legs caught in a steel trap.

Hunter’s breath caught in his throat. Seeing a direwolf pup in the wild was rare—mostly because the packs guarded their young jealously, and the majority of those who did stumble upon a wild direwolf pup were quickly ripped to shreds.

But this one didn’t seem to have the rest of its pack. It snuffled and whined, alone in the trap. Hunter watched for a few more minutes, waiting to see if the rest of the pack would give itself away. When the forest showed no signs of movement, he leapt down, landing softly on the ground and approaching the pup slowly.

“Shshsh, I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, “I’m here to help.”

It was startling how similar direwolves looked to the pictures he’d seen of human realm wolves. He supposed that was where one or the other had gotten its name. Aside from the extra set of legs, and the tusk-like fangs that curved from its lower jaw, this pup could have jumped right off of his T-shirt.

Hunter examined the trap. It was a fairly simple model—he poked the trap demon in the eye, and it let go, glaring at him. Hunter gently lifted the pup out of the trap, glaring right back at the trap. It was small, far too small to catch a full-sized direwolf. Either the trap had been meant for something else, or poachers were after the pups for exotic pets.

Heavy teeth sank into Hunter’s arm, but the puppy didn’t have the bite force to actually break skin. Hunter lifted his arm up to look the dangling pup in the eye. “Stop that,” he commanded the puppy sternly, “I can’t bandage your leg if you’re chewing on my arm.”

To his surprise, the pup let go. Hunter rummaged through his apron pockets, pulling out a pair of heavy gloves he used to handle some of the more clawed palisman. He mentally kicked himself for not using them earlier, but better late than never. He didn’t have bandages with him, but his polishing cloth was better than nothing. He tied it swiftly around the pup’s injured leg, just the right tightness to stem the bleeding. As thanks, the pup bit him again, with no effect on his gloves. This time, it was easier to shake off.

“You’re welcome,” he told it grouchily, “Go find your pack.”

Waffles trilled a warning, and too late, Hunter realized he’d let his guard down. Eyes glittered in the trees, and a low growl hummed through the air.

Hunter dropped the pup like a hot potato and jumped to his feet. A quick spin told him that the direwolves had him surrounded, but they hadn’t pounced yet.

The pup, he realized. They were giving him space and judging whether or not they could rescue the little creature. How long would that hold, though? What was more important to a direwolf? Pup safety, or revenge? No research had been carried out successfully. Due to the ripping-into-shreds tendency.

Hunter made a choice that was either absolutely brilliant or the last thing he would ever do in his life. Before the wolves could make their decision, he scooped the direwolf pup up and threw it towards one side of the circle.

The startled yelp and the look on the pup’s face as it flew through the air was so comical Hunter would have laughed if he wasn’t so worried he was about to get mauled. But his gamble paid off—the entire pack lunged towards the pup to make sure it was alright, for the moment forgetting about the interloper in their midst. That one moment was all Hunter needed. He bolted, teleporting away to give himself extra time.

Fly? Waffles chirped. Hunter shook his head. He’d love to—and most times, it would be the best option. But he could feel the magical energy still bursting out of Waffles at the seams, and he couldn’t risk another crash, not right now with direwolves on his heels.

The pack recovered from their surprise and Hunter heard their howls tear through the trees. He ran faster, vaulting over rocks and fallen trunks, occasionally teleporting again when he could feel their steps thrumming in the ground and hear their panting behind him.

Snap

Hunter’s momentum kept him moving forward so fast he didn’t even realize for a second what had happened until he was abruptly yanked to a stop, and his left leg exploded in a riot of tearing pain. Hunter crashed into the ground, but he barely felt the impact. The direwolves howled again—no—wait—that was his voice, screaming.

Hunter’s breath seized up in his chest. The ground turned into a blur. His leg throbbed. Direwolf teeth snapped closer and closer.

Ding

A sound like a pealing bell rang softly through the trees, and a haze of golden light tumbled around Hunter, just as the first direwolf closed the distance. The creature thudded heavily into the golden bubble that surrounded Hunter, its claws scrabbling uselessly at the surface.

His staff floated in front of him, wings outstretched. The golden light cast strange shadows, concealing any color of the bird, and Hunter squinted, his head spinning.

“Flapjack?” he murmured. He knew, somewhere in his gut, that he was wrong. But it felt so familiar—so right.

“Safe,” Waffles chirped, and just like that, the spell was broken. Flapjack was gone. But the palisman he did have—his brave, beautiful, loyal palisman—was still there, protecting him. “Keep safe.”

Hunter dug his fingers into the dirt, taking deep breaths and steeling himself to look down.

Another trap demon had locked its jaws around his leg. The thick steel had bit straight through his boots, and already blood oozed out around its teeth.

Hunter’s stomach heaved, and he tasted bile.

