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kykyonthemoon · 3 months ago

Text

His Mini Version

His reaction when he saw the little doll version of himself that you possessed.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader (MC)

Included parts in order: Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb.

♡︎. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, soft and sweet, plush dolls, established relationship, jealousy (Xavier's part), long distance relationship (Caleb's part)

♡︎. Word count: ~2k4

♡︎. Requested by Yue AuV.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Rafayel

“Huh?”

Rafayel picked up the plush doll on the table, examined it for a moment, then turned to you and asked, "Is this how you think of me?"

You blinked. "Lovely, right?"

Rafayel frowned. He raised the doll to your eye level and said:

“Hear me out, Miss Bodyguard. I do look handsome and stylish, my physique is toned, with a model-like form. Yet, why... Why is this doll that you believe to resemble me so... chubby?"

"Rafayel!" You shrieked and swiftly grabbed both hands to cover the doll's ears. "How can you say that in front of Little Fish?! He'll feel terrible for himself!"

Rafayel gazed at you, then at the plush doll you had just given a name. His body was spherical, with small arms and legs coming out of it. His face was likewise round and fully linked to his body, resembling a huge cotton ball with purple hair patches on top.

"I've gained a little weight lately," Rafayel said, pouting while rubbing his belly. “But I'm definitely not that round!”

“I made him exactly like you for a purpose. Criticizing him means you are criticizing yourself.”

Rafayel did not give up. He took up Little Fish and brought it near to your face so you could compare.

“Don't you think he's muuuuuuuuch less attractive than me? His body is not as beautiful as mine. He is not as cute or talented as me. Can he paint? Can he make you laugh? What makes you think he can ever replace me?!”

You tried not to laugh when Rafayel puffed up his cheeks, looking like a pufferfish, even identical to that plump plush doll. You replied:

“Well, you don't know that Little Fish also has a very special feature that is different from other dolls!”

"What's so amazing about it? Tell me."

You extended your hands to accept the doll from Rafayel. When you gently squeezed the center of his chest, Little Fish made a sound mimicking Rafayel's voice:

“Hello Miss Bodyguard! Hello Miss Bodyguard!”

Rafayel stared at him with wide eyes. His demeanor changed from astonished to slightly suspicious.

"I recorded your voice," you added. "Simply hit the button, and he will talk. I can make a new recording if you want. What do you think? He's good, huh?"

You enthusiastically hugged Little Fish and approached him. Rafayel simply scratched his head. “Humans certainly have many strange toys,” he commented. But in the end, seeing you having so much fun with the plush doll, he patted your head and said: "Even though it's a bit ugly and weird compared to my standards, I'm still happy that Miss Bodyguard likes me so much that she even owns a plush doll designed after me!"

Xavier

Since joining Lumiere's fanclub, which was founded by your colleague Nero, you frequently brought home merchandise related to him. There were badges, cards, decorations, and even cotton goods. Among the dozens of Lumiere products that take up room in your residence on a daily basis, you absolutely adored the plush doll named Lumi.

Lumi had two bunny ears and was only a little larger than your hand, making him easy to carry anywhere and at any time. When you worked, he would stand on the desk to encourage you. When you trained, he would slip into your coat pocket and patiently wait for you on the bench. Every time you went out, you carefully put him in your bag. When you arrived home, he was usually on the couch next to you, or cuddled in your arms while you watched TV together. Even when you slept, you would bring him into bed, place him next to your pillow and cover him with a blanket.

Needless to say, this made Xavier quite uneasy. He had not liked Lumi one bit since he appeared in your arms for the first time. The plush doll occupied all your attention. He accompanied you everywhere, all the time. Your phone was full of pictures of him. Even when you slept, the doll was allowed to sleep with you while Xavier was left out. He sat on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms and glancing at Lumi.

“That's it, kiddo.”

Lumi opened his large blue eyes to stare at Xavier.

“You must leave.”

A rabbit ear on Lumi's head drooped down.

“Give her back to me. Besides, the place where you sleep used to be mine."

The plush doll continued to stare at him with such innocence. Just as Xavier was about to pick him up, you walked into the room. You had changed your clothing, and of course, your pajamas included Lumiere's chibi pattern on them.

“What are you talking about with little Lumi?” You asked.

“Ah, nothing. I'm just telling him to go away.”

"Huh? Why? He's so little, he won't take up too much room on the bed, right?"

Xavier gave him a glance before turning to you, and his eyes quickly returned to their round, watery condition.

“He's been following you all day. Why does he even take my place at night? Do you really like him more than me?”

Xavier knew too well that you easily got softened when he acted like that. If Lumi's cuteness captured your heart, he would reclaim it by the same method.

“It's not like that,” you replied. One of your hands caressed Xavier's cheek. “Lumi is the one who will protect me in my dreams on the long nights while you're not here.”

Xavier rubbed his face into your palm. He said, “But now that I'm here, Lumi can go elsewhere.”

You thought what he said was right. So you compromised and placed the doll on the opposite side of your pillow, rather than between you and Xavier as previously. You snuggled into Xavier's arms. He remained silent, as if he had a lot on his mind. Then, after you had fallen asleep, he covertly grabbed Lumi and threw him to the ground, then hugged you even tighter.

Zayne

You set a lunch box on Zayne's desk, then placed something else on top.

It was a little plush doll measuring about ten centimeters. He had black hair, green bean eyes with a little brownish-yellow tint, he also donned a white blouse just like a certain doctor.

“What do you have there? A mini version of me, it seems?” Zayne asked while putting away the files on his desk to prepare for lunch with you.

“Hehe,” you happily took the doll. He nestled into the palm of your hand. “Doctor Zayne, look how small you are! I can hold you with just one hand.”

Zayne gave you a little grin. Then he grabbed your other hand, pulling you closer to him.

"Of course." But if you use both hands, you'll be able to handle more than one Doctor Zayne.

You grasped both big and small Zayne with care.

Lunch that day went really well. Before departing, you slipped the little plush doll inside your coat pocket on the left side of your chest, patted it a few times, and told Zayne:

“This is where tiny Zayne will stay every day. I will take him everywhere, including work, amusement parks, and even home. He will always be by my side!”

Zayne smiled and responded, "It turns out that I can cure not only your heart disease, but also your love sickness?"

You blushed. The Zayne standing in front of you suddenly leaned down, as if talking to the little doll in your pocket: "Miss Hunter and this plush doll's entire day would be so hectic. Would you mind asking her whether she still has time to join me for dinner tonight?"

You laughed when you noticed Zayne's childishness. You replied: “Of course I do. But after all, little Zayne is still an intern here. What are Doctor Zayne's thoughts about being his mentor?"

Zayne stood up straight, tenderly touching the doll's cheek with his finger. "All right. I'll be spending time with Intern Zayne. But when I do that, the lady who takes care of Intern Zayne should come along as well.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Zayne's fingers rose to push on your face. You puffed up your cheeks and nodded firmly in accord. From that day on, all your dates with Zayne were accompanied by little Intern Zayne, and he even made arrangements for the doll to have a separate seat by the windshield of his car.

Sylus

Sylus made frequent late-night visits to your place. That night was no exception. But he was astonished to see you open the door with a worn out expression, dragging a big plush doll on the ground.

"Why does it look so familiar?" Sylus spoke after studying the doll. He was around sixty centimeters tall, with white hair, red eyes like two rubies, and a signature smirk that looked so much like Sylus's.

"Huh? Oh, Baby Crow is a mini version of you!” You replied. After closing the door, you strolled back to the living room, holding the doll. You and him fell onto the sofa. Feeling tired after a long day, you had decided to hug the doll to bed before Sylus arrived.

He looked at you and that Baby Crow doll on the sofa and clicked his tongue. “It's a little huge compared to the definition of mini. And what the heck are you putting on me?”

Sylus snatched him out of your grasp. The doll - his little version - was dressed in pink Hello Kitty patterned pajamas, identical to the ones you were wearing. He frowned.

“You and the doll even have matching pajamas. Where are mine then?”

Slowly opened your eyes on the sofa, you giggled: "Seeing that you like it so much, I will make you a set tomorrow. There are also Kuromi ones."

Sylus leaned down and kissed your hair, whispering: "Sleeping on the sofa will hurt your body." Then he helped you get up. You wrapped all of your limbs around Sylus's torso, as he held you with one hand and carried Baby Crow inside the room with the other.

Another night, when Sylus arrived home late, he caught you cuddling Baby Crow and sleeping soundly on the bed. Both of you were wearing the purple Kuromi pajamas you had mentioned before. He grinned as he softly punched Baby Crow.

“Hey, you're taking up my space,” he told him.

The plush doll's challenging smile appeared to be taunting him. Sylus removed him from your arms and placed him at the end of the bed. Because there was nothing left to hug, you rolled over slightly, your fingers constantly searching for warmth until you found him.

Sylus took the doll's place, held you, and allowed you to immerse yourself in his arms. He said quietly: "You don't need a plush version of me anymore when you have the real one here, right?"

The next morning, still drowsy, you cuddled him and told him that your Baby Crow had grown into a genuine person.

Caleb

Caleb sent you a surprise package. Curious, you opened it and discovered a plush doll the size of a pillow inside. What was worth noting was that the doll resembled him, with purple eyes and an apple on his head. You phoned to show off to Caleb, who was still on duty at Skyhaven.

“Oh, you got him? I mean, Baby Cal?”

“You even have a name for him?” You grabbed the doll and placed him in your lap so Caleb could see him through the video call screen.

"Of course. I purposefully ordered him specifically for you. He's a present.” Caleb smiled brightly. He was free at the time, but his mission had yet to end so he could not come home to you right away.

You gazed down at the doll on your lap. He was so warm, and his adorable chubby face reminded you so much of Caleb. You inquired:

“But why did you send him to me?”

"To keep you company when I'm away on missions, of course," was his reply. "He will remind you to eat and go to bed on time, or hug you when you're weary."

You touched Cal's head. It was true; he was so soft that you simply wanted to squeeze him.

"Is this your compensation for not coming home for a month?"

Caleb laughed. He seemed a little sad. Then he instantly returned to his regular fresh appearance.

“Do you like him?”

"Of course. I can even release my rage on him every time I'm angry at you. Look!”

Having said that, you squeezed the doll's cheeks really hard. Caleb laughed from the other side of the screen. "Poor, little Cal. It looks like he'll have to take my position as your punching bag for a while now."

You kneaded the doll's cheeks again. He even donned a military uniform similar to Caleb's. The doll would not be able to replace him, you know; yet his existence would sooth your longing for the real person.

You leaned your head against Cal and asked Caleb:

“I have Cal here. What about you?”

“Oh, wait a minute.”

Caleb disappeared from the screen. You heard a rustling noise. A few minutes later, he emerged with another plush doll dressed in a Hunter suit. You immediately recognized it as a plush replica of yourself.

“This is little Hunter,” said Caleb. “She and little Cal are a couple. Every time I look at her, I will always think of you. For example, when I enter the room, she will appear and say: 'Why haven't you bought a ticket to Linkon yet?!' or 'You still dare to stay up late playing games?!'..."

You burst into laughter. "I didn't say it in that awful voice. But how old are you to even buy these things?..."

“I've been teased a lot by colleagues these past few days since I got little Hunter,” Caleb told you. “But since I think you also like plushies, I wanted to make something for you.”

"Thank you." You smiled, lovingly rubbing the doll he sent. “I like little Cal, but he's going to miss little Hunter very much. You mentioned that they were a couple. It means they should not be apart for too long, right?”

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months ago

Text

Title: Jikininki Disorder.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.0k.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Cannibalism, No Curse AU, Chef Sukuna AU, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Kidnapping, Gore, Physical + Psychological Abuse, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Prolonged Captivity. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Sukuna kept the basement door locked.

That was the only part of his rustic, oversized house that was off-limits to you. For the first few weeks, he’d kept you either collared and leashed to the headboard of his bed if he was home and locked in a roughly human-sized dog kennel when he wasn’t, but now, you were allowed to wander freely, even if he still kept deadbolts on the windows and doors. Occasionally, he’d lock you out of the kitchen while he was working on a new recipe or tell you to stay in your bedroom while he talked to his every-mysterious “business partners”, but for a kidnapper, Sukuna was surprisingly trusting. The basement door was the only thing that was always locked – and you should know. You checked the knob at least twice a day.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of you escaping, or hurting yourself, or god forbid, hurting him. Even in the early days, before you’d proved you weren’t going to run away, he seemed to be more concerned that you might be a nuisance than that you might be any kind of threat. The only thing you really knew was that the basement was where he kept his meat locker, and while you were curious, you were sure that wasn’t what he was keeping you away from. Sukuna had you sample everything he made. If he was going to start withholding food, then he would’ve had to—

“Oi, brat.” You felt his elbow jab into your side, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Quit daydreaming and try this.”

You glanced towards him, pouting as you straightened your back and repositioned yourself on the kitchen counter. You would’ve been more comfortable to sit on the floor, or better yet, at the table in the next room, but he liked to have you as close as possible whenever he was cooking. Not that you’d have it any other way. “You’re always so mean to me,” you sighed, in a pitchy mock whine. “One day, I’m not going to want to spend time with you at all.”

“As if. You can’t get enough of me.” He rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove top. Currently, he was working on something for his restaurant – a variation on karaage, a spread of vegetables and meat (pork, maybe, but you weren’t entirely sure) sitting on a cutting board off to the side, a greased skillet waiting next to it. His attention was on the broth simmering in the pot in front of him, though, which his ingredients would strew in before being fried. He’d been toying with it for the better part of an hour, and you’d sat diligently within arm’s reach, only slightly motivated by the fact that he’d threatened to break both your ankles if you tried to move.

Your sample turned out to be a piece of broccoli – likely chosen to best compliment the flavor of the broth – and you accepted it eagerly, letting Sukuna bring his chopsticks to your lips and feed you by-hand. Of course, the flavor was heavenly, and of course, you took long seconds to savor it, letting your eyes fall shut as you chewed and swallowed. Sukuna watched you intently, his dark eyes never leaving your lips. It wasn’t a secret that his favorite part of you had always been your mouth. You didn’t mind – his cooking was the only thing you’d ever liked about him.

Praise would’ve been pointless. It was a given that anything he made would be the best thing you’d ever tasted, so you tried to focus on something more productive. “It’s… salty,” you surmised, pursing your lips. “Did you use your…?”

“Cum?” Sukuna finished. “Just a tablespoon. ‘m surprised you can even taste it.”

A month ago, you might’ve recoiled, refused to eat, but now, it was all you could do to pretend to be surprised.

You watched intently as he added another cup of water, another round of herbs all kept in mismatched, unlabeled jars. Your heart skipped a beat as he finally reached towards the cutting board, but he pulled away at the last minute, turning to you, instead.

“’kuna,” you whined as he slid into the space between your legs, planting a large hand on either side of you. “I was actually hoping to eat sometime tonight, y’know.”

“I know, I know.” And yet, he didn’t seem concerned, chuckling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. “You’ll get to, just sit pretty for a little while longer.”

“But—” He cut you off with another kiss, this one immediately followed by feeling of his pointed canines burrowing into tender skin. You flinched into yourself, and Sukuna groaned into your neck, drawing back just far enough to run the flat of his tongue over the twin puncture marks. Your hands shot to his shoulders, but you resisted the urge to push him away. Even if you did, it was already too late; you could feel something stiff pressing against the inside of your thigh, hear him murmuring something low and affectionate into the dip of your shoulder. Resigned, you leaned back against the kitchen cabinets and shut your eyes.

At least, if he got this over with quickly enough, you might still get to eat.

Your first impression of Sukuna, unsurprisingly, was that he looked more like a body builder than a chef.

Calling him massive would’ve been an understatement. He stood a head above you, with biceps as thick as your head and a chest so defined, you could see the outline of his definition through the thin fabric of his black (presumably not Health and Safety compliant) tank top. He had piercings, too – twin studs underneath his bottom lip, lining the bridge of his nose – and tattoos, black lines forming intricate patterns across his jawline and bands around his wrist. You already had your back to the concrete wall, but you pressed yourself against it, regardless, eager to put as much space between you and him as possible. Sukuna remained where he was, perpetually unimpressed.

His introduction was brief, succinct. “You’re the little bitch Uraume sent out?”

“I… I think so?” You genuinely weren’t sure. The waitress had only told you that the owner wanted to talk to you outside, which you hadn’t been surprised by. It was your fourth time coming in that week, since his restaurant didn’t do takeout and the last person to order more than they could eat in one sitting was promptly and proudly taken outside and beaten half to death. You couldn’t risk that, not when more than half of your meals came from his shop. “I’m sorry, I just—Are you the chef? I really like—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He took half a step toward you, and you glanced down the alleyway behind his restaurant. One end was cut off with a chain-link fence, and while the other side opened up onto a proper road, it was still more than fifty feet away. You never would’ve made it, not with someone like Sukuna chasing you. “Who sent you? The Gojo clan?”

Sent you? You had no idea what he was talking about – if you had someone to fund your addiction, you wouldn’t have to resign yourself the cheapest section of his overpriced menu. You opened your mouth, but must’ve taken longer to answer than you realized. You blinked, and suddenly, his hand was planted on the wall beside your head, his body only a hair’s width from yours. He had to tilt his head forward to look at you, which while not surprising, did little to comfort you. “Answer the fucking question.” And then, when you shrunk into yourself at his tone. “I swear to fucking Christ—Did he tell you what happens to the people who piss me off? Because you’re about to—”

“I can’t eat anything else!”

You were just as surprised as he was to hear your own voice. Still, you did your best to recover quickly, falling into a stiff bow as deep as the confined space would allow. With your eyes fixed on the pavement, you forced yourself to go on, to say something that would stop the owner of your favorite restaurant from murdering you in the alleyway behind that aforementioned restaurant. “I—I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but—but a classmate brought me here a few months ago, and—and I haven’t been able to eat anywhere else since. I can come in less often, if that’s what you’re bothered by, but please.” You forced yourself to inhale, to breathe. “Please, don’t ban me.”

At that, Sukuna broke. You didn’t dare to look at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice, the airy laugh lacing his tone, as if he found something about your desperation funny. He did, obviously. You’d quickly realize that Sukuna found most things about you funny. “You think I’m going to… What was it? Ban you?”

You nodded furiously. “I—I know you kicked out that salaryman last week, and a couple students the week before. They were all regulars, but I haven’t seen any of them since.” It was a rushed explanation, only half-coherent, but you still tried to go on, bowing your head. “I—I can’t cook, and I can’t eat anywhere else, anymore. If you ban me, I really don’t have a lot of other options, so—”

“You can go back to your table.”

It was your turn to blink, this time, to startle. You didn’t straighten your back, not until you felt Sukuna’s hand on your shoulder, heard the grin in his voice sharpen. “Really?”

“Mhm. Don’t order, I’ll send something over. And you’re going to stay until closing.” And then, as you stared up at him with as much gratitude you’d ever felt, “We’re going to grab a couple drinks after I close up shop. Try to think of a few more compliments, before then.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded regardless. After scurrying back to your table before Sukuna could change his mind, a white-haired woman who you’d never seen working the front of house before brought you a meat dish so rare, you could’ve sworn it hadn’t been cooked at all.

It went without saying that you savored every bite.

“Needy ass brat.”

His bicep dug into your stomach where you were slung over his shoulder, your legs dangling uselessly was your hands clawed half-heartedly at his back. You weren’t really upset that he’d caught you – you knew it’d only be a matter of time the moment you slipped out of bed – but it was frustrating just how quickly he’d come to get you. You’d barely gotten to the kitchen, let alone the fridge.

Your mind drifted back to the basement door – to the meat locker. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you decided that you would try to pick the lock tomorrow, after he’d left for the day. Whatever punishment he’d dull out would be worth it, if you could actually get in.

Unceremoniously, you were dumped onto the floor of his bedroom, left to shamble to your knees as he collapsed onto the foot of the bed. You moved to stand, but Sukuna was quick to catch you by the hair and force you back down. “Disobedient, too,” he muttered, his voice still rough with exhaustion. “Tell me what you were trying to do before I decide you can’t be trusted with the ability to walk.”

You sulked, letting out a shallow sigh and resting your cheek against the inside of his knee. “I’m just hungry,” you explained, feigning thoughtlessness. It was more or less true. You were eating better than you ever had before, and yet, your stomach had never felt emptier. “I was gonna come back, after I got something.”

Sukuna chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. You melted into his thigh, eager to keep his mood light, sentimental. “I feed you three gourmet meals a day, baby. Don’t act like you’re starving.”

“But I am.” You sighed, stared up at him with your doe-like expression. “I’ve really been craving meat, lately, ‘specially that stuff you keep downstairs. Can you make it again tomorrow?”

“We’ll see. I don’t want you getting spoiled, and ‘sides, I’ve gotta save some of it for the shop.” You frowned, sinking deeper into his thigh, and Sukuna sighed, raking his nails over your scalp. “But, maybe, if I got some motivation from my little helper…”

He trailed off, and suddenly, it was your turn to play oblivious. “Well, yeah, I’d obviously help,” you chirped, mimicking his smile. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, though, so you can’t blame me if—”

“That’s not what I want from you, babydoll.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. It wasn’t painful, but the way his fingers tugged at your hair was.

He didn’t pull. You tried to be thankful for that, but it was hard to be thankful for anything when his free hand was already at the waistband of his sweats, freeing the semi-stiff cock formerly hidden beneath the grey fabric. You frowned, but didn’t pull away. “How are you already hard?” And then, as you settled onto your knees, “You woke up, like, two minutes ago.”

“Always gotta have something nice n’ warm ready for my baby.” Rather than let your whining deter him, he focused on drawing you into his lap, encouraging you to lean into him, to brace yourself on his muscular thighs. Controlling as always, Sukuna guided you gently towards his cock. You half-expected him to force you down at the last minute, to laugh as he suffocated you on his length, but of course, he didn’t. He wasn’t that kind.

He wouldn’t let you play such a passive role in your own dehumanization.

You moved as quickly as you could without making your unwillingness entirely transparent, taking the head of his cock past your lips and running the flat of your tongue over his slit (already leaking, as if this couldn’t get any worse). You couldn’t pretend to be some pure-of-heart, dewy eyed virgin, not when most of your mornings were started with Sukuna thrusting three fingers lazily into your cunt and most of your nights ended with his face buried between your thighs, but you never seemed to be able to completely brace yourself for just how wide you had to open your mouth to take him, just how mindful you had to be to not let your teeth scrape against his shaft as you struggled to get past his tip. Like everything else about Sukuna, his cock was too fucking big. Not that he seemed to care.

If anything, Sukuna seemed to like the way you gagged around him. As you wrapped a hand around his base, pumping over the parts of his shaft you couldn’t swallow and trying to ignore the fact that your fingers didn’t touch, you heard him groan, felt his grip tighten on your hair, and knew he was staring at you, drinking in the sight of you choking on his cock with as little shame as you had dignity. “Good girl,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Are you gonna start moving, or does the spoiled princess need a little help?”

‘Help’ meant him holding your head in-place while he fucked your skull. Resisting the urge to shake your head, you bobbed shallowly, the veined underside of his cock gliding over your tongue as a knot of ache formed in either corner of your jaw, the strain already too painful to ignore. You could taste his arousal in the back of your throat, feel him throbbing against the hollows of your cheeks, but you forced yourself to dip your head lower, to take him deeper, to at least attempt to match the stuttering pace of your hand with that of your mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him distracted. His hand drifted from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, his thumb pushing rough patterns into your skin. “Still can’t believe I get to keep such a sweet thing all to myself.” It was almost cruel, how composed he sounded while saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth. “It would’ve been a shame if I’d fucked up and done something really mean, that first day. I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it, though. As soon as I got a good look, all I wanted was to see what that pretty mouth looked like wrapped around my cock.”

His breath hitched, his hips bucked, and you audibly gagged as the blunt head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat. You jerked away on reflex, but Sukuna didn’t let you go far. His hand wrapped around your neck as he rolled his hips, forcing another inch of his cock down your throat, then another, until it was all you could do to blink away the tears quickly forming in your eyes. Your hand fell away from his shaft to scramble and claw at his thighs, but if Sukuna mourned the loss of contact, you couldn’t tell. The only thing you could make out was his cock pulsing against the convulsing walls of your throat and his voice, as distant as it was deafening. “Fuck,” he sighed, then again, “Fuck. Desperate little bitch. My desperate little bitch. Can’t go three fucking seconds without needing me to take care of you, isn’t that right?”

Your only response was a desperate, keening whine – mostly muffled by the twitching object lodged in your airway. Rather than a plea for mercy, Sukuna seemed to take it as confirmation, taking you by the back of your head and forcing you that much further, that much closer. “Fucking—Take it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to spit, let alone pull away. Your nose brushed against the defined muscle of his abdomen as you felt something bitter and searing flood down your throat. Calling it swallowing would’ve been too generous.

That night, you vomited twice before letting Sukuna carry you to bed. Despite everything, you would dream only of the taste of fresh blood and burnt meat.

Despite everything, you only saw the kitchen of Sukuna’s restaurant once. He expected you at your usual table almost every day, invited you out for drinks at one of his classy, dimly lit lounges (a severe juxtaposition to his own hole-in-the-wall establishment) nearly as often as that, but he only let you see his back of house once, late at night, hours after closing.

Coincidentally, that was also the night he took you away.

Admittedly, it was difficult to remember why you’d been called back to the kitchen. That section of your day was blurry, distant, fuzzy around the edges from the moment you stepped into his shop to the second you woke up alone in a bed you didn’t recognize, the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke thick in the air. Still, you could remember the feeling of chilled titanium pressing into your back, the heat of Sukuna’s body above you, what he’d looked like as you stared up at him from below. You remembered thinking, possibly for the first time, that you hated everything about him, from his inflated ego to his resonating voice to his awful, conniving smirk, and realizing that you’d never be able to leave him.

You also remembered the white-haired server being there – standing in the doorway, her expression one of pleasant indifference as she explained something grotesque and nonsensical to Sukuna, either oblivious to or uncaring of how deeply he was buried inside of you. You watched her lips move, but only a few words broke through the haze – disposal and witness, nothing that made any sense. You remembered noticing how pretty she was, and thinking that it was a shame she wasn’t the owner, rather than Sukuna.

You could remember asking for something, and Sukuna humming in response before something was shoved past your lips – heady and thick and raw. You tasted blood on your lips, felt yourself choke, and then, everything was dark.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You should’ve known he’d gotten home. You’d been able to make out the sound of his footsteps through the floor above, been able to feel the light spill onto your back as the basement door and its useless, mangled knob were pushed open, but it wasn’t until you heard his voice that you could bring yourself to care. Even then, your hold on the raw chunk of half-frozen meat only tightened, nails digging into the ruddy, bleeding tissue. As much as you didn’t want to put a name to it, it would’ve been impossible to deny what it was – to ignore what you’d seen inside of the meat locker, to pretend you hadn’t recognized the disassembled bodies hanging on rusted-over hooks, to act like you could mistake the taste still heavy on your tongue for that of pig, or cow, or some other, inferior animal. It would’ve been useless, even if the temptation was still there. It would’ve been futile.

Almost as futile as trying to deny that it was the best fucking thing you’d ever choked down.

You heard the tell-tale creak of Sukuna starting to descend the staircase, and before you could stop yourself, dug your teeth into the brunt of the sinew, tearing off the largest mouthful you were capable of and swallowing it whole. You dipped your head for another bite, but it was too late – Sukuna was already behind you, his hand already wrapped around the collar of your shirt, your body already being jerked back and away from your hard-earned prize. You tried to dig your nails into the thick of the fat, to stuff the last of it past your lips, but with an airy chuckle and a quirk of his wrist, the cut was torn away and discarded just as thoughtlessly.

For the first time, you snapped towards Sukuna, your teeth bared and your eyes narrowed into something furious, something hostile. “Why would you—” And then, letting out a miserable sob and turning away from him, “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then—”

“I get it, baby. You aren’t in trouble.”

“And then I found something heavy enough to break the knob and I couldn’t stop thinking about—” You cut yourself off suddenly, letting out a sharp exhale. “…I’m not?”

“No, princess, you’re not.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve mistaken his tone for something gentle. His gaze fell to your chest, and for the first time, you noticed the blood dripping down your chin, staining the fabric of your top. “We should get you cleaned up, though. You’ll only feel shittier when it dries.”

You didn’t protest as he pulled you into his arms and carried you upstairs, out of the basement, away from the meat locker. You didn’t say anything as he set you on his bed, your back leaning against the headboard, and eased your top over your head, replacing it with one of his own, and produced a damp cloth from the nearest bathroom. Gingerly, he cleaned the gore off your face, never rushing through a stroke or applying more pressure than was absolutely necessary, stopping often to kiss your forehead or the bridge of your nose. You were sniffling by the time he finished, crying by the time he left the room, and sobbing when he came back – a bowl in hand with a pair of chopsticks laid across its rim.

Its contents were predictable: meat, pan-grilled in thin slices and, as far as you could tell, left unseasoned. “I’ll make some rice when you’re done,” Sukuna went on, as you struggled with the chopsticks. “To balance it out. You’ll need something to take the edge off.”

You nodded vacantly, accepting the bowl greedily despite your shaking hands. It was better raw – the flavor richer, the taste fresher – but you weren’t in a place to complain, not when it was so much easier when you didn’t have to gnaw and tear like some wild, starving animal. Not that you weren’t eating like one – keeping the rim of the bowl pressed into your chin, never letting more than a second lapse between one mouthful and the next. You only paused when you felt the mattress dip, noticed Sukuna positioning himself between your legs, and but he only smiled, only rested a hand on your knee. “Keep going,” he urged. “It’d be a waste to let it get cold, right?”

“I don’t like this.” Your voice was still unsteady, prone to cracking, but it was true. You didn’t want him to pretend to be nice. “I’ve never really liked you. I’d leave, if I could. There hasn’t been a moment since you kidnapped me that I haven’t spent fantasizing about getting out and fixing what you’ve done to me.”

“You’re just saying that to hurt my feelings, doll.” You were, but it wasn’t. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his chest, one hand spreading your thighs apart while the other toyed lazily with the hem of your shorts. You felt him lean against your thigh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the tender flesh. You’d gained weight during your time with him – not much, just a few pounds, a little plush to soften your harsher edges. You weren’t sure whether or not to care. “I’m just proud, that’s all. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?”

You didn’t want anything from him. Your appetite gone, you placed the bowl haphazardly on the bedside table, watching through clouded eyes as Sukuna removed your shorts entirely, taking agonizing seconds to guide them down your legs before letting them drop to the floor below. You expected your panties to follow, but Sukuna only settled into place, dragging the pad of his thumb over the length of your slit, pausing to draw slow, idle circles into your clit through the silken fabric. It went without saying that he picked out your clothes, even if he rarely had the patience to tell you exactly what to wear. You were allowed to choose your outfit day-to-day, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t, not when your entire closet was suited to his tastes.

His hands curled around your thighs. You felt his tongue before you realized what he was doing – wet and warm and thick, his saliva soaking through the thin material and infecting you, spoiling you. You tried to ignore it, to remind yourself that you should be used to this, used to him, but this just… wasn’t what you were used to. Normally, you could expect him to be cruel, degrading, impulsive, but tonight, he seemed more than happy to bury his face between your thighs and play lover – albeit, a lover who still must’ve known he was unwanted. A lover who must’ve known you would’ve preferred a captor.

Your panties were dragged to the side, his tongue immediately finding your cunt. He took his time, laving over your entrance, coaxing reactions out of you despite your best attempts to dig your teeth into your tongue and hold back. He knew too much about you. He’d had too much time to learn. Heat pooled in your core, leaking out through your pussy, and Sukuna lapped it up like a fine wine – his thumb finding your clit as his tongue traced patterns into your cunt, and—

And oh, god, you were crying again, tears dripping down your cheeks despite your pitiful attempts to brush them away. Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you felt him smile against the inside of your thigh, his tongue dipping shallowly into your cunt once, twice before he pulled away, straightening his back. His hand quickly replaced his mouth, two thick fingers thrusting into pussy with a humiliating sort of ease, spreading apart and curling against you and filling his bedroom with those embarrassing, wet, vile noises you’d never been able to stand. He didn’t seem to mind, holding your gaze as he spoke. “When did you put it together?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t play dumb.” And then, as his thumb traced harsh circles into your clit, “You knew what you were looking for. What gave it away? The texture? The smell?”

Your mouth opened, but you didn’t answer, a fractured moan falling from your lips in the place of anything more intelligent. Sukuna hummed, adding a third digit, and you spilled open in an instant. “Your restaurant,” you managed, the words rushed and sloppy. “No matter what I ordered, the meat would always taste the same. At first, I—I thought you were just being cheap, but then I noticed how often your regulars would just suddenly stop coming in, and—”

You were cut off by your own miserable, keening whine; his calloused fingers catching on something tender and vulnerable inside of you and taking advantage of it. “And you kept coming in,” he finished, hushing your whimpering. “Loyal little brat. Uraume wanted to get rid of you, but I knew I was right to take you in.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You were too busy moving your hips against his hand, seeking out the pleasure that your body craved and your mind rejected. Sukuna took pity on you, cooing as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, supporting you as the movements of his hand turned short, erratic, as he edged you closer and closer and closer to your climax. You came undone with a sob, burying your face in his chest, and Sukuna was kind enough to nurse you through it, to hold you against him as your body crumpled and your poor, beaten soul seemed to give out entirely.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “I think,” he said, bowing his head and running his tongue over your cheek. “It’s time for you to learn to cook.”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t have to. There was only one thing you ever would’ve said.

“I’d like that.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna

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sabsberries · 16 days ago

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I love you, I'm sorry - h.s.

summary - Harry's ex girlfriend comes over to pick up her belongings after their breakup

w.c - 2.2k

warnings - swearing, angst, use of Y/N, lowkey didn't proofread, and lowkey rushed ending...

part 2 here

Harry couldn't decide which was worse: the breakup itself, or watching her walk around his house, barely digging below the surface of his belongings, and picking out anything that was hers.

"Do you want a drink? I've got tea, coffee, water.." His voice trailed off slightly as she looked at him, his train of thought slowing down and his throat tightening.

"I'm okay, thanks. Did you want to keep this?" She questioned, picking up a golden picture frame containing a photo of the first time Harry met her family. He was in the middle of the photo, a huge, dimpled smile on his face with her mum's arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, her sister on his left, and Gemma on his right, a similar smile adoring her own face.

Harry looked at it for a few seconds, his eyes squinting in acknowledgment. "Better not," he mumbled. "You know.."

"Right." She whispered, placing the picture frame into a nearby box and standing up, cursing at the way her knee loudly clicked.

Harry chuckled, curling his lips inwards slightly. "You still haven't gotten that checked out?" He laughed.

"Shut up! I'll get around to it!" She giggled, moving her leg slightly.

"Please, you could barely finish our hike when we were last in LA! I heard more whining about your leg than I heard of them actually walking!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" She laughed, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise that he would even mention a memory of them from when they were dating. "And if I recall correctly, I finished that hike faster than you did!"

Harry smiled to himself, his hands twitching to stay by his side as they laughed. "I actually have your hiking boots upstairs, if you still want them."

Her smile dropped slightly, and Harry's heart twinged. Why would he bring that up when they were having such a good time together?

"Right. Well, I'll get round to it. I'm gonna go get my stuff from the kitchen." She smiled weakly, grabbing a slightly smaller box and making her way through the house and to the kitchen.

The living room looked like it had before she had moved in, and Harry didn't like that. He didn't like the way the fireplace no longer had her trinkets on top of it, or how the coffee table was now left empty, bar from the TV remote and a candle she insisted Harry should buy.

"Shit." He whispered, his eyes darting from corner to corner, analysing the loss of her items, the loss of her.

"Harry, was the bee mug yours or mine?" He heard her call out.

"We both had one. Take either." He replied, his eyes never leaving the box on the floor, half full with photos.

"Okay, I grabbed the pink one because I think the purple one was yours. I think all that's left is the bedroom and the bathrooms." Y/N sighed, walking back into the living room and putting the box down next to the others.

Harry stayed silent, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the boxes that surrounded him.

"Harry?"

"Oh, right. Yeah," He cleared his throat and turned around. "Let's go do that."

The bathrooms were easy. Y/N grabbed a few shower products from the three with showers, and then the remaining skincare products, which she forgot to grab the night they broke up, from the ensuite.

The bedroom, however, was not.

Throughout the four year relationship, Harry and Y/N managed to muddle up just about every single item of clothing they owned. Graphic t-shirts once owned by Harry? Now Y/N wore them too. Hoodies Y/N had accumulated over the years? Harry owned them too. So, as Harry sat on the bed feeling as useless as ever whilst watching Y/N struggle to decipher whose clothing was whose, he felt the ache in his chest come back.

"I think most of the hoodies are yours, anