#tiny king of the drums

[aquareegia]

(idk if all of these have been shared already, but these are thumbnails from Brandon Toews' insta)

[ruinme-please]

~ ii vibing to Nazareth ~

[politemagic]

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over how truly talented II is. watching him play the drums is so entrancing because he makes it look so effortless, and the thought and passion he puts into his music is so palpable. he deserves every ounce of recognition because he is just incredibly gifted

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Soul's Signature Scent

✧ “Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.” - Patrick Süskind

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, I'm a rambler and I love going off track. One pile got a mini wattpad story. CHEERS!

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✴︎ Pile One ✴︎ (King of Pentacles, 3oP, Knight of Swords, 9oS, 1, Ascension, Worthy,)

Not to be weird but I’d sniff you like rich frat boy coke.

It's hard to describe scents so… walk with me.

You have had a long, stressful day and the world is pissing you off. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place so after work, you open Google Maps in hopes of temporary solace with cheap liquor and bar food. You find one of those dingy sports bars with shitty beer, sticky tables, and drunk grown men yelling at a tiny wall-mounted television.

Not exactly your cup of tea, but as the French say… C’est la vie!

You practically had to beat half of the bar off with a stick, just to find a seat. Drunk old guys + A Pretty Pile One = Sloppy, slurred marriage proposals(?) You couldn’t tell, but “I wanna bring you home to my mama” sounds close enough.

You pay them no mind. You have one goal. Get fucked up. Don’t throw up.

Okay, maybe two goals.

You finally find a stool and raise a finger to signal the bartender.  

“Hey, bartender! BAR-”

“I see you. Don’t call to me.” 

A nervous drop in your stomach almost tips you off your stool. You feel them before you see them. Every bottle clink they make reverberates to that pit in your stomach. You only hear the bartender’s movements among a crowd of bustling people: their shoes stick and unstick to the floor, their fake chuckles at guests’ jokes, every time their hand slides across the bar to collect bills.

Maybe it’s delusion but you’re convinced you hear the steady drum of their heartbeat. 

You finally get a good look at the bartender. In a sea of hostile people drowning themselves to forget their sorrows, you see the calmest, most fearless person in the room. Squared shoulders, back straight, head held high, and the smoothest walk you’ve ever seen; they almost glide.

You watch in complete admiration as they de-escalate a fight, sanitize bar taps, count money, and make a drink all in one go. You haven’t spoken more than two full words to this person but something about their presence makes you want to kneel.

The bartender finally makes their way to you and their eyes lock with yours. Your neck begins to sweat so you quickly dart your head away. A deep, velvety chuckle comes from the pits of their stomach, “Don’t show me you're nervous, I usually charge the Bambis more.”

“Bambis?”

“You’re shivering like a scared little deer, aren't you?”

You have no words so you focus on twisting your hands under the tables. 

They find you cute. With another chuckle they lean in closer to you, “I’ll tell you what, how about I make you a drink to calm you a little, yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ll take a-” Before you could even tell them what you want, their back is to you making a concoction.

Forty-five seconds later, a glass of honey bourbon with an orange slice and a vanilla bean stick slides in your direction. Along with a… cigar?

“I doubt you can handle this, but I want to see you sweat.”

Hands shaky, you press the glass to your lips as the bartender guides you, “Take it slow. Let it sit. Savor it.”

You came in here looking for cheap booze and a deep sense of impending regret, but here you are drinking $400 bourbon you can’t afford and hanging off of every syllable this person says to you.

After a slow sip and a burn behind the ears, you ask, “How do you do that?”

They raise their brow.

“Ya know… command like that.”

They whip a towel over their shoulder, “Once you realize how scared and hurt everyone actually is, worthiness feels less unattainable.”

BAHAHAHA THAT ENDING WAS SO CORNY (and kinda ominous??) BUT THIS IS GETTING LONG AND THIS AINT WATTPAD.

In summary, your soul has a very effortlessly commanding signature. Even if you aren’t aware, your energy dominates every space it enters. You might have people who seem to dislike you for no reason, this is why. BUT YES, a sweet bourbon with a hint of citrus and something smoked on the side is 100% your signature. Also… Petrichor. Your soul scent is the sweetened waft of smoked wood beneath grit and the smell of wet Earth after a storm. 

"Can You Taste The Spice On My Lips?"

✴︎ Pile Two ✴︎ (9oP, 10oP, King of Wands, Lust)

✴︎ BAEEEE, don’t fucking play with me. Your soul just told me to take my shoes off in your million-dollar mansion. You told me to stop acting like a fucking hooligan???

There is a richness to you down to your very core. I’m getting Pushya, the most auspicious nakshatra representing wealth, prosperity, and milk (divine nourishment). But there is also a spiciness here.

SPICED CHAI MILK TEA. That is the scent that jumps out to me. The hominess of full-bodied, sweet cinnamon. The spicy warmth of red chai. Maybe even a little nutty, Spanish almond if you’re feeling crazy.

There is also a gradual build-up here. All earth signs, but primarily Taurus. There is this steady, sensual accumulation of your energy. You cannot be rushed, you savor moments and allow yourself to rest in all the sensations you experience in the present. If you don’t do this, your soul is calling you to do this. Slow down. Chew slower, shower longer, and take time out of your morning to listen to the birds sing. 

The leisurely flow of the universe is inviting you to join its dance. You are safe. You are provided for. The universe is your sugar daddy. Your guides want you to know that what you want, wants you; you just need to slow down.

I sense that your energy is aphrodisiacal. Your sacral chakra is one of your dominant chakras (could be healthy or a leak but it is prominent) and when people enter your presence their chakra gets activated too. People get creative and fiery near you. If their sacral chakra is blocked, this may be repressed and they can hold resentment for the free-flowing energy you have which they feel they lack. 

Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. That word is used a lot in this community and you may be tired of hearing it but that's too damn bad! You’re very fucking abundant.

If this puzzles you because you look around and don't see whatever you picture as abundance, it's because it's sitting within you waiting for you to actualize it. You have the skills, the intellect, and everything else under the sun needed to grab your dreams by the balls. I cannot stress this enough.

Go outside, journal, continue your affirmations, and remove yourself from anything lying to you and saying you cannot do this. It is a fucking lie. You have everything it takes to do what the world says is impossible. Shut the world’s opinion out and turn inwardly for your answers, because you have them.  

Ambrosia. Liquid gold. It flows through you. You are the gift. The universe’s greatest gift to you is you. You have the ability to spin anything into gold. 

I have some doomscrollers, spirallers, and people-pleasers in this pile. You may struggle with excess anxiety, digestive issues, acid reflux, and ulcers. Outside influences have tricked you into believing you are a pebble when you’re actually a diamond. 

Baby, you have to cut them off. By “them” I mean all negative energies that cause your mind to get stuck in a loop of self-hate. That includes social media, bad habits, fake relationships. Your solitude will heal you. Your peace of mind will heal you. Once you shut up the naysayers, you’ll finally hear the music that has been drowned out in your body and soul.

I know this is a lot but it is worth the effort. Your potential is worth the effort. A healthy state of mind is worth the effort. You are worth the effort. 

Sidenote: The star and temperance came out while I was cleaning up. BABY YOU A STAR IN THE MF MAKING!

"The great merit of gold is precisely that it is scarce”

✴︎ Pile Three ✴︎ (The World, 6oW, 2oW)

🎵Nowadays, I be duckin' them cameras

And they hype that I'm up on them banners

Callin' my phone, but they know I don't answer (why?)

In the hood, I'm like Princess Diana (grrah) 🎵

✴︎ THE PEOPLE 'S PRINCESS (or prince… orrrr the #1 baddest barnacle in the seven seas, whatever fits).

3, “The creative child” and 6, “The Caretaker” came out. 3 is the number of self-expression and creativity. 6 is the most harmonious number centered around nurturing your community. In the world, you’re the center of attention. In the 6 of Wands, you’re the one decked out in Dolce and Gabanna, playing Robin Hood and giving to the people. In the 2 of wands, you quite literally have the world in your palm.

Your soul’s footprint is destined to be seen and recognized. Baby, you are meant to be loved by the world at large. 

Maybe you have aspirations of becoming an artist, actress, or influencer. If you have dreams of being in the public eye, I am telling you your desires are not coincidental. You are meant for these dreams so do not be afraid to actualize them. The stars are expecting you, your home is in the spotlight.

Everyone incarnates on Earth with a role and purpose, you are meant to have a large platform because what you have to say matters and will elevate our collective consciousness. You have the gift of being able to garner great attention. People like to see you, talk to you, see what you’re wearing, know about your life, and everything else in between. People are like moths to a flame with you, you’re an entertainer to your very core.

You have a youthful, creative, and colorful soul. 

I am getting strong floral scents mixed with a crisp, clean linen smell. Gardenia, Ylnag Ylnag, Cherry Blossom, and Honey Suckle. I just know the bees be tearing your nectary ass up.

You know how Ariana Grande’s perfume line is always sold out? It’s kind of like that. “Oh, Pile Three is wearing this perfume? PUT IT IN THE CART. NEOW.”

Strong Venusian energy. Libra, Taurus, Pisces, 2nd house (especially for my singers), 7th house, Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purvashada.

People find you very attractive. Yes, physically so, but the true embodiment of beauty stems from the soul. And you are utterly gorgeous. I am getting snow white; the animals flock to her, the sky clears for her, the seas part for her, and the forest protects her.

I am not trying to be redundant but this Earth does not play about you😭. That doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced hardship but trust, you will get the love you crave, tenfold. 

I get the sense that love has felt very conditional in your life and once the metaphorical “love pie” was cut and served, you were served last and there was never enough for you.

I am going to hold your hand as I say this,

Feel this pain. Process this pain fully. Cry all your tears, scream your sorrows out in the open, and let the winds carry it away. Let these feelings of being unloved leave your body because there is no space for them anymore. Eternal love is flowing in to fill those empty cavities. You are so loved. I am so sorry the environment around you has blocked this energy but please know that justice will be served and the love you are karmically owed is growing within you and you will be seen in this lifetime.

COME BACK TO THIS WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS AND DON’T FORGET ME.

You better not go Hollywood on me 🫵

The Cosmos' Countess

✴︎ Pile Four ✴︎ (The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, 5 of Swords)

✴︎ Random, but have you heard stories of those cool warrior monks? Who devotes themselves to their practice but when it’s time for battle they whoop ass?? That’s so you, boo.

You’re all peace, love, and light but you don’t fucking play about protecting your peace of mind. I sense that you live an alternative lifestyle. With the hanged man, you see life differently from the average person, and don’t waste your time with the world’s bullshit. 

You’re not on Twitter arguing about Drake’s tummy tuck (BAHAHA I HAD TO), you know shit like this doesn’t add to your life in any way. You focus your energy on activities and discussions that add to your self-evolution. You have made lots of sacrifices in life to progress forward and the universe sees your hard work and is proud of you. Hell, even I’m proud of you. 

You and the Universe like this 🤞. Here’s an affirmation that already rings true but is good to practice anyway, “I surrender to the natural flow of all existence.”

A lot of you study esoteric divinity practices. Tarot, scrying, rune-casting, psychometry, etc. We also have some healers. This may ruffle some feathers. Maybe your family or friend circle doesn’t understand your interests and may push against it but quite frankly… you don’t give a fuck. 

As you shouldn’t.

Your self-resolutions are impressive. You may feel nervous at times but your faith in yourself makes you fearless. You’ve done your studying. You’ve done your healing. You're ready to take the world by storm, and nothing is knocking you off your horse. You are the first to ride into battle and will be the last standing. I don’t know if you’re aware but you thrive in conflict, your soul spirit is akin to Martian energy and loves a good fight, to be honest. 

Your power is in your belief that everything will work out in your favor. “I have the power of God and anime on my side.” 

If you’re not quite at this level yet and you don’t see yourself as this peaceful warrior, you got the “soothe”, “present”, and “friendship” cards. It’s your nerves, baby. It has nothing to do with you as a person. You are smart enough. You are capable. You have everything you need to ride into this new life. 

The entire collective is being asked to slow down. The hustle in society right now does not allow our nervous systems to regulate themselves so everyone is miserable and drained. Remove yourself from this hustle and ground yourself in the present. You have to soothe yourself and lower your cortisol levels. Baby yourself, you deserve it.

Look up techniques to regulate your parasympathetic nervous on YouTube.

Anyway, your soul caught me off guard, you're that sexy mf fr. Ummm back to scent..

YES, okay so please don’t take this the wrong way because I am obsessed with what I'm getting. Hear me out, I used to take kickboxing classes for a few years and that particular gym’s scent was my favorite fucking scent. 

It sounds weird but it smelled like pent-up stress relief: sweat, blood, and Clorox. 

Of course, I’m not saying you smell like this, but this is how I perceive the scent your soul carries.

Your soul’s scent is victory. Particularly, through a bloody means. Your soul understands the purification in blood. Extremely Martian. You’re chill but you’re really fucking intense dude. I like you.

Oooo and also, hang out with friends!! Genuine contact can help relax your body.

Mmmkaye bye!

The Blood You Spill Is The Blood of Kings

[gxthicwxrm]

Hi! Saw you were looking for hotd requests.

How about arranged marriage au with Daemon x fem!reader. They have 1 or more kids but Daemon doesn't seem to like her. After an attack on her and the kids (she's a trained assassin/warrior), he realizes how much she does for them. Maybe she goes unconscious for a few days and Daemon has to look after the kids.

Ignore this if you don't want to do it! But thanks and have a good day!

Hello! I am so sorry for the late reply!! I did a few changes, I hope you don't mind. I plan to use this prompt for Aemomd and Aegon as well. However I hope you enjoy!!

Fire Like A Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader

Warning: blood, assault, mentions of rape and murder, angst

Word Count: 1,907

Masterlist - Part Two

---

You drums you fingers against your swollen belly, feeling little feet meeting the flesh beneath your hands. "Hello, my little love." You hum to the unborn baby that dances in your stomach while the baby's father disappears somewhere, surely his doting niece following closely behind. 

You have been married to Daemon long enough to know the feelings he has for his niece, even if he doesn't realize himself. His neglect of husbandry duties always increased as we spent time in King's Landing, nearing the Princess of Dragonstone. However, you didn't blame your husband's inability to love you, on the Princess or even her lover. Sometimes people just don't love each other.

Giving up long ago for his affection, you decided to make the best of your time with simple pleasures: reading in the garden, learning to cook with the maidens, painting with the richest of colors. Quickly, you adapted to the riches of the Targaryen's royalty which dulled the ache you felt for her husband. 

The night of the wedding, the pair never consummated the marriage, it left you feeling like a pawn in a game. He stumbled in drunk, tripping over his feet before dragging himself up the bed, practically crawling towards you. Unable to deny your growing love for this mess of a man, you reached your hand out and guided him towards yourself. 

Slowly, he looked up at you before clasping your cheeks in his hands, pressing his cold lips against your warm ones. Hungrily, his hands fly to your sides and pull you against his bare chest. Moaning into your kiss, both sets of hands begin exploring each other. For once, you felt at home, like this was how the two of you were supposed to be, together. However, your bliss died when his lips whispered one that was far from your own.

"Oh, Rhaenyra!" He mumbles into the flesh of your neck, leaving little bruises training down your chest as he moves towards your breast. His words crash around in your head as you lay beneath Daemon who finishes and falls asleep beside you, wordlessly.

Despite the pain of that night, you gained motherhood. Daemon was happy to be a father, scared but happy. He never told you, but you could tell when he'd ghost his hand over your bump or give you an extra piece of bread with dinner. He even held your hand during the birth of your daughter, Alysannne.  He may not love you, but he loves his child. Although, a small part of you wished this child would make him love you. You were naive to think Daemon would ever love you.

But, years have passed since your daughter was born. Alys is five, running around her father as he brushes Caraxes in the Dragonpit. 

"Mommy!" Her tiny voice echoes on the stone walls once she sees you walking towards herself and her father. Looking up, Daemon's eyes meet yours, offering a small smile before turning back to the huffing Caraxes. 

"Hello, my little one. What are you doing out here? Look at you, you are all dirty!" You pick at your daughter's ripped gown, covered in soot. 

"We were playing with Caraxes! Daddy said he'd let me fly with him!!" The little girl runs between her parents and the Blood Wyrm, kissing the dragon's cheek as she pets him. 

"Well, she is her father's daughter." Daemon chuckles, putting his hand on the small of your back as Alys dances around in front of you, twirling her ruined skirt. Affection from him was no longer rare but quick. His thumb caresses the exposed skin of your back, soothing the pain of carrying a child. His unused hand finds itself cupping your belly.

"How has he been treating you, today?" Daemon's smooth voice steals your attention from the girl before you. Looking down at his hands, you rest yours beside his but he moves, so his fingers are right over yours.

"He's been good. Hasn't been kicking me a ridiculous amount which is a new change of pace." Your attempt at a joke brings a smile to your husband's face who kneels down before you and kisses your clothed belly, much to your surprise.

"Be good for your mother. Cherish her, my little Dragon." He whispers, but you were still able to here his words. Standing back up, he cups your face.

"I'm going to take Alys flying before she makes Caraxes eat me. He listens to her more and more these days." With a peck on your cheek, he's running towards his daughter and his dragon. 

"Don't forget Alysanne needs to bathe before dinner with your brother. She may be a dragon but she will not smell like one." You call them, laughing at your own words. 

"Yes ma'am." Daemon smiles at you before telling Caraxes to fly,just streaks of red melding into the blue sky above. 

Waiting for your family, you sit in your chambers, rubbing oils on your stretched belly while the water for Alysanne is being gathered by your maids.

Grabbing a book from Daemon's bedside table, you absently flip through the pages; glimpses of words and stories fly by along with the pages.

A creak of the door alerts you, bring you to your feet as you cover your stomach with the slits of your gown.

"Mommy! We flew so high!" Alysanne pushed the door open enough to slide between the wood, running to her mother's side, a severant boy coming in behind her with two buckets of hot water. Alysanne leans into your side as you take in the dirt covering her face.

"Oh, my little girl, what did they do to you? Did they roast you?" You giggle, tickling at her sides. The servant moved slowly beside you as he filled the white tub.

"No, I roasted them, mwah ha ha." She laughs, stomping and pretending to breathe fire as she runs around you in circles.

"Okay my dragon rider. It's time to bathe. Come on." She taps her daughter's shoulders, moving her towards the steaming bath. Looking towards the lingering servant, Y/N felt bad dismissing him but was cautious why he was staying so long.

"Thank you, sir. Your kindness won't be forgotten." You turn towards your child and still feeling the man in your room, pull the curtain around the tub closed, canceling your still clothed daughter. She was eerie of this man in their room, unsure what to think of him.

Slowly, he straightens to look you in the eye, a cold shiver runs through your body as you see the glint of a dagger in his hand. 

"No! Guards! Daemon!" You shout as the man lunges, knife pointed towards your belly. The man kept coming at you, backing you in the furthest corner away from your daughter, who peeked from the curtain. Moving to run around him, his arm grabbed you by the stomach and shoved you down. Flying backward, your head hits the ground, a loud crack echoing through your mind as you look around for a weapon. The man is stalking you while you try to move toward the bed across you. You knew Daemon kept a dagger under the left-hand side of the mattress. If you could just get to it, you could save your children's lives.

The sound of glass breaking stops you and your attacker, both looking toward the direction of the crash. The tub. 

A fear like no other took over you as the man started towards your daughter's hiding spot. Reaching for his legs, you try to pull him down, screaming but to no avail as he kicks you. One landing in your swollen belly, making black dots cloud your vision. Wetness trickles down the side of your face, but you keep dragging yourself behind this man, desperate to stop him from hurting your child. 

Using the table nearest, you pull yourself up and grab Daemon's letter opener. This man would not leave this room alive; you'd make sure of it even if you died trying. The man throws open the curtain but pauses. Creeping behind him, you see Alysanne isn't behind the curtain anymore. 

"Where is she?" The man asked himself. He turns, locking eyes with you before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you to your knees. "I said," Where is she? You dumb bitch!" He goes to smack you but stops as you shove the letter opener into his hand. Letting you go, you drop back down before dragging yourself to your feet.

"You fucking cunt! I was going to let it be quick, but now you will watch me rape your little girl and slit her throat before I do the same to you." He spits, pulling the blade from his hand and coming at you. His words once would've made you cower and hide, but now light you up like a flame. A fire burned in you to keep going and fighting despite the pain radiating over your body.

"You won't lay a finger on her. Over my dead body." You knew this would be a fight you'd lose. You have no weapons, training, or husband to protect you. It was up to you to protect these children, and you would do it even if it killed you. The Man grabs at you again, but you slap, scratch, and claw at his face this time. His hands find their way around your throat while yours dig into his eyes, a gut-wrenching scream comes from the man as he yanks away from you, but you don't stop. Lunging at him, you push his body against the tub, hitting his head before you wail on his chest, tears flowing down your face as the man beneath you go limp.

A scream of frustration leaves your throat raw as the adrenaline leaves your body. 

"Alysanne? It's okay to come out now, darling. It's okay." Your thoughts cleared. Where is your daughter? Stumbling off the man, you pull yourself up and turn, trying to find your daughter, when suddenly she slides from under the bed, rushing to your side. 

"M-mommy! I thought, I thought he was-" 

"Shh, it's okay now. Everything is going to be okay." You hold her to your chest, trying to soothe your nerves. The door swings open to your relief, and Daemon rushes in, sword drawn with the Gold Cloaks rushing in behind him.

"What happened? Are you okay? Alysanne? The baby?" Daemon's questions shoot at you, each before the words can find you. Staring up at him, blood smeared across your face, bruises forming, and tears filling your eyes. Daemon has never seen you like this and never plans to again.

"Mommy killed the bad guy. He tried to hurt us, but she saved us!" Your daughter summarizes to her father, who turns to his wife, shocked, before pulling her and her daughter into his arms, kissing each other on their foreheads. He always thought she lacked the fire a Targaryen has. But at every turn, she has proved him wrong. Not only did she give him a dragon and another coming, but she became one in the process.

[huicitawrites]

Diaries of the Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Heian Sukuna x Fem! Reader tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Diary Entry #?, The Harvest Festival

all entries

-It has been two years since you've become his priestess.

You sit on your knees, head bowed, the scarlet hakama folded perfectly beneath you, your pristine white kosode a mockery of the purity expected of a priestess.

What a joke, you think bitterly.

The being in front of you is far from holy—he is the devil incarnate, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses.

Hesitantly, you peel one eye open.

His huge, muscular form sits without a care for modesty, one knee raised, the other placed open, his four arms slouching around his body. His four bloodshot eyes hold no emotion, and his two-sided face remains blank. The harvest festival, so sacred to the people, means nothing to him. All that mattered was that he would be revered.

They would pray to him, treat him as a god, and with that thought, his ego was fed. His lips twisted into a smug smile.

You felt dirty despite your clean robes. After all, being his priestess meant serving his blasphemy.

His grin caught your attention, and your eyes were drawn to his face. But when his gaze locked with yours, you quickly looked away.

You heard a deep chuckle rumble through his broad chest.

You despised making eye contact with him. You couldn’t bear those crimson, bloodshot eyes. They were seared into your memory, a scar etched into your soul on that day.

The day your clan was massacred. In your weakness, you surrendered to his mercy and betrayed the legacy of your parents. You became his ‘priestess.’

A fancy title for a slave, nothing more—a pawn in the hands of the King of Curses who sought to be a god. A God of Chaos, a God of Suffering, a God of Carnage.

The drums began, a slow, steady thud that echoed through the temple halls, shaking you from your thoughts. The festival was starting. You remained kneeling beside Sukuna, just behind his massive form, your hands folded neatly in front of you. The beat of the drums reverberated in your chest, growing louder with each passing moment, as the priests below began their solemn procession.

They moved in tandem, their steps perfectly synchronized with the rhythm, white robes swaying like ghostly apparitions. Incense wafted into the air, thick and cloying, its sweet scent filling the temple as it curled upward to the dark rafters. You felt trapped beneath the weight of it all: the suffocating smoke, the oppressive atmosphere, and the sheer force of Sukuna’s cursed energy beside you.

The chanting began, a deep, guttural sound that filled the courtyard. Ancient words, meant to honor the gods, now twisted in purpose, directed at the devil sitting next to you. The villagers and priests alike believed this to be a sacred festival, a prayer for a prosperous harvest, but you knew the truth.

This was no prayer to the gods. This was a celebration of him, Ryomen Sukuna, so that he may be more willing to spare their lives. The villagers and priests would leave tonight, grateful just to have survived the day under his gaze.

You glanced at Sukuna again, careful not to meet his eyes this time. His expression was as indifferent as ever, his four eyes half-lidded in boredom. One arm rested lazily on his knee, while the others hung loosely by his sides. Uraume stood by his right side, ever faithful, the perfect servant.

The villagers knelt outside the temple, their foreheads pressed into the dirt, offering their fear and devotion in the only way they knew. None of them dared look up, too terrified of the consequences. Sukuna’s smirk grew, feeding off their terror, and you could feel the faint pulse of satisfaction that radiated from him. This festival—this display of submission—was nothing more than fuel for his inflated ego.

The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drums quickening, as the priests raised their hands in supplication. Before Sukuna, they laid baskets of rice, fruit, and incense.

You stood there, silent and still, your head slightly bowed in mock reverence.

But as the chanting reached a fevered pitch and the drumbeats pounded in your ears, you felt a shift in the air. The festival was only just beginning, and for some reason, your gut was screaming at you, warning you to not lower your guard.

Then, a figure emerged from the crowd. It was a half-naked woman—her kimono slipping from her shoulders and wide open. Her wild eyes locked onto Sukuna the moment she saw him, and something changed in her expression—a manic grin spread across her face, unrestrained and desperate.

“Yorozu-sama, wait!!” you heard a young voice plead.

But as you turned your face to comprehend just what in the heavens was going on, a venomous voice whispered in your ear, "Out of the way, bitch."

“From now on, I will be the one to stand by his side!” Yorozu’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful.

And then it happened—a swift, brutal kick struck you in the side, sending you flying off the wooden altar. You gasped as the air was forced from your lungs, landing hard on the floor below. The gravel dug into your body as the world around you spun and blurred.

You winced, barely able to lift your head, blinking a few times as your vision recovered.

The sight of Sukuna made your stomach twist. He hadn’t moved, but his expression had changed—the casual indifference wiped away, replaced by a deep, disgusted frown. His eyes burned with fury, a heat that seethed and promised destruction.

Uraume stepped forward quickly. “How dare you,” they snarled, standing between Yorozu and their master. Their voice was cold and sharp, the tension palpable. They wouldn’t allow such disrespect to stand.

Yorozu, however, ignored Uraume entirely. She didn’t even look at them, her eyes only for Sukuna, her fixation unwavering. She was completely enamored, her entire focus on him and no one else. Uraume’s presence meant no threat to her.

You groaned and coughed, your chest heaving with each breath. The pain was sharp, but you could feel a servant’s hands on you, lifting you gently, trying to help you sit upright. You leaned into their support, struggling to regain control over your breathing.

The servant whispered in your ear, their hands delicate and soft as they tried to calm you. “Forgive my lady's actions, please, stay still. You’re hurt.”

Yet your focus—no, all eyes—were on the woman standing in front of Sukuna, her half-naked form still and eerily focused. Yorozu, crazed and delirious with adoration, stood as if she had discovered something divine.

"Sukuna…!" the mad woman praised, her voice shaking with reverence. "You are magnificent! Seeing you in the flesh—" Yorozu took a step closer, eyes bright with infatuation. Her words of praise drowned in the background noise of hushed whispers as you felt the gentle hands from before pat your shoulders.

You turned to the servant holding you, and your eyes widened in fear. It was a boy, surely no more than ten. Your eyes jumped from the child to Yorozu and then to Sukuna. Back and forth, you repeated this pattern.

“You look… lonely. I can feel it. Allow me to be the one to cure your loneliness! Let us turn this world into a cursed chaos—

Amidst her blabbering, the realization befell you, and as the boy tried to lift you up, your hands twisted the fabric of his yukata.

"Run. Flee at once!"

"Miss, you need to calm down! I need to take you to the healers—"

-a world fit for the King of Curses! A world where—”

“Shut up.”

Sukuna’s deep voice cut through Yorozu's words with finality, cold and disdain. Before she could react, Sukuna moved.

With barely a flick of his wrist, he unleashed his cursed technique, faster than a heartbeat. An invisible slash of cursed energy sliced through the air, clean and precise. Yorozu’s words choked into a sharp gasp, her eyes still lovesick and lidded as her body crumpled to the ground, lifeless in an instant.

The priests and villagers cowered, their terrified murmurs drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of Sukuna’s presence. Blood splattered the gravel floor beneath her, pooling around her as if her life had never mattered. Silence hung heavy once more.

Your breath hitched as you tried to stand up and move the shocked child away. The pain in your chest flared up again, making you struggle against your coughs. But before you could get away with the child in hand, a shadow loomed over both of you.

In one swift motion, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, strong hands wrapping around you, pulling you up effortlessly. Your body was pressed against Sukuna’s massive form, his cursed energy suffocating as it crackled in the air.

You heard a thud behind you and turned your head sharply to assess the child's well-being.

Yet two of his arms held you firmly, immobilizing you. One hand gripped your waist, the other snatched your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His crimson eyes inspecting every detail of your face. “Are you hurt?” he asked calmly.

Your heart raced, panic flaring as the blood from Yorozu pooled around the gravel. “The boy—please, he’s just—”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened, “Pay attention to me,” he said, his voice a dangerous command “Answer me—are you hurt?”

The words barely escaped your lips. “I—I’m fine, my Lord,” you stammered, feeling utterly vulnerable within his caging arms.

Satisfied for the moment, Sukuna turned his attention back to the villagers, who now knelt in terror, prayers spilling from their lips, frantic and desperate. His voice dripped with dark amusement, the very embodiment of menace. “Quite the rude hosts, don’t you think?” he remarked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “They seem to have forgotten their place.”

As he raised his spear, glimmering ominously in the dim light, the air turned thick with tension. You could feel it before it happened—a wave of pure, unfiltered chaos. Carnage ensued.

Screams erupted as Sukuna cut through flesh and bone, a whirlwind of death and destruction. The villagers, once fervent in their prayers, now fled in terror, but there was nowhere to hide from the King of Curses. They fell around you, bodies littering the ground like discarded offerings.

Pinned in his grip, your eyes were shut but you were forced to withstand the sounds of the massacre. Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with a primal excitement, the thrill of slaughter igniting a fire within him that was terrifying. Each swipe of his weapon, each agonized scream, only served to fuel his insatiable bloodlust.

“Such chaos… it’s intoxicating,” he mused, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction that sent chills down your spine.

As the last echoes of terror faded into silence, Sukuna’s gaze turned back to you, his grip still firm around your waist. His eyes darkened, holding a predatory intensity that made your heart race.

With a twisted smirk curling his lips, he leaned closer, the scent of blood and incense clinging to him. “Consider this a reminder,” he murmured, voice low and chilling, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin. “You belong by my side, and nowhere else.”

"Uraume", he called out and the cursed-ice user made no haste to come close and kneel, "Let's go."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama"

And so, as he carried you away and Uraume left in tow, your eyes desperately secanned for any hint of survivors, but you only found a torn piece of that poor, innocent boy's yukata on the pools of blood.

[thefallennightmare]

Tina I have a REALLY dirty thought that won't leave my head. So enjoy:

Matt &/or Noah, having you pinned to the bed, as he achingly slowly takes his time, petting and rubbing your overstimulated, over sensitive, dripping wet pussy. Just teasing your clit over and over again, until you're crying from the pleasure, and audible to speak. You can only make soft little whimpering sounds.

And him saying "sshh. I know babygirl. I know." In such a soft, gentle, sweet way, As he peppers your jaw and neck and cheeks with soft, gentle kisses. And he whispers "just gimme another one, then I promise we're all done babygirl. Gimme another one. You can do it. For me." In such a caring, encouraging, sappy way.

All because while he was away at studio, you'd had such a bad, awful, rough day whether it was from answering work emails or just the amount of chores was overwhelming. Or an ex called you one too many times.

And you've never been a brat before. Never. You've been so so so good, this whole relationship. And now you're one, tiny little someone breathes at you wrong, away from absolutely exploding.

So you call Matt &/or Noah trying SO hard to be so polite and not come off as demanding. But per usual, he can ALWAYS tell when you're having an off day.

So he comes home and now you're here, pinned under him, as he praises you, telling you "what a good girl you are for me." And "such a good girl for not bein a brat" and "good girl, asking so nicely for my help."

As he trails warm kisses down your shoulders, and as you finally cum for the umpteenth time, shaking from how intense it is. He let's you hold him tight and snuggle into him as you come down.

and he lays beside you, holding you protectively and gently rubbing your back, and combing his fingers through your hair, til you're able to speak again.

He runs you a hot bath afterward, and he takes such good care of you. Cause he's the aftercare king of course.

IT'S NOT EVEN THE AFTERNOON YET! But I need to add just a smidge more to this if ya don't mind. A little Feral Friday if ya will.

Matt's sweet words are easing away the stress of the day as his fingers work intricate circles on your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. Your body is ready to collapse, give in to your final orgasm, and he kisses you slowly. He wants to take his time with your lips, savoring how they always taste like your favorite lip balm and it drove him mad.

Your hands worked through his hair, loving how soft it felt between your fingers. He would never admit it, but secretly held those moments close to his heart when you would braid it.

"You've got one more for me, baby," he cooed in your ear.

You lazily shook your head. "I can't."

Matt smiled devilishly and stopped drumming his fingers went a warm mouth closed over your clit, sucking up your already dripping arousal.

"Yes you can, angel," Noah's breath fanned over your clit after he pulled away. "You know you can. For us."

[whalesforhands]

the gojo-geto household’s playtime!

“Would you like another cup of tea, Mr. King?”Nanako’s voice is pitched far too high, an attempt to act a flair of elegance to her words as crumbs of the cookies Tsumiki had baked linger by her lips.

“Oh, with pleasure, Princess Of Green Bunnies.” You watch with amusement as Suguru tips his cup down towards the girl, trying his best to move his admittedly larger frame around without knocking anything over. Your hands gently wiping Nanako’s face when she leans in closer towards you momentarily.

“Mama—“ She coughs, sputtering in her next words. “Mrs. Queen! I am perfectly fine!” She’s whining up at you as you only silently pat her head.

“Can we eat now?” Megumi— No, Prince of The Animal Kingdom, impatiently drums his fingers against the plastic table, staring down at the potato chips and corn snacks before him. Tsumiki tuts, lightly smacking her little brother’s hand. “That’s rude, Prince! We have to wait for the Princess of Stitches to give us the signal.”

Mimiko nods. “Thank you, Princess of Strawberries…” A shy tilt of her head towards her plushie before she clanks her plastic spoon against the plastic teacup.

“Ah! Mimi has an announcement!”

“I wanna eat…”

“Gumi, be patient.” A ruffle of his hair from the long-haired man to sate him.

“I want to thank you all for coming…”

There’s a trudge, before from within the large pile of pillows and blankets, emerged the domineering figure of he who cannot be exorcised, he who rises from the dead, he who kidnaps children and swallows them whole!

The Banished Demon King Who Rules Over the Banished Bad Guys!

(Also known as simply, in Megumi’s complaints of the too long title, The Demon King.)

Gojo Satoru’s boisterous laugh is heard as he uses his tall frame to tower over the tea party, the gasps of shock and horror music to his ears. “My, my! A wonderful tea party!” With a rude step forward, he plants his foot upon the play table, albeit with a bit of care as to not rattle it too much, ego and confidence radiating off of him.

“But it seems my invite got lost via the carrier pigeon!” He places a melodramatic hand to his forehead. “You tiny lot wouldn’t be so cruel to not invite me, would ya?” The glitter upon his paper crown glints underneath the lights as his eyes search the puffed up faces of his daughters and uninterested one of his son.

“You were never invited, cruel monster!” Several plastic utensils are thrown at him as he deflects them with his ‘evil magic’. (He turned Infinity on momentarily before turning it off again.)

You only watch with a pleasant smile next to Suguru, just happy to be a part of this whilst lightly clapping along. Geto’s stare moves to watch you, lips quirking up at the sight of you. He chuckles when he spots a bored Megumi at your other side, sneaking bites of the snacks now that the girls were distracted.

(Megumi wanted to play his console, but everyone voted for this first, so he did too, to the twins and Tsumiki’s delight.)

Satoru’s blanket that acted as his all-menacing cape is unwrapped from around him as three gazes of unwavering determination face him. “I see…” A glint from those sunglasses hiding the ever mischievous pair of blue. “Then I suppose a kidnapping is in order to placate my evil desires! WAHAHAH!”

You don’t even have time to react before you’re scooped up into a pair of arms, the half-eaten biscuit still in your hand as you’re thrown over your husband’s shoulder, his long legs carrying you away and out the door into the living room, cackling all the way as you begin to put on airs.

(This was not in the script.)

“Oh no~!” You let out a gasp for dramatic effect as you’re carried further and further away. “I’m being kidnapped by the evil king! Save me!” The smile on your face completely going against your words, finding it hard to get into character.

“Our Queen has been kidnapped by the evil curse! Oh no!” Nanako raises a foam sword as Tsumiki fixes the ribbons in Geto’s hair. “Quick, we must have an emergency meeting plan to save her!”

——

Gojo settles you down gently on the nearby couch, humming lightly as he sneaks a kiss from your lonely-looking lips. “Gotta play it up a bit, honey. You don’t mind, right?” His once discarded blanket is now upon your shoulders, lightly and messily knotting it to act as ‘binds’. “And so you won’t get cold.”

“How sweet of a Demon King.” You lean forwards to peck his forehead, swooning at him as starry blue eyes meet yours, nuzzling his face against you with a grin on his face.

“Special treatment for my loveliest Queen, of course—“

“Halt right there, evil doer!” Tsumiki has taken charge of the party. “You haven’t won yet, since you forgot our secret weapon!”

“Papa!” Nanako and Mimiko push forward a very compliant Suguru, his hands raised as the sparkly ribbons and bows in his hair attract the demon king’s attention.

“Hello~” Geto only simply waves with a smile on his face.

“Evilllllll BLAST!” His fingers glow red before immediately flickering out, Geto taking the ‘hit’, clutching his heart as he makes a show of stumbling around, before dropping to the ground conveniently right next to you.

“He defeated the King! He’s too strong!” Nanako is gasping in defeat for her siblings, falling to her knees as she acts troubled.

“This curse has more plans!! I eat children who don’t give their daddies enough love today!!!” Gojo gives a sneaky pat to the prone Geto on the ground next to you before he turns to face his defeat.

“Order of Sorcerers! Plan B!”

“RAHHhh- Ow! Hey!” He’s getting pelted by an onslaught of toy bullets as an arm is held up in front of him to defend himself, stray bullets bounce against his face and off of his sunglasses, falling to his knees as he’s sniped from a distance.

Megumi.

Mimiko rings the bell in signal as Tsumiki hands out the next orders. “Megumi has temporarily stunned the monster!” A thrust of her sword upwards towards the ceiling. “All troops! CHARGGEEE!”

“Since when did princes use guns?!” Satoru is adamantly taken aback, holding both hands in the air in surrender as the twins held his legs down in place, Megumi pointing the toy gun menacingly at him as Tsumiki held a pillow up over her head in victory.

“Admit defeat and set our Queen free, monster!”

And they descended upon the poor man like ants to a fallen ice cream scoop, running at him as they poked him with their foam swords, bludgeoned his face with pillows, as he squealed, simply letting himself get overwhelmed and laying in defeat as he continues to get pummeled.

They’re distracted. This is your chance.

“Are you tired?” Your voice is gentle as your head hovers above his, looking down into his lovely copper-amethyst gaze as black ribbons of his hair splay out against the carpeted floor.

He really does look like something out of a fairytale. You’re surprised he wasn’t asked to play a princess.

“My back is a little sore...” Well, hunching over a tiny plastic chair all day isn’t very healthy. “But I’m mostly fine, dear.” He makes it a point to keep his already soothing voice low, tinged with gentle reassurance and eyes blinking slowly up at you.

(He still has the very important role of keeping the roleplay alive, after all.)

“And how is my gorgeous Queen doing?” The act is temporarily dropped when a hand reaches up to cup your cheek, grazing over the skin as his stare holds your own, the background noises fading into nothing as he takes this moment entirely for himself.

“Kiss me?” A plead that you can’t deny.

You relent, a lean downwards that allows you to press a kiss to the man’s forehead, easing his stress and begetting the softness of his eyes, before pulling away.

“Mm. Good… But I prefer somewhere else…”

A loud crash.

“The monster has fallen!” Nanako arises victorious, socked feet standing upon Satoru’s prone body, heels digging into his chest whilst her twin sat upon his stomach as he feigns death on the ground, Tsumiki patting the defeated man’s arm and Megumi poking his face with a stray bullet as the grown man fights to keep the ‘dead’ act as a smile is a laugh away from twitching onto his face.

masterlist

Notes:

“Daddy! You can’t put the word ‘evil’ in front of everything and call it a day!” Mimiko has a small pout on her face as she looks up at the light-haired man, star-shapes carrots on her fork as she regards the figure with a narrowed stare.

You and Suguru both had to console the defeated demon king quite a bit, despite the fact that he had voluntarily taken up this role.

Gojo regrets buying those toy guns. They actually hurt quite a bit.

nvy’s aftertalk:

sorry guys i was playing minecraft and studying lol

[sassenach77yle]

What are ye laughing at, a nighean?” Her father loomed out of the night, smelling of horses. “Everything,” she said, scooching over to make room for him to sit beside her. It was true. Everything seemed suddenly bright, the candlelight from the windows of the Big House, the fireflies in the grass, the glow of Roger’s face when he told her his desire. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers; it fizzed in her blood.

Jamie reached up and fielded a passing firefly, holding it for a moment cupped in the dark hollow of his hand, where it flashed on and off, the cool light seeping through his fingers. Far off, she heard a brief snatch of her mother’s voice, coming through an open window;

Claire was singing “Clementine.” Now the boys—and Roger—were howling at the moon, though it was no more than a pale sickle on the horizon. She felt her father’s body shake with silent laughter, too.

“It reminds me of Disneyland,” she said on impulse.

“Oh, aye? Where’s that?” “It’s an amusement park—for children,” she added, knowing that while there were such things as amusement parks in places like London and Paris, these were purely adult places. No one ever thought of entertaining children now, beyond their own games and the occasional toy. “Daddy and Mama took me there every summer,” she said, slipping back without effort to the hot, bright days and warm California nights.

“The trees all had little sparkling lights in them—the fireflies reminded me.” Jamie spread his palm; the firefly, suddenly free, pulsed to itself once or twice, then spread its wings with a tiny whir and lifted into the air, floating up and away.

“Dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daugh-ter, Clementine . . .”

“What was it like, then?” he asked curiously. “Oh . . . it was wonderful.” She smiled to herself, seeing the brilliant lights of Main Street, the music and mirrors and beautiful, beribboned horses of King Arthur’s Carrousel. “There were . . . rides, we called them. A boat, where you could float through the jungle on a river, and see crocodiles and hippopotamuses and headhunters . . .” “Headhunters?” he said, intrigued. “Not real ones,” she assured him. “It’s all make-believe—but it’s . . . well, it’s a world to itself. When you’re there, the real world sort of disappears; nothing bad can happen there.

They call it ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’—and for a little while, it really seems that way.”

“Light she was, and like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine, Herring boxes without topses, sandals were for Clementine.”“And you’d hear music everywhere, all the time,” she said, smiling. “Bands—groups of musicians playing instruments, horns and drums and things—would march up and down the streets, and play in pavilions. . . .” “Aye, that happens in amusement parks. Or it did, the once I was in one.” She could hear a smile in his voice, as well. “Mm-hm. And there are cartoon characters—I told you about cartoons—walking around. You can go up and shake hands with Mickey Mouse, or—” “With what?” “Mickey Mouse.” She laughed. “A big mouse, life-size—human-size, I mean. He wears gloves.” “A giant rat?” he said, sounding slightly stunned. “And they take the weans to play with it?” “Not a rat, a mouse,” she corrected him. “And it’s really a person dressed up like a mouse.” “Oh, aye?” he said, not sounding terribly reassured. “Yes. And an enormous carrousel with painted horses, and a railroad train that goes through the Rainbow Caverns, where there are big jewels sticking out of the walls, and colored streams with red and blue water . . . and orange-juice bars. Oh, orange-juice bars!” She moaned softly in ecstatic remembrance of the cold, tart, overwhelming sweetness. “It was nice, then?” he said softly.

“Thou art lost and gone forever, Dreadful sor-ry . . . Clementine.”

“Yes,” she said, sighed, and was silent for a moment. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, and wrapped her hand around his arm, big and solid. “You know what?” she said, and he made a small interrogatory noise in reply.

It was nice—it was great—but what I really, really loved about it was that when we were there, it was just the three of us, and everything was perfect. Mama wasn’t worrying about her patients, Daddy wasn’t working on a paper—they weren’t ever silent or angry with each other. Both of them laughed—we all laughed, all the time . . . while we were there.” He made no reply, but tilted his head so it rested against hers. She sighed again, deeply.

“Jemmy won’t get to go to Disneyland—but he’ll have that. A family that laughs—and millions of little lights in the trees.”

A breath of snow and ashes

Season 7 episode 2 “The Happiest Place on Earth”

[riaaanna]

“I remember Roger getting angry because he was in such an unfamiliar situation,” said May. “He has been drumming for years, and he’s pretty good as a drummer, he can do a thing or two! Instead of playing in a room with his kit, which he knows inside out, suddenly he is in a tiny little room with a foreign drum kit, which was tiny and transparent as I remember.

“It was plastic, all covered in tape, literally covered in all this tape. They’d taken most of the skin off the bass drum and it’s got a cushion inside. He’s trying to play this thing and he hates it! You can feel it. Right? It was hard for you?”

“Yeah, there was no resonance or anything,” replied Taylor. “Not what you want.”

It wasn’t what any of the band wanted. But they were young. This was their debut. Roy Thomas Baker was in the control room and he was a hard task master. And all things considered, the band were just happy to be there, recording in the off-peak hours while the blue-chip stars recorded during the day.

“We were signed to the owners of the studio so that is why we got that [time] I remember there was Lou Reed and David [Bowie] producing Transformer,” said Taylor. “He’d just finished Hunky Dory and Ziggy. This was the place to be. The Beatles did All You Need Is Love there. It really was the place to be, Harry Nilsson, et cetera. So we thought it was great. We’re in Trident! But we were the ones on the downtime and we walked out when the cleaners came in.”

“We were excited to be in there at all,” added May. “I think you would have seen us very much immersed in it and we felt privileged to be there at all, and we were enjoying each other’s company, and we were enjoying working with each other and developing new ideas. We had written a lot before we went in. We had some songs that we had been rehearsing. But a lot of things took shape in the studio, like My Fairy King, which was an extraordinary piece of work.”

May describes Queen I as “the director’s cut” and it has been a long time coming. This has been something they have wanted to do for years.

“It’s exactly how we wanted it,” said May. “We waited 52 years to get to this point, to make it the way it should have been in the first place. We always hated the fact that Roger wasn’t playing his own kit. It didn’t sound like Rog."

[aquareegia]

[warnermeadowsgirl]

AGAINST ALL ODDS

A.Bahubali × fem!OC

The scent of jasmine and sandalwood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the rhythmic thrum of the drums. Manorama, a dancer whose movements were as fluid as the river Krishna, flowed across the temple courtyard, her anklets jingling like tiny bells. Her heart, however, was anything but light. Her eyes, usually bright with the joy of dance, were clouded with a storm of conflicting emotions.

She had met the Crown Prince of Mahishmati, Amarendra Baahubali, only a few days ago. He had been captivated by her dance, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that made her both flattered and uneasy. He was a handsome man, powerful and commanding, but also impossibly distant. He seemed to view her through a veil, her world of music and dance a mere spectacle for his amusement.

Manorama was a woman of the temple, accustomed to the simple life of devotion and art. She had never dreamt of a prince, especially not one as haughty as Amarendra Baahubali. Yet, she found herself drawn to his quiet charm, his gentle smile that seemed to melt the icy facade he presented to the world.

'Manorama,' he had called her, his voice a low rumble, 'Your dance is a testament to the grace of the gods.'

His words, uttered with an air of superiority, had stung. She knew he saw her as a mere entertainer, not a woman of her own right.

Their encounters became more frequent, stolen moments in the shadows of the temple. He would watch her dance, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. He would talk about his kingdom, his ambitions, his dreams. And Manorama would listen, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and fascination.

One moonlit night, under the shimmering canopy of stars, Amarendra Baahubali confessed his love.

'Mano,' he said, his voice husky with emotion, 'I cannot live without you. You are the song that fills my soul, the rhythm that beats in my heart.'

She couldn't believe her ears. The charming prince, the man who she thought was disdainful of her world, was begging for her love.

'But I am just a dancer,' she whispered, her voice trembling, 'A creature of the temple.'

'You are the light of my life,' he insisted, taking her hand, 'And I want to share my life with you.'

His words were a whirlwind, pulling her into a vortex of conflicting emotions. He was the prince, she was the dancer. Their worlds were as different as day and night, their paths destined to never cross.

Yet, the fire of love had ignited within her, burning away all reason. She yearned to be with him, to share her life with the man who had captured her heart.

But fear held her back. What would society say? How would the people of Mahishmati react to their union? She was a commoner, he was their future king. This was a love that defied all odds.

'I'm afraid,' she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

He held her close, his warmth a comfort against the chilling whispers of doubt. 'Fear not, Mano,' he said, his voice strong and reassuring, 'I will protect you. We will face this together.'

In the end, love triumphed over fear. They ran away, leaving behind their familiar worlds, their families, their lives. They found refuge in a hidden valley, a paradise where their love could bloom freely, untouched by the scorn of the world.

There, in the embrace of nature, they were married, their vows whispered under the watchful gaze of the stars. The ceremony was simple, a testament to their love, a rejection of the societal norms that had tried to bind them.

They built a life together, filled with love and laughter, a testament to the power of love to conquer all odds. And as the years went by, their story, whispered on the wind, became a legend, a reminder that love knows no boundaries, no caste, no creed. The story of the crown prince who chose love over duty, and the dancer who dared to dream of a life beyond her world, became an enduring symbol of hope, a testament to the power of love to transform even the most rigid of social structures.

@mahi-wayy @mayakimayahai @gloriouspurpose01 enjoy :)

Thanks to Google for the beautiful alternative words in the fic 😅

[magnoliasandarson]

hoax

Tim was doing his absolute damnedest to project calmness, but he was losing his mind. Two feet away, munching on some cheesy fries, was the Red Hood—the prodigal son, the dead golden boy, his childhood hero, his Robin. The insane man who once beat him half to death, now the guy who occasionally dropped by the cave with a frankly worrying number of bullet holes. 

He’d been patrolling for an hour or so when he noticed the lack of gunshots, screams, explosions, etc., and tracked Hood to the gargoyle Dick took him to once when he was feeling sentimental. It was strange finding him without his signature explosive bucket on, with a bag of Batburger in his lap.

Tim didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something. Jason apologized for his actions weeks ago and explained that the pit had taken no dead Robins and turned it into all Robins must die, but there was still a weight between them. A clear line that said do not cross; luckily enough, Tim lived to cross those lines, “Takin’ a day off from murder and mayhem?”

Jason twisted his head to look over, his scowl somehow threatening, even with a fry hanging out of his mouth. He finished chewing, looking menacing the whole time, “Fucks it to ya, bird boy?”

Tim plopped down on the ledge; if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve already. He stared out at Gotham, at the empty streets and windows glowing with warmth and light. For once, the city was quiet, “Just making conversation, Hood.”

“What made you think I wanted to talk?” Jason’s tone was harsh, but it was about a five on the Jason-rage-meter, and Tim didn’t get fidgety till a seven. 

Tim kicked his feet out, idly drumming his fingers on the cement ledge, “Maybe I wanted to talk.” And in a weird way, it was true. This was Jason freakin’ Todd; the boy wonder that made Batman laugh. He oddly wanted to know everything. 

Jason sighed like he was accosted by young, costumed teens all the time, and, to be fair, he was. Stephanie had taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours with waffles, and she had only been shot at twice, “Fine, traffic light. Whatcha wanna talk about.”

“Y’know, you wore the suit, too. ‘Least mine has pants.” Tim spoke, then immediately hunched away. Robin was a sore spot for Jason- Tim was stupid to bring it up. 

For some reason, Jason didn’t immediately pull a gun; he just cocked his head and laughed quietly. Tim straightened back up and tried to muster up a glare, but that just made Jason’s little laughs louder, “Ooh- baby bird’s got jokes,” he rolled his shoulders and offered a thing of fries from the bag, “want some fries, Tiny?”

Tim groaned; why did everyone make short jokes about him? He snatched the fries sharply in protest, “You were short too-”

“Yeah, then I took a dip in poison snot,” Jason cut him off, “Ya wanna do that too, short stack?”

Tim immediately jammed some fries in his mouth- he was incurably dumb. He’d managed to bring up Robin and the Lazarus Pit with Jason. He should hang up the cape, “You got any advice? As a former short king?” Honestly, he wished Jason would just shoot him now. There was something wrong with his brain on a fundamental level. He’d been hanging out with Bart and Kon way too much.

Jason tilted his head like he was buffering and inhaled deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm himself through sheer force of will, “Whatcha wanna know?”

Tim chewed his mouthful of potato slowly; he hadn’t thought this far ahead. What did he want to know from Jason? He could ask about crime-lording, but Jason would probably snitch to Dick, and then Bruce would lecture him for at least an hour. Oddly enough, there was only one safe topic he could ask about, and it would still likely result in him leaving with lead in his body that was not there before, “You got any, uhm, Robin-ly advice?” Lightning should strike him down.

Jason didn’t kill him, which was a plus; just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, which was objectively hilarious, but Tim would die if he laughed, so he just ate another fry, “Robin was a different kid,” he blew out smoke rings like the cool guys in movies, and if Tim wasn’t acutely afraid of lung cancer, he’d be tempted to try, “Dickwing use’ta say, “Robin is magic, you have to be brave for the magic to work.” I used to believe that shit.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Another cool ring of cigarette smoke floated out through the sky, “I stopped believin’ when I dug my way outta my grave.”

Noted. Tim cleared his throat; this was not a conversation he was equipped for, “Oh.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah- oh,” he took another deep drag of his cigarette, making Tim’s chest twinge, “The thing is- Robin will make you believe you can be- make you think you can be a better person.”

“Then why aren’t you better?” The words left his mouth without Tim’s consent, and his whole body tensed to jump, his fingers finding his grapple gun at his waist. 

Jason gave a wry smile and stubbed his spent cigarette on the gargoyle to his right, “Because Robin isn’t magic.”

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 33

(Chapter 32; Chapter 34)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

The Chosen One

”No.” he sneers his lips at you, before he turns on his heels and starts walking back to the shrine.

“What do you mean “no��?” you imitate his voice, as you tap after him. “They’re celebrating you.”

He doesn’t respond, just waving his hand at you in a dismissing way. You gather some speed and grab his bottom left hand. He stops and throws you a pissed glance.

“Maybe they have food?” you ask carefully. He doesn’t answer. “Seasoned… meat?” you try to be as cute as possible, giving him doe eyes. “Please?”

The corners of his lips twitch in a suppressed grin, before he rolls his eyes at you and wordlessly walks back into your direction.

Yes!

Happiness spreads in your chest, as he walks past you. You don’t let go of his hand, feeling the soft skin of his palm against your tiny fingers, before you notice his nails. Your eyes widen in horror, letting go of them as if they’re poisonous, as you remember the trails your very own nails left on his exposed back. Blood pumps into your ears and cheeks.

“What about your back? They’re gonna-“

“We’re going!” he interrupts your nervous blabbering in a serious tone, while he keeps walking.

Fuck!

You nervously bite the insides of your cheeks, thinking about the consequences of your actions.

Everyone’s gonna see it.

You slam your hand against your forehead, while following your King through the forest a few steps behind him.

The music turns louder and louder, the more you approach the village. Different scents crawl into your nose, smoke, meat, fish, sweets. The sky turns yellow from the torches and lights that are illuminating the scene. Trees turn into silhouettes, as you finally see a big festival happening between them. After a few more steps, you leave the forest and… you’re there.

Standing to the right of Sukuna, your eyes grow wide, looking everywhere. There’s food, musicians, dancers, lanterns. People are celebrating, drinking and eating.

“Oh dear.” you snort as you spot some kind of statue standing on an altar, having four arms and an angry grin. It looks like a goblin.

“Yea.” he sneers, visibly not pleased about the lack of resemblance and obviously not seeing this kind of homage to him for the first time.

“THE KING! THE KING HIMSELF!” suddenly a voice from a man echoes through the scene. You notice Sukuna rolling his eyes, before he turns to where the voice comes from.

The man runs to the both of you. It’s the same man who begged for help in the audience. You lower your gaze, as soon as you recognise him.

“PLEASE! Your majesty…” he says, before you see him nodding at you in the corner of your eye “…and company. Please be our guests! Drink and eat and celebrate as much as you like!”

“Get lost.” Sukuna says and the man looses the colour on his face, chuckles insecurely, bows down and steps away again, making your King huff. He leans down to your ear.

“Good girl.” he mumbles, before he starts to walk into the crowd. Your cunt responds with a tingle to his words, while your cheeks proudly paint themself in a dark shade of red, before you start to follow him.

The music is very rhythmic, heroic drums reach your ears and you love it. It suits him.

You make your way through the people, aiming for a booth where meat is prepared. As you walk, you notice a lot of the people admiring Sukuna. Women, too. Some start to whisper and giggle to each other whenever they see his back.

Hhhhhhggg

Ears as red as fire, you lower your head even more and want to sink into the ground. Sukuna notices your shame.

“See? They like my little souvenir.” he smirks.

“It doesn’t help that you’re twice as tall as everyone else here. Everyone can see what I’ve done to you.” you complain. He chuckles, obviously enjoying your shame more than you wish.

“So dramatic.” he coos.

“How do you feel being ripped into shreds by a mere mortal like me?” your dramatic tone increases. “Those flesh wounds must hurt.”

“It’s fine.” he says, before stopping you in your tracks and leaning down and whispering at your face. “A keepsake, reminding me of how good I fucked you.”

Why did I ask him to come here?

Your heart flutters heavily at his words. Wetness pooling once again between your thighs. He cocks his eyebrow and takes a sniff, before a shit eating grin forms on his mouth.

“I see, you agree with me.”

Asshole.

“Master Sukuna!” a familiar voice appears behind you. Sukuna doesn’t react, keeps grinning into your embarrassed eyes for a second, before he raises his head again.

“Uraume.” he says, you and him nodding to them, as they lower their head.

“I didn’t expect you here, y/n.” they say, before they turn to Sukuna. “I almost had the impression you wouldn’t attend the festivities this time, Master Sukuna.”

“I had some urgent business to attend first.” he says casually, as if that urgent business didn’t mean that he fucked your brain to mush. Sukuna turns around and continues his way to the meat booth. You don’t dare to look at Uraume, yet feel them looking at you, as you bite your lips.

They start to walk past you and follow Sukuna and you tipple after them.

You arrive at the booth and the cook offers you three small plates of delicious smelling meat along with three small bowls of fresh rice. Although you’re starving, you don’t want to be rude and wait until Sukuna takes one of the plate along with the chopsticks.

I’ve never seen him eat with chopsticks before.

He looks at you and then to the plates, wordlessly ordering you to take one of them, before he takes a bite. You take it, bowing to the cook in gratitude, before you try the food. A wholesome feeling shoots through you, as you taste the incredible well seasoned pork on your tongue. Uraume denies the food.

“You instructed the cook well.” Sukuna says after swallowing the last slice of his plate, before he takes Uraumes portion.

“Thank you, Master Sukuna. Enjoy your meal. I will now excuse myself and see you later.” they bow their head “Y/n.” Then they vanish back into the crowd.

“I had the impression you never ate prepared meat before I cooked it for you in the woods. Why do you keep eating it raw?” you question him. He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I never said I didn’t.” he smirks with a voice that melts in your ears. “Uraume cooks it best, but they have other business to do.” he keeps munching. “Those other bitches can’t cook, so I rather take it raw.”

You hum at his answer… and feel so happy about his insult.

Bitches.

“Mhmm.” you pick up your second slice about to eat it. “… how do you refer to me when I’m not around?” you tease him. His smirk grows wider, the wrinkles on his eyes increasing, as he keeps chewing, focused on his now empty second plate.

God.

He looks so good.

Your King doesn’t answer, instead he steals the last slice of meat on your plate with his chopsticks and shoves it in his mouth.

“Oy!” you exclaim. You don’t like sharing food when you’re hungry.

Asshole.

“Don’t “oy” me, Princess.” he grins at you, intimidating in a way, before he casually leaves the booth you were standing at. You hastily shove some rice into your mouth, thank the cook again, before you follow him through the crowd.

People are everywhere, you have to tipple and excuse your way through the crowd, in order to catch up to him. If he wasn’t so tall, you would’ve lost sight to him by now.

“My King!” you call him, hoping he would hear and wait for you.

Boom!

Another firework flies up into the air behind you. Your attention is caught and your eyes wander up into the sky to see it explode into a million pieces.

“Pretty!” you breathe, while stumbling further into Sukunas direction, not taking your eyes off the vanishing fireworks.

Step.

You bump into him. Face against the skin of his left side.

Ouch.

Apparently he indeed stopped and turned around to wait for you. A dull pain drives through your nose, before you look up to him. He sneers at you, before he turns back around and continues his way.

The scene around you is very loud, not only the chatter and laughter of people, but also the music. You notice the dancers, groups of men and women, each of them holding a sensu in their hand, moving it so elegantly, throwing it into the air and catching it back into their hands, their steps and moves so elegantly but fierce at the same time. On the opposite side of the dancers, you notice another podium. This one offers enough space for a handful of people to stand on it, pillars rise up from the corners, decorated with leaf carrying branches.

“Princess.” his voice interrupts your analysis of the place. You turn to him, only to see him offering you a small ceramic cup.

Sake!

“Oh.” your eyes grow big in curiosity and anxiety at the same time, as you carefully take it with both hands.

It’s warm.

Enjoying the warm feeling on your hands, you think about having never tried it before. You look up to him, seeing him taking a sip already, keeping his bottom pair of eyes fixated on you. Looking back to your own cup, you chew on your lips, while you remember the last time being drunk. His hand reaches your sight, before his index finger delicately pushes against the bottom of your cup. Your hands obey and rise the cup for your mouth.

Despite watching Sukuna before, you swallow it all at once and the warm alcohol burns down your throat, making you cough and your eyes wet. Sukuna watches and rises his eyebrow at you.

“What?” you feel your cheeks already heating up.

“Thirsty.” he sneers.

“How else am I supposed to drink it? The cup’s so tiiiny!” you babble, ignoring what he just said. “It’s all just. Gone.” you emphasise your words, with your hands and eyes.

Sukuna watches your already drunk behaviour with half lidded eyes, as a hungry smirk creeps on his face, before he takes another sip. Your heart squeezes, before the alcohol crawls into your legs. Having not eaten much today, it’s no wonder it spreads in your body quickly.

You place the empty cup on the table Sukuna got it from and ask for another. Your King stands right next to you, watching the crowd and dancers, while you get your next cup. After another sip, you start to feel dizzy.

“I have to sit down somewhere.” you sigh to yourself and start walking to a nearby area, a bit hidden next to the booths where you spotted a bench, leaving Sukuna standing there, not even waiting for his reaction.

You sit down and sigh, as you keep watching the dancers, the cooks in the booths and the flickering in the lanterns. It’s new for you to experience these kinds of things as a normal visitor.

The festivities in your village were way smaller and you never could enjoy what was happening. Either you were not even allowed to go or you had to work behind the scenes.

You kick your feet, while you take another sip. A feeling of contentment spreads in your gut, a feeling of joy and peace. Closing your eyes, you raise your head, as you keep listening to the sounds, as you keep smelling the scents. Your cheeks are tingling, as well as your legs, almost feeling like you’re floating on a boat.

Suddenly you feel someone sit down right next to you. Opening your eyes, you look to your right, ready to lean your head against Sukuna, when you notice: it isn’t Sukuna. You flinch, the picture in front of you is swimming. A young man, which you have not expected sitting there. He smiles at you and your mushy brain tells you to smile back.

“Do you enjoy the festivities?” he seems to be nice and you’re overwhelmed. You nod, before you retrieve your smile and squint at him, not sure what you should say or if you should talk to him at all anyway. He chuckles at your behaviour, his eyes jumping down to your cup of sake and back to your eyes.

“Would you mind to have another dri-“

“You have two seconds.” Sukuna’s threatening voice interrupts him.

The poor man can’t even react in time, before Sukuna just shoves him off that bench and sits down right next to you. Your King throws him a threatening glance, as the man stumbles to the ground and quickly hurries away.

It all happens too fast for your drunk brain, that you just accept what just happened. Sukuna leans forward, supporting himself on his elbows on his thighs, before you softly poke your right index finger into his side. He doesn’t react and you look down to your cup.

“I apologise for leaving you at the booth.” you sigh, fiddling with the ceramic. He throws you a glance over his shoulder, before he turns back forward.

“It’s fine.” he grumbles.

You sigh another time, your brain running circles, before you let your head lean against his side. He stays silent and you know he very much wasn’t pleased seeing your interaction with this man.

“Don’t be mad at me.” you pout, trying to soothe your angry King.

Suddenly a woman steps in front of Sukuna, making you quickly retrieve your head from his side, sitting back straight. As soon as you see the womans face, you blink.

She’s beautiful.

“Master Sukuna” her voice as smooth as butter. “I would like to thank you for your duty as our King.” She kneels down before him, lowers her head and offers him a folded sensu.

You watch how Sukuna watches her and jealousy crawls up your gut. He nods and accepts her gift with a smirk and takes the sensu.

Why did I never make him a gift?

You get angry at yourself.

She gets up again, bows and before she leaves, she leans in and whispers something in his ear, making his smirk grow.

You chug your remaining sake in one angry go.

After she’s gone, Sukuna fiddles with the sensu, folding it open, revealing a beautiful red and blue pattern, feeling the material, before he closes it again.

Enough.

You turn away.

“How do you like it?” he mumbles, referring to the hand fan.

“It’s fine.” you grumble. “I hope it will provide you the coooldest breeze.”

You hear him huff softly behind your back, before the sensu reaches your eyesight. Looking at it and back to Sukuna, he motions it to you.

“Take it.” he says, making you frown.

“It’s yours.” you sneer, your vision still blurry.

“Now it’s a gift for you.” his voice suddenly smooth in contrast to his grumpy attitude from before. You blink and take the sensu, your fingers brushing against his in the process, before you turn your back to him again.

“Don’t you wanna know what she told me?” he teases you.

“Did she ask you to come visit her in her chambers?” the alcohol keeps burning on your cheeks, your vision keeps swimming.

He grabs you by your chin and harshly turns your face around to him. After a second of just looking at you, he whispers.

“She told me how pretty the woman is who is sitting right next to me.” his eyes dancing between your eyes and lips, as the hungry smirk crawls back into his face. “And she’s right... Do you have any idea how pretty you look with those eyes of yours?”

Your face flushes red, drunk ears listening to his words, being not the words that you expected to hear.

“The way I have to contain myself to not drag you up that podium and fuck you for everyone to see. For everyone and that stupid little bastard from earlier to see, that you’re mine and only mine. How dares he speaking to you just like that?”

Pressing your thighs together at his words, you sigh into his hold, almost melting into his hold, as another batch of fireworks starts shooting.

“Do it.” your shy cheeks are burning and your cunt is tingling, his possessive behaviour so hot to you. His lip twitches at your words.

“Don’t tempt me.” he hisses.

Boom!

“What about a kiss then?” you tease, making him cock his eyebrow at you. Your voice turns seductive. “…I bet you’re not even brave enough to kiss me in the middle of the crowd.”

His lip twitches once again and you just stare at him for a second, before you stand up, your jaw leaving his grip. You walk back into the celebrating crowd, swaying your hips with every step. It doesn’t take long, before you feel his huge presence go after you. Step by step, you walk between the people, while he’s walking a few meters behind you, like a predator sneaking up behind its prey.

Step by step.

Boom!

The alcohol in your blood makes situation this so exciting, the wetness between your thighs so dripping.

Suddenly someone bumps into you. You stumble to your right, making you loose your sensu.

Quickly you kneel down, but Sukuna grabs it first. Standing back up, you see the excitement in his eyes, his pupils blown so wide, eager to prove you otherwise, as he kneels right in front of you. With one swing of his hand, he folds the fan open and places it next to your cheek, covering one side of your face. Sukuna gently holds your chin with his upper left hand and leans in.

Boom!

Everyone around you looks up to the biggest explosion of this evening. A beautiful shrine like pattern paints the sky, as his lips gently find yours. Heart skips a beat, as you reach for his hand that’s holding the sensu. Hiding below the lights and behind the fan, his lips glide so smoothly against yours. Your breath is knocked out of you, as his tongue licks against yours, before he breaks the kiss again.

“You lost.” he breathes with a grin against your lips and you don’t care. A smile spreads on your face, as he leans back and you drown in his eyes, the reflections of the fading lights in the sky sparkling in them.

A loving feeling overwhelms you and you jump forward, letting your arms fall around his neck. You almost lose balance, before you feel him putting his hand against the small of your back.

“Do you have any idea how pretty you look with those eyes of yours, my love?” you sigh into his ear, squeezing him tight. He purrs and you feel his nails dig into your back, before you realise what you just said, as suddenly the drums grow loud.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

You flinch, quickly retracting your arms from his neck.

In a steady pace, they keep drumming, while Sukuna loosens his grip on you and rises back to his feet. People are already looking at the both of you and you quickly unfold the sensu and hide your face behind it. Heat rises to your face, still embarrassed about what you just called him, before a loud voice echoes through your ears.

“King Ryomen Sukuna! Please be our guest and come up here! Enjoy the ceremony!”

Bong. Bong. Bong.

His eyes pierce into your for one more second, before he turns around and makes his way to the podium. Quickly fanning yourself some air, you step aside, as people gather behind you with goods in their hands.

You watch him climbing up the few stairs that lead up to the wooden podium and sitting down on it’s surface. Uraume walks up and comes to a halt right next to him. A servant walks by and throws a black cape over his shoulders.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Silence.

The drums stopped, only the crackle of the torches reach your ear.

“Your Majesty! Please accept our gifts of goodwill and gratitude. You blessed us with peace and fortune, we will be forever in your debt.” the man says, while people build a queue and start to carry their goods to the podium. Crops, fruits, dried meat, jewellery, fabrics. You watch them, one by one take a step forward and bow to him, laying their gifts at the bottom of the stairs. Uraume is waiting patiently with a lowered gaze. People around you watch the ceremony in a reverent manner, like he’s a god. You seek his gaze, his face rather stoic, even a bit intimidating and bothered, before you notice that the eyes of his mask are looking into your direction.

To you.

As soon as you realise, you smile and bow your head to your King as well. After a moment you raise your head back up, only to see him break eye contact with you and focus on the people in front of him. One after another lay their precious possessions at the feet of your King. After roughly half an hour, you notice a group of five young women forming at the end of the queue. They are all pretty looking and nervousness spreads in your gut, as you remember the words the bitch told you.

A prize.

They follow the queue, until the last person carefully laid down their gift to the bottom of the stairs.

“Now that we offered you our gratitude, please honour us and choose a woman! A woman suitable for a King.” the man comments, while the women gather up in front of the podium.

No! No No No No No!

She’s not right. She’s not right.

You look to Sukuna, his eyes fixated on them and only them. All of the women have their head lowered, standing so religious in front of him. Your breath grows nervous. Everyone looks at your King in suspense, before Sukuna raises his head, staring at each of them. After a moment on contemplation, he opens his mouth a little and licks his teeth, a smirk crawling onto his lips. He looks hungry.

No! Not again!

Being a prize is better than being garbage.

Your heart is beating in your throat, as you watch the fingers of his hand that’s been resting on his left knee fiddle with each other and you notice his bottom right eye looking at you for a second. After a moment, he raises his index finger to point at the one in the middle.

The people applaud and cheer.

“A wonderful choice. May she serve you for her lifetime. Who knows, maybe even as a Queen?” the man chuckles, while the woman steps forward onto the podium.

Nausea comes over you and you feel like you need to throw up.

“Excuse me.” you say to the people around you, while you quickly leave the event, heart beating out of your chest.

The bitch can’t be right…

You hurry in between the houses standing close to the forest, away from the people and spew on the ground. Coughing and shaking, you don’t know what to do or feel.

“She can’t be right.” you mumble. “He’s not bored of me. I’m not garbage…” you chant to yourself, trying to reset your brain from the low self esteem you’re feeling.

Heartache.

“Your majesty, we do have a lot more to offer y-…uh?” you hear the man say in the distance, as you throw up another time. You stare at the ground in a delirium, while holding on to the side of the house to your left.

You hate that you’re feeling like this, despite how sweetly he acted towards you this whole evening. Her words messed up your brain.

“Oy, Princess!” the voice you love comes up behind you.

Your face feels numb from the anxiety, but you try to overplay it.

“Just got sick from the sake I guess.” you say, before spitting.

He knows when I lie to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be up there.” you complain to distract him from the situation.

He looks at you for a second, before he grabs your wrist and drags you back into the forest.

“What are you-?”

“We’re leaving.” he growls.

Your eyes are fixated on his hand on your wrist, not knowing how to react, not knowing what to say. Looking down to the dark ground, you listen to the leaves and twigs cracking under your feet, until you finally reach the meadow in front of the shrine again.

The sounds of the festivities grow silent in the distance.

Sukuna keeps dragging you to the shrine, but you notice he’s not going for the entrance. Going to the right side of the shrine, he stops. You look at him questioningly. Without explaining anything, he leans down to you and lifts you up.

Huh?

You just function and your hands find the edge of the shrines roof. With a push, he shoves you on the elevated surface. You climb further on the roof, carefully using the spikes that protrude there, until you reach the top. The curved roof converges on a long broad wooden beam. You sit and look back to Sukuna. With a jump, he holds on to the edge and hoists himself up. You watch him climb to the top of the roof like you did, his four arms almost making him look like a monkey while he does so, the sight causing you to suppress a grin.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” you lie and turn your back to him. “What are we doing here?”

He sighs loudly, before he sits down on the wooden beam behind you and lays on his back. You notice and turn around to see what he’s doing. His right leg is up with his foot resting on the surface, while he lets his left leg dangling down the side of the roof.

“Enjoying the silence.” he says calmly, while closing his eyes. You blink and smile to yourself, wondering if he did this for you. Leaning down, your back finds its way to the wooden surface as well, your head finding its place right next to his.

Some moments pass in silence. You watch the sky and the stars and wonder if he does too or keeps his eyes closed. The situation from earlier however, still sits in your mind.

“She’s pretty.” you start in a quiet voice. “I would’ve chosen her, too.”

He huffs amused.

“Really?” you hear him smirk. “Mhm… Interesting.”

“Don’t you think she’s pretty enough to be your queen?” you ask.

“Would you like that?” he smirks.

“No… I would strangle her in her sleep.” you answer in a serious tone, while closing your eyes. “Then you can eat her. You looked so hungry while choosing her anyway.”

He snorts and chuckles loudly at your words, making you feel his head move next to yours. You smile along, glad that you could make him laugh.

“You watched very closely.” he adds.

“I did.” you say quietly, smile fading. A weird mix of happiness and sadness fills your stomach, making you chew on your lip.

“Do they always offer you a bunch of women, hoping one of them to become your Queen?” your voice quiet again.

“Mh Mh.” he hums in confirmation.

“They have good intentions, wanting a Queen for their King.” you chuckle nervously.

„They’re a bunch of fools.“ he sneers. “And you are, too.”

Ouch.

The sounds of feet on grass reach your ears and you elevate your head to look down to the meadow. You see Uraume and the chosen girl walk back to the shrine. Having their hands full, they carry a lot of the good that were offered to Sukuna. Uraume seems to explain her something, probably the same things they explained to you when you arrived. You watch them for a moment and look back to Sukuna laying next to you, until you lay down again and the emotions in your gut keep building and building.

Feeling happy, that he’s here with you despite choosing her. Feeling sad, that he chose her despite having you.

And now she’s on her way, walking right into the shrine.

Your lips start to tremble and you sit up, as suddenly your emotions overflow and tears fall from your eyes. The rest of the alcohol in your blood doesn’t help with this situation at all. In fact it’s making it worse.

“Why’re you crying?” Sukuna’s eyes bore into your back, as you sniff and wipe away your tears.

“I can’t say.” you sob, while the palm of your hand swipes over your right eye, feeling ashamed that your brain and the bitch is making you feel so insecure.

Sukuna smacks his lips in annoyance, before he looks up into the sky again.

“Stop it.” he demands, his strict voice punches you hard in your guts.

Sniff.

But after a moment, it somehow eases your mind, brings you back to the here and now.

He’s here with me.

With me and only me.

Right now.

Slowly, you calm down and grow quiet again.

“You looked fierce on the battlefield.” he continues, making you turn around to him. “Using that bow and arrow suited you. So stand proud… and stop crying.”

He’s looking to the sky, while he says his words and hearing them makes you want to bawl your eyes out even more.

“Ok.” you swallow your tears and lay back down, while he grumbles in response.

Sniff.

A moment passes, before you tilt your head a little bit and look up to the moon. It’s shining so bright onto the two of you.

He didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place…

“While you were gone, did you look up and watch the moon sometime?” you ask him.

“I did.” he whispers, making your heart ache. The reminder, that not only you longed for him, but he also longed for you.

“Me too.” you breathe.

”I know.” he answers quietly, making your heart skip a beat, before it starts racing.

The stars keep shining down on both of you, as you watch the sky, while your heart keeps beating heavily in your chest. Just you and him laying there, just feeling his existence and yours, just feeling the warmth of his face next to yours. Thoughts tingle in your mind.

Stand proud.

Boom!

Another firework.

Maybe the last one.

“Sukuna…” you breathe. Heart racing, as you keep thinking, while staring on the dark blue, glittering space above your head. Eyes dancing between the stars and sparkles that you see. His face softly tilts against yours, waiting for you to speak, while you ponder. Trembling fingers start fiddling gently with the fabric of your kimono, before you inhale, before your lips start moving.

“I love you.”

[anonymous-dentist]

An excerpt from my Royalty AU:

-

The knight stands in the middle of the road with his sword drawn and pointed towards them. His helmet is off, and his tiny little idiot baby bear ears twitch annoyedly as Cellbit whoahs the horse to a halt a good couple of meters away.

Subtly, Cellbit leans back and mutters, “Do you know him?”

Roier ponders. He makes a show of it, actually, putting his chin in his hand and frowning, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

“I don’t knoooow,” he muses, just loud enough for the knight to hear. “He looks familiar, but I’m not sure.”

The knight, predictably, scowls. He lowers his sword, but just slightly. But, really, that’s basically a surrender from him.

“Your highness,” the knight slowly says, “do you know how hard it was to find you?”

“‘Your highness’?” Roier exclaims, faux shock playing at his face.

He hooks his chin over Cellbit’s shoulder, looks at him and asks, “Gatinho, are you a prince? Why didn’t you tell me, pendejo!”

He lightly smacks Cellbit’s arm. Cellbit, in turn, gives him half of a glare out of the corner of his eye, but Roier can see the smile teasing at his perfect sexy lips.

“I thought I could keep it a secret…” Cellbit sighs. He hangs his head, leaning into the consoling hand Roier puts on his back. “Desculpe, guapito, I never wanted to lie to you.”

The knight looks between them, not remotely convinced. Roier sticks his tongue out at him. The knight rolls his eyes, used to it.

“Pinche pendejo,” Roier hisses, right into Cellbit’s ear. “Lie better. This guy is good.”

Cellbit’s ear twitches, and that’s all the acknowledgment he gives.

“Roier,” the knight sighs, “get off the horse. Vamos. Do you know how angry Vegetta is right now?”

“How would I know how the king is feeling?” Roier sniffs. “I don’t know him.”

“Oh my God,” the knight groans. He raises his sword again, and Roier has to grab onto both of Cellbit’s arms to keep him from reaching for his daggers. “Just get off of the horse before I have to kill it, too.”

Roier gasps dramatically. He can’t put a hand to his chest, holding Cellbit and all, so he settles for pulling one of Cellbit’s hands backwards and putting it to his chest instead. Cellbit audibly winces and snaps at him to watch it, but Roier knows that he’d never argue against getting to touch Roier’s pecs.

“Why are you even sharing a horse?” the knight asks. “Do you know this guy?”

Roier can’t exactly say that they’re both currently too broke to afford a second horse.

But he doesn’t even get a chance to even try to explain, because Cellbit does it for him, cutting into the conversation with a very proud-sounding, “He is my fiancé, excuse you. And I do not appreciate you talking to him like this.”

Roier could swoon. So he does, sighing forward and slumping against Cellbit’s back. The knight looks positively disgusted, but not because he’s homophobic. It’s the look of a man seeing his childhood best friend in love with an obvious criminal, and it’s hilarious.

Fiancé, Roier dreamily thinks. He just wishes that they got to be boyfriends first.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 27: You'll Be In My Heart

Word Count: 729/Rating: M/Pairing: None/CW: canon-compliant, Eddie's funeral, dead dove!!!/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, Jeff's POV, Metallica, Corroded Coffin, funeral, death

Divider credit to @silkholland

Life, it seems, will fade away Drifting further every day

Today was the second time Jeff had stood in as Corroded Coffin’s frontman.

The first time was two years ago. Eddie had gotten laryngitis right before a gig and asked Jeff to take over rather than cancel the show altogether.

“You know all the chords and the lyrics,” he’d croaked into the phone. Jeff could hear the smile in his voice. “Go out there and kick ass.”

With abundant trepidation, Jeff took center stage that night, his nerves easing and confidence growing with each note he played. The sound wasn’t as full with only one guitar, and his voice wasn’t as powerful as Eddie’s, but he was good. Good enough to warrant praise from the band’s fearless leader.

Getting lost within myself Nothing matters, no one else

“Don’t let this go to your head, now,” Eddie had teased, clapping a hand on Jeff’s back, “but you made me damn proud. Not just the way you played–Grant and Gareth told me you were a total fuckin’ rockstar, by the way–but for stepping up when we needed you.”

That first time was a celebration. The second time was agony.

Jeff stood behind the microphone at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, feeling Gareth staring at him from where he sat at his drum set. Grant kept his gaze on the strings of his bass, eyes shiny with the threat of tears. If he made eye contact with either of the other two young men beside him, he’d almost certainly begin sobbing.

I have lost the will to live Simply nothing more to give There is nothing more for me Need the end to set me free

Despite having sung the Metallica cover hundreds of times, the lyrics felt foreign coming out of Jeff’s mouth. His voice was warped in his own ears the way a well-loved cassette sounds when the tape unspools.

The crowd was tiny but mighty, if not confusing. Among the expected attendees was Eddie’s Uncle Wayne, who had been the one to ask Corroded Coffin’s three remaining members to play at his nephew’s funeral. It seemed macabre to have a band with the word ‘coffin’ in its name to play such an occasion, but Wayne had insisted upon it.

“It’s what Eddie would’ve wanted,” he’d said, his whiskered jaw trembling the same way it was now.

Things not what they used to be Missing one inside of me Deathly lost, this can't be real Cannot stand this hell I feel

Dustin Henderson sat beside him, lips tucked into his mouth as he swallowed back tears. A running joke among the Hellfire Club was that Dustin hadn’t shut up since the moment he learned to talk, but he’d barely spoken a word since that godforsaken earthquake hit. 

Behind them sat the Sinclairs. Jeff couldn’t help but notice the way Lucas and Erica’s fingers intertwined, eyes stained with the harsh redness that only came from nonstop crying. The whole Wheeler family was situated next to them, along with Mike’s girlfriend from California, her buzzed hair just like Eddie’s back in junior high.

Emptiness is filling me To the point of agony Growing darkness taking dawn I was me, but now he's gone

The most surprising guests were Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. Jeff watched a mascara-tinged tear trail down the awkward band geek’s freckled cheek, the former King of Hawkins High digging into his suit jacket and offering her a Kleenex. He hadn’t been aware that those two were friends nor that they were close enough to Eddie to attend his funeral, but he lacked the energy to question it.

No one but me can save myself, but it's too late Now I can't think, think why I should even try

A calming presence enveloped Jeff as the song neared its conclusion, bringing the same tingle of joy that he’d had when Eddie had lauded him after his first foray into lead guitarist. He wasn’t sure how he’d go on–how the band would go on–without Eddie’s guidance, but he’d solve that problem when his world hadn’t been turned on its head. His job now was simply to be the leader that Grant and Gareth needed. The leader that Eddie had taught him to be.

Yesterday seems as though it never existed Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye Goodbye

--