Can’t breathe, he thought dizzily, and laid down flat on his back. Just breathe, breathe, breathe. He pulled up a handful of dirt, pouring it slowly onto his forehead. The steady pressure of the falling soil dragged him back down into his own body, and he took a deep breath, repeating with another handful of soil. Outside, the direwolves settled, pacing around the golden bubble. But inside the shield, inside, Hunter felt the stillness of the forest seep into his bones. If he died here, the forest would move on. It was strangely comforting

Hunter sat up, moving slowly and carefully to avoid moving his leg and setting off a fresh round of tearing. Still, every second felt like knives stabbing further into the wound. With a clear mind, Hunter could see that the wounds hadn’t actually bled that much—the jaws, for all the damage they were doing, prevented the blood from exiting the wound.

He was out of bandage substitutes. As long as Waffles could keep the shield up, he’d be safe from the direwolves. And as long as the trap demon remained lodged in his leg, he wouldn’t bleed too badly. Trying to leave now was certain death. But he couldn’t stay here forever.

It almost felt wrong to summon his penstagram scroll, like he was breaking the forest’s calm. But, he argued to himself, all creatures had a way to communicate distress to their fellow animals. This was simply his howl.

Still, he kept his messages short. One to Eberwolf, and another to Viney. He trusted them to tell anyone else who needed to know. Then, the call completed, he sat and waited. Only a few direwolves remained pacing. The others laid a little ways away, playing with their pups and leaving the hunt to their fellows.

Hunter watched the remaining hunters. They watched back. And slowly, one by one, they drifted off. Only one stayed. It laid down, but kept its amber eyes fixed on him. Hunter met its stare. Neither of them broke eye contact. Somehow, Hunter was certain that if he did, the wolf would call its pack, and they’d attack the shield until Waffles couldn’t hold them back any longer. Finally, the direwolf yawned, rested its head on its paws, and closed its eyes. Hunter breathed a long sigh of relief.

The respite didn’t last long. The golden light around him flickered, and Waffles chirped an apology. The direwolves perked up. The shield flickered again, then went out entirely.

One

Two

Three

Hunter’s heart beat a quick tempo in his chest, but he didn’t dare move. If he ran, he was prey, and he wouldn’t stay out of their reach this time. Waffles fell to his hands in staff form, ready to fight.

The direwolf closest lifted its head again, slowly rising to its feet. It took a few steps closer to Hunter, unconcerned. It sniffed the trap around Hunter’s leg first, its lips peeling back in a snarl of disdain. Then, its nose came inches from Hunter’s dirt-streaked face. It snorted, sending a blast of hot air in Hunter’s face.

Then it laid back down.

The rest of the pack followed its lead, sniffing Hunter’s face, then settling in a big pile around him. One of them started to lick Hunter’s injured leg, but stopped when Hunter yelped, his stomach heaving again. He dug his hand back into the ground, settling his breathing back down. He had to stay a calm part of the forest. Otherwise… he didn’t want to start to think what they’d do to him.

Despite the danger literally surrounding him, Hunter couldn’t help but lean back, resting against one of the direwolves’ flank. The steady rise and fall of its breathing slowly lulled him into an easy sleep.

Waffle’s chirp woke him. The sun had risen, dappling the forest floor with light. And sitting in a circle of happy direwolves was Eberwolf, who seemed completely unconcerned with the massive creatures, despite the fact that he held their injured pup in his lap.

“Good sleep?” Eber signed, letting the pup go.

Hunter sat up. His head pounded, and his mouth felt drier than the Titan’s palm. He couldn’t feel the trap around his leg anymore—in a panic, he sat straight up, dislodging a puppy that had curled up on his chest. But to his surprise, the reason he couldn’t feel the trap was because the trap was gone, and his leg had been wrapped in clean bandages.

Eber chuckled. “V-I-N-E-Y. You slept. Took all her magic to keep from being torn.” His face split into a proud grin. “Not like me. Not like you.”

“Mrgh?” Hunter managed. The puppy he’d dislodged crawled back up to him, someone discontentedly. Hunter scratched its ears to placate it. “What happened?”

“Part of the pack now.” Eber howled, as if to emphasize the point, and the rest of the pack howled with him. And strangely, Hunter felt a deep pull in his chest, too, a call to open his lungs and heart and howl with them.

Eber grinned again. “Helped a pup. Didn’t back down. Showed good defense. Earned respect. And trust. Very good.”

“Oh,” Hunter responded faintly. The fact that he’d even survived the night surrounded by a direwolf pack made his head spin. But still, a glimmer of pride shone underneath that. Not many people could say they’d befriended a direwolf pack—especially not one with pups.

“Very good,” Eber repeated, “Now? Time to go home.”

Hunter felt a twinge of sadness at the idea of leaving the forest behind, but the feeling was quickly overwhelmed by a wave of relief. “Yes, please.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Dearest could you spare me a drop of some nsfw headcannons for amyas??? I've been scrolling through his tag and I agree with anon with the small pathetic ones being the doms while we peg the strong confident ones supremacy 😞✊.. Ofc you can write him however you want though, it's so funny how I'd drop him in a dark room full of spiders to ROT but be attracted to him at the same time LMAOOO anyway would love the face reveal king 👑

(Been a hot minute since we've summon the pathetic cupid to the table so I will grace you with his presence.) [Mentions of knife play (if you squint and somo)

Amyas can be your angel....or your twisted, perverted mess of an angel. It's all about where you set the grounds in your relationship. Given an inch, he will take a mile. Put him in his place, and he's your toy to command and break as you please.

Amyas lives by his personal moto of "weakness is power". He feels the cuter and more submissive he is, the more you'll love him - and see he's too helpless and weak to ever leave alone. He's watched you shower before and watched porn where he imagined you two as the actors - but pretends like he's never seen a human body before. To be fair, it's nothing like actually touch you so his shyness isn't a total act. He blushes and stammers as he asks you to take off his cardigan because he's too nervous getting undressed in front of someone so beautiful - but really he just wants you to touch him more...and you're pretty as hell.

That moto works just the same if you let him dom. He's so sweet and shy - you never would have guessed him to be the same freak that shoves his tongue down your windpipe until you nearly faint and grip your hips so forcefully they bruise with his finger marks. His praise comes off as thinly veiled degradation for you letting this worthless mess of a cupid do as he pleases with you - and how eternally grateful that worthless mess is. Want him to choke you he will make you see stars. If it's jealousy/angry sex, he will engrave his name into your collar with one of his arrows so everyone knows you belong to him and once he cools down he let's you mark him so people know he's yours too.

Speaking of his arrows, there are different types that cupids can possess. Amyas in charge of both "true love" and "heat of the moment" arrows. The first is - as the name implies, but the second is a little different. That burst of undeniable passion when two people who absolutely hate each other fuck, or when eyes meet across the bar for a one night stand the parties in question will never forget for the rest of their days. Amyas would never used his arrows on you.... unless he had to, but he would graze your skin with one of the latter. With just a small nick, the effects are temporary. He'll cut you again and again if he grows addicted to the faces and sounds you make. It's pretty much knife play with an aphrodisiac filled blade.

Whether you're breaking his back or he's breaking yours, Amyas likes a little bit of romantics thrown into the mix. You'll know the evenings plans with he's cooked you a full course meal and wears nothing but the apron he slaved away in. Maybe you want to eat dessert off his chest. He has the sensitive nipples to make it extra sweet with those sounds he makes. Candle lit bedroom, a playlist of all the songs that remind him of you, a nice bubble bath afterwards. Bird brain's got you covered.

Another sensitive point is his wings. You can pull him from his dominance streak with a sharp tug on his feathers, or stroking their base gently. Run your fingers down his spine where they meet and he will be putty in your lap.

Amyas finds your sleeping face to be extremely beautiful. I mean - you always are to him, but while you're asleep you're more angelic than him. If you don't know about his other side he will take this advantage to whisper every little dirty secret he has as he jerks off near you. He'd temp teasing those pretty lips with his cock, but he knows he's not worthy of such an honor and he'd probably end up just shoving it down your throat or cumming on the spot.

Cupid boy can really sing. Straight pipes on this one. It's best to make sure all windows are closed and maybe even soundproof your room with how loud he gets. He's a lot quieter if he's top, but that doesn't mean he shuts his mouth

As a final note, Amyas wears panties with bows on them. He's not a huge fan of boxers or other cuts of underwear - also they're just really cute and he likes putting on cute things for you.

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Gojo & Geto KFC Break up: A Reenactment

Summary: Read it if you want to laugh at peak JJK Brainrot. No woranings needed :)

A few hours ago, a classroom at Jujutsu Tech had resembled a warped fever dream more than a place of learning. Sunlight shone ominously over a makeshift KFC setup, complete with a curtain backdrop and a sharpie-painted sign reading "KFC—Sorcerer's Special: Fried Curses" dangling precariously.

The audience? Anyone unfortunate enough to be on campus—essentially everyone, since it was a workday—perched on foldable chairs, waiting. The room buzzed with confused chatter as rows of students and alumni filled the seats, their expressions a mix of bewilderment, annoyance, and existential crisis.

Mei Mei, bribed with a year’s supply of KFC biscuits, strutted forward holding a bedazzled megaphone. “Humans, sorcerers, half-cursed spirits, and freeloaders, welcome to the reenactment of a legend! This evening, you’ll witness heartbreak, betrayal, and fried chicken. Starring Yuki Tsukumo as the undeniably silliest sorcerer Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri as everyone’s favorite broody malewife, Suguru Geto!” She winked, earning groans from the crowd—except for Panda, who whispered to Yuta, “Prepare for war crimes.”

In the background, a fake window opened behind a counter littered with what might have once been chicken or rubber ducks. Sukuna, sporting a crumpled paper hat reading ‘SukuFry King’ and a greasy KFC apron, stuck his head out to advertise. “KFC—get your crispy, juicy pieces right here, while the drama unfolds!”

Hakari leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin on his face, and shouted, “Twenty bucks says this joint goes up in flames before the credits roll! Who’s in?”

Panda nodded.

In the center sat Toji Fushiguro, chained to his chair. His usual mysterious aura seemed muted by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“I don’t even like chicken that much,” he muttered, his voice flat. A sign taped to his chest read ‘DO NOT FEED THE MURDERER’, as if that was the real threat here. Most people didn’t recognize him, so they eyed him with suspicion.

Across the room, Sukuna held out a pink Barbie phone to his ear, pretending to call Toji while looking in another direction. “Shut it, Fushiguro Daddy. No one invited you to the feast; you’re just here for the vibes.” He spoke only loud enough for Toji to hear and scowl.

Suddenly, the Barbie phone blared “tunk tunk tun ta ra ra!” at full volume in his ear, echoing through the room. Sukuna jumped, nearly dropping the phone in the very real fryer, shooting a glare at it.

Just then, Yuki, playing Gojo, stormed onto the stage wearing a baby blue crop top that read "Being an atheist got boring, so I shall now be God" and a dollar-store ‘eyelash game savage’ blindfold beneath dark fake glasses. Her fluffy flip-flops slammed against the floor like she was declaring war and fighting on bad fashion’s side. “Everyone loves me,” she announced, arms outstretched like a runway model, pausing for effect. “But no one loves me like KFC chicken does—crispy, juicy, and always there for me!”

She then turned sharply, accidentally addressing the wrong side of the room, i.e., Sukuna, who turned her the right way with one hand over her head. “Suguru,” she intoned, dragging the name out like an eighties villain. “You promised to share in my eternal quest for... fried enlightenment! And if you don’t, I’ll unleash my secret weapon: the extra crispy dance!”

Todo, who had showed up uninvited (again), let out an enthusiastic whistle as Yuki flipped her hair—only for her white hair wig to fly off, revealing the shiniest bald cap anyone had ever seen. He leaped to his feet, clapping. “YES, QUEEN! SLAY!”

Meanwhile, Sukuna pulled out a megaphone he’d stolen from Inumaki. “KFC: Where chicken meets tragedy. Get your two-piece meals at the concession stand!”

Kusakabe raised a hand. “Uh, I thought this was a strategy meeting?”

Todo turned to him. “Kusakabe, my brother! Witness their youth!”

Kusakabe glared. “I will fail you.” Making Todo slump back into his chair.

Yuji leaned over to Megumi, whispering, “Did Todo hit his head again?”

Yuki, now firmly reattached to her wig, struck another pose. “KFC is my soulmate,” she declared, voice dripping with faux heartbreak. “But Suguru—Suguru thinks it’s Mid-FC! The betrayal!”

Sukuna, leaning forward like the Colonel’s most unhinged employee of the month, sneered. “Are you ordering chicken, or am I committing mass murder in five seconds?”

“No one asked you, Sukuna!” Yuki snapped, flinging a napkin at him. Sukuna caught it mid-air, incinerating it with a clawed hand.

From the side, Shoko shuffled forward, cosplaying Suguru Geto with a fake tattoo sleeve, red sparkly buttons on her earlobs, and a tangled, dusty wig being held together with thoughts and prayers in a hoodie titled ‘Cuntest sorcerer of the modern era’. She was carrying a KFC bucket. “Gojo, we need to talk,” she said, forcing her voice deepen into a raspy purr that sounded more I-smoked-all-week than brooding.

Yuki (Gojo) whirled around, her flair so exaggerated she smacked the bucket out of Shoko’s hands. “But why, Suguru?! Is it because I always steal the best pieces of chicken?”

As Shoko (Geto) began her breakup monologue about emotional neglect and chicken, Higuruma (playing Toji) crawled across the stage, like a centipede, toward the fallen chicken bucket. Toru hung around his neck playing wormie. "So... no one’s gonna eat that? Can I—?”

Shoko (Geto) slapped his hand away with disdain. “No, Toji.” She kicked the bucket out of his reach.

Panda’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a car backfiring.

Shoko (Geto) rubbed her temple, "Gojo, why do you always have to be like this? Why can’t you just order a normal meal like everyone else?" She was trying to keep a straight face but kept glancing at the beer can she’d snuck in.

Yuki (Gojo) looked at her, adjusting her blindfold and fake sunglasses, with betrayal. "Because I’m not like other boys, Suguru."

Junpei staired wide-eyed, muttering, “Is this normal?” Mimiko and Nanako patted his shoulders comfortingly.

“Yes,” Mimiko said, deadpan. “Everyone knows about this except for Gojo and Geto-sensei.”

Shoko (Geto) grabbed the bucket from Higuruma’s hands—he’d managed to pluck it from the floor—and tossed it into the audience, where it hit Ijichi square in the face.

Shoko (Geto) yelled, "Gojo, it was NEVER about the chicken. It was about YOU. Always YOU."

Sukuna (KFC employee) sounded suspiciously like a Keren out on hunt, saying, "Are you two gonna order something, or do I have to call homeless control? We have a literal two-piece deal even your broke sorcerer asses can afford—trust me, it’s more fulfilling than your entire life’s purpose!” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “And it comes with a side of regret!”

Yuki (Gojo) scowled at him, "Oh, this isn’t about chicken, King of Ass-Pull techniques. This is about principle!”

She turned to face Shoko, nearly knocking over the cardboard counter in the process.

Megumi groaned into his hands. “Why?”

Nobara slapped his back. “Shut up. This is the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Ino (as Shoko), fully committed to his role, burst through the side door, a fake cigarette dangling from his lips, looking incredibly done in Shoko’s high-school uniform that revealed his gorilla-level hairy legs. "I can’t have more of you both not communicating with each other and then coming to me crying about your feelings!" he bellowed, waving the fake cigarette around like a deranged conductor's baton. "I’m moving to med school to fake my studies.”

He propped one foot up on a chair, chest puffed out. "Next time you have a meltdown, try punching a wall or something! Seriously, I didn’t sign up for ‘Days of Our Lives: Extreme Oblivious Edition!"

Miguel (playing Ijichi), lugging an absurdly oversized notebook even for his frame, stumbled in after him. “Sensei! I’m taking attendance—oh no. Not again.”

Then from the other door, Choso (playing Nanami), in an absolutely horrendous business suit from the clearance bin, stormed in. "I’m DONE, Gojo. I quit Jujutsu Tech. I’m joining corporate and selling my soul. I don’t have time for fried chicken skits; I want to wake up eight years later and look at my balding head, then wonder where my youth went."

Yuki (Gojo) pointed at him. "You wouldn’t dare ruin my sunflower garden on your head!"

Maki, unimpressed, sighed, “This is why no one respects them.”

Sukuna (KFC employee) adjusted his crumpled paper hat, radiating despair. "Can someone please exorcise me already? No one appreciates the Colonel."

Yuki (Gojo), now focused again after her moment of ADHD, said, "You betrayed me when you ordered boneless chicken wings, Suguru."

Shoko (Geto) shot back, "They’re practical, Satoru!"

Higuruma (Toji), now sitting on the ground, held a cup out toward the audience. "Spare change? Anyone? Please. I’ll take KFC gift cards at this point." He paused, leaning toward Shoko. "Geto, buddy, a nugget? Anything? I’m starving."

Shoko (Geto) shot him a withering side-eye. "Not now, Toji. I’m having a quarter-life crisis."

Higuruma (Toji) nodded solemnly, then held the cup higher toward the crowd. "No worries. Continue. But seriously, just a bite?"

The real Toji groaned in the background, making Sukuna chuckle.

Panda tried to sneak some popcorn from Kirara’s stash, only to be slapped on the paw. Inumaki and Yuta sighed, sharing some shrimp chips with him.

Shoko (Geto), stormed to the counter and slapped down a crumpled 500-yen bill. "Satoru, for the last time, we are NOT ordering bones-only."

Across from her, Yuki (Gojo) leaned on the counter, radiating the kind of energy that came from seven whiskey shots too many. "It’s about the morals, Suguru,” she declared, wagging her finger. "Bones are the soul of fried chicken! How can you betray me by ordering—” She spat the words like a curse, “boneless chicken wings?”

Sukuna sighed from behind the counter, poking at a rubber chicken on a spatula. "This is KFC, not marriage counseling."

“Why am I here again?” Toji growled, tugging at the chains around his ankles, hoping they’d break and he’d make a run for it.

“Because you lost at Uno! Haha Loser!,” Sukuna mocked, a little too unhinged and happy, tossing a handful of napkins into the deep fryer for fun.

Yuki (Gojo) dropped to her knees, hands clutching at thin air like she was performing in a Shakespearean tragedy. "Suguru, don’t leave me! We’ve been through everything together—Mochi! Nanami’s bangs! Chicken!” Her voice cracked, as if each word was ripping her apart.

Within moments, she was sprawled on the floor, flailing her limbs like a soap opera actor who’d just discovered their long-lost twin was actually a disguised alien. "Think of the Nuggets, Suguru!" she wailed, her melodrama reaching new, uncharted heights.

Shoko (Geto) rolls her eyes, stepping back. “That’s exactly the problem, Gojo! You only think about yourself... and chicken!” She picks up the fallen bones-only KFC bucket, shaking it. “This... this symbolizes everything wrong with us.”

Sukuna (still KFC ambassador), now fully leaning out the KFC window, clicks his tongue. “Should’ve gone with the spicy tenders, Suguru. More flavor. Less heartbreak.”

Yuki (Gojo) stands, dusting herself off, looking stoic now. “Fine, Suguru. If you wanna leave... then go. But don’t come crawling back when you realize that no one, NO ONE, makes better chicken-related decisions than I do!”

Shoko (Geto) flips her dusty fake hair, then coughs as it spins around only to land in her mouth. “It’s over, Gojo. You’ve... changed. And it’s not just about the chicken anymore.” 

Somewhere in the back, Todo yelled, “Even Takada-chan loves bone-in chicken.” Earning side-eyes from everyone.

Then Dhoko (Geto) turned her back and continued, “Are you Gojo Satoru because you like bone-in fried chicken, or are you chicken because you hate boneless?" Weirdly enough, making Mimiko and Nanako shed a tear as the rest of the students eyed them awkwardly while Maki and Junpai rubbed their backs.

Higuruma (Toji), crawled back to his spot and sighed. “Breakups are hard, huh? To gain heavenly restriction against ‘em, spare a wing for a guy in need?” He sounded suspiciously like a sleazy pyramid scheme salesman peddling floor cleaner.

“Honestly,” he continued, with a mock-serious tone, “for just five easy payments of emotional trauma, you too can avoid heartbreak forever! Act now, and I’ll throw in a free set of emotional baggage, making you top tear Red-Flag!”

Kashimo (Haibara) floated aimlessly as a poorly conceived ghost prop, holding up a sign that read "Nanami’s fault."

Beside him, Choso (Nanami) buried his head in his hands. “Haibara, you lucky little shit, must be glad you died before witnessing this.”

The door slammed open again, hinges screeching like they were about to quit, as Yourozu (channeling Sukuna with the energy of a feral cryptid) covered in sharpie tattoos burst in, dual-wielding two buckets of KFC. “Yo, these trash humans should ditch the chicken and sell fried human toes!” She howled, spinning one bucket like a fidget spinner.

Before anyone could process the culinary war crime, Kashimo (Haibara), still in a white bedsheet covered with mysterious stains, phased into existence next to her like a glitch in the Matrix. “Honestly? This is the most alive I’ve felt in decades,” he muttered, chewing one enthusiastically.

Yourozu’s (Sukuna) eyes gleamed. “Picture it! Toes—crispy nails on the outside, chewy fleshy core on the inside—portable protein and calcium for cursed spirits on the go!”

Kashimo (Haibara) nodded, as if possessed by the spirit of a business bro (or just Nanami?). “You’re onto something. Pair it with sauces—spicy teriyaki, miso glaze, a dab of mayo. Go full Michelin.”

“‘Sukuna’s Special Toes’!” Yourozu (Sukuna) roared, arms raised like she’d just invented sliced bread. “Limited edition. Toes freshly cursed, aged for maximum crunch. Hurry up for Sukuna’s Toes Cumming near you.”

Kashimo (Haibara), still glowing and looking like a horror movie side character who’s about to narrate the end of the world, declared, “I’d throw my life savings at that. Beats playing ‘haunted tag’ for eternity.”

The room was silent—in horror—as they stared at Yourozu mimicking Sukuna’s trademark smirk, now directed at a chicken nugget she was calling “toe prototype.”

In the middle of it all, Toji was the only one snickering, making real Sukuna chuck his Barbie phone at him from the KFC booth. The phone broke into a million pieces on impact with Toji’s skull before scattering on the floor.

Higuruma (Toji) slides over to real Toji, holding up his empty cup. “Spare change?”

Real Toji handed him a KFC coupon from his back pocket. “Here, go nuts.”

Higuruma’s eyes light up, holding the coupon like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Now this is the kind of happy ending I deserve.”

Miguel (Ijichi) muttered to himself like a malfunctioning NPC. “One day... one day I’ll grow up to be big and strong... like my amazing senpais…” His voice wobbled, trembling like he was on the verge of tears—or self-combustion—but the sheer tension radiating off him made him look less like a sad little intern and more like an excavator about to explode in the middle of rush hour. His hands shook as he clutched a clipboard for dear life, but his expression screamed, ‘Please don’t ask me how I’m doing,’ while his aura screamed, ‘Ask and you’ll die.’

Real Ijichi looked at him like he was regretting life decisions. “Was I really this pathetic as a junior?” he whispered to himself, trembling. Akari nodded next to him.

Kusakabe folded his arms. “I was told this was a cursed spirit seminar. Where’s the educational value?”

Todo shouted from the back, "The only education you need is learning what kind of woman orders boneless chicken!”

“That’s it! You will be failed AND SUSPENDED from the Sister School Exchange Event. I’ll also ban your entry here so you can’t see Itadori!” Kusakabe yelled while Ijichi tried to calm him down.

Without another word, Todo sat back down. Yuji breathed a sigh of relief.

Back at the counter, Yuki (Gojo) had fully climbed onto the counter, pointing at Shoko (Geto).

“You call yourself my best friend—my soulmate, Suguru—and you order BON—" she choked on the word, “—LESS?!”

Shoko (Geto), completely unfazed, popped a cigarette into her mouth and lit it with the fire emanating from Sukuna’s deep fryer. “They’re practical, Satoru. You don’t have to deal with bones when you’re hungover or just returned from swallowing balls.”

Yuki (Gojo) bellowed.

Panda leaned over to Hakari and whispered, “This is why mammals don’t need wings.”

Hakari nodded.

Yuta stared blankly at the scene unfolding before him, slumped between Panda and Inumaki. “I thought turning my ex-girlfriend into a curse was the lowest point of my life,” he said.

“Same,” Maki replied from the front, rubbing her temples.

Megumi groaned. “This is an insult to women and fried chicken.”

Yuki (Gojo) turned her attention to Sukuna. “You’re the employee here! Tell him he’s wrong!”

Sukuna, now wearing his KFC hat at a jaunty angle, barked out a laugh. “Listen, ‘Delulu iz D Solulu’ ambassador, I just work here.” He sneered, pointing a rubber chicken drumstick like a scepter. “But let me tell you this—no one who orders boneless chicken respects themselves. Or anyone else. They’re the spiritual equivalent of someone who microwaves ice cream.”

The room gasped in collective horror, except for Yuji, who looked genuinely curious about microwaved ice cream. “Does it melt faster?” he whispered to Hakari, who groaned and rubbed his temples.

Real Toji, visibly done with everyone’s nonsense, muttered, “I’ve killed men for less.”

“Shut up, Toji,” Yuki snapped, chucking a ketchup packet at him. “You’re only here because Sukuna thought it’d be funny.”

“Damn right, it’s funny,” Sukuna quipped, flipping rubber ducks in the fryer.

The crowd noise reached a crescendo when Shoko (Geto) grabbed a tray of fries and shoved them at Yuki. “Fine! If you’re so obsessed with bones, why don’t you eat these? They're BONES of the potato world!”

The insult hit harder than expected. Yuki (Gojo) gasped, clutched her chest like she’d been stabbed, and fell onto the counter.

“I—CAN’T—BELIEVE THIS—” she wailed.

Choso (Nanami) yelled from the audience, “Haibara, take me now!”

Kusakabe muttered, "You idiots called me from Kyoto for this?"

Akari sighed. “It’s a recurring nightmare; just go with it. It’ll be over soon.”

Soon Shoko (Geto) threw her cigarette into the fryer. The grease exploded.

Ino (Shoko) yelled from the door, “The principal’s on the way! Save yourselves, peasants!” He bellowed then, without missing a beat, hitched up his (Shoko’s high school) skirt like a Disney princess mid-escape and yeeted himself out the nearest window, purple boxers on full display like a chaotic pride flag. He landed in a somersault that was either pure James Bond or budget Brokeback Mountain, depending on how you squinted, before taking off with all the grace of a pigeon dodging traffic.

Sukuna burst through his cardboard KFC window in a single fluid motion, like an Olympian who moonlighted as a feral mothman. With zero hesitation, he grabbed Real Toji by the collar and yeeted him like a human projectile. The chair and Toji soared through the air in cursed synchronization before crashing into the nearest bush with a sound so loud it startled three crows into orbit.

Quickly turning around, Sukuna then yelled out. “Alright, that’s it. Everyone get out before I curse this entire campus for being budgetarily impaired. I swear, even the vending machines are in a dollar drought.”

Todo stood up. “You can’t curse me; I’m too strong.”

“Shut up, best friendo,” Nobara snapped, kicking the back of his chair.

Yaga stormed in, looking like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds, forced to babysit an entire fraternity. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING?!” he roared, veins on his forehead threatening mutiny.

Higuruma (Toji but with none of the chill) bolted upright like a startled meerkat, clutching his KFC coupon like it was the last horcrux. “I’m out!” He ran offstage, tripping over Yuki, who was sprawled out on the floor. Making Toru abandon him for Megumi.

Meanwhile, Shoko—now in a baldcap (she had flung her Suguru wig without looking, making it land atop Todo)—was casually guiding Yuki offstage by dragging her flip-flop-clad feet, as Yuki grabbed random stage props since she still couldn’t see through her Hellen Killer blindfold and fake sunglasses combo. “Just... pretend you had cataract surgery,” Shoko whispered. “But don’t quote me; I’m not an ophthalmologist.”

Todo, now crowned by the discarded rag-like wig, was deep in character as Takada-chan’s split personality, striking a pose. “Shake ‘em buns,” he intoned with grave sincerity, the words heavy with meaning only he could comprehend.

Mei Mei, still holding the megaphone, announced smugly, “And that concludes tonight’s performance! Tips are accepted in cash or chicken.”

Sukuna tips his paper KFC hat. “Always a pleasure, Yaga. If you ever need us for another reenactment—”

Yaga cuts him off, pointing to the door. “I’d rather face Mahito.”

As the “actors” leave the stage, Higuruma (Toji) waves his KFC coupon in the air, victorious.

“Take that! Student Debt!” then turns face and runs away when Yaga gives him a death glare.

Yaga sighed as the students scrambled to leave, laughter echoing down the halls.

“Next time,” Yaga growled in the hallway, “I’m calling the Zen’in clan to babysit you all.”

Sukuna shrugged. “Good luck with that; strong ones are already here.”

But before Yaga could question him, the curtains fell—they really fell because Yuji decided to lean on them like they were a support group for his Paranormal Finger Munchies. “...My bad,” he muttered, slowly backing away.

Megumi sighed and turned away in embarrassment, with Toru, who was apparently the real protagonist of this story (in her mind), and began walking off in silent protest. Toru, nestled in his arms, purred loudly while striking poses that screamed, Servant, paint me like your French girls, her little primordial pouch hangin out like it’s own cursed womb.

“HEY! My turn to hold Toru!” Nobara yelled, storming after them with the energy of a rabid raccoon. She grabbed at Toru’s tail, but Megumi expertly pivoted, keeping the cat out of her reach like they were playing keep-away with a sacred relic. Panda tried to go after Nobara to stop her but was tackled by Maki and Kirara for lunch money he promised he’d pay them back.

Toru winked at Nobara. If cats could flip people off, she absolutely would have.

Meanwhile, Inumaki had somehow managed to snatch Toru’s tiny sunglasses and was attempting to wear them over one eye. The result? He looked like a certain one-eyed cryptid who’d stumbled out of the depths of urban legend forums.

“Shake!” Inumaki declared, striking a pose.

“Give those back before you snap them,” Yuta ran after him, diving to wrestle the sunglasses out of Inumaki’s hands. But Inumaki was faster, shimmying his shoulders like a little gremlin, the glasses barely hanging on as he cackled in triumph.

The scene devolved further when Nobara tackled Megumi, sending both of them—and Toru—tumbling to the ground along with Maki, Kirara, and Junpei. Hakari took pictures for blackmail later. Toru leapt out unscathed, jumping into Ijichi’s arms, who held her like a bomb waiting to explode before passing her off to Kusakabe, where she purred like she’d planned it all along.

“Finally, someone in this room with taste,” Sukuna muttered, placing the KFC paper hat on Toru’s head. Akari leaped into action like a caffeinated kangaroo, ready to snap pictures of Toru: the Kaisen to our Jujutsu’s official Instagram page; yes, Toru had an Instagram page now in only 12 hours of arrival.

Yuji whispered to Nanako and Mimiko, “Do you guys think Toru likes boneless chicken?”

Sukuna turned sharply, his glare a thousand curses being unleashed at once. “Don’t you dare, brat.”

Choso and Kashimo sprinted into the practice grounds. “Take me now, best friend!" Choso (Nanami) yelled at Kashimo, who tried to float away only to bump into a pole with a reverberating clang, due to him still being in the white bedsheet.

The chaos reached a fever pitch, props flying and nonsensical shouting echoing across the school grounds. Then, the intercom crackled to life with Gojo’s unmistakably irritated voice.

“Whoever’s using my name for this nonsense,” he drawled, his tone sharp enough to cut glass, “meet me on the roof in five minutes. I’m bringing purple.”

Dead silence fell over the scene, everyone frozen mid-chaos like cursed mannequins.

Then, another voice rang out, smooth and resonant, with a cadence that could only belong to one person. “I’ll bring Ratio.”

Before anyone could process, another voice—Geto’s—purred smoothly through the speakers. “And you know what I’ll bring.”

From the far end of the grounds, Yuki, still being dragged unceremoniously by Shoko, cheered loudly, “Spicy Cunt!” Then proceeded to clap like she had won Family Feud, her whiskey count showing.

Shoko groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she dragged Yuki faster. “Why are you making this harder, woman?!”

Panic erupted. Every actor scrambled like rats off a sinking ship, tossing clothes, props, and fragments of dignity to the wind as they bolted in random directions. Each was determined to pretend they had absolutely nothing to do with whatever Gojo was about to obliterate from existence.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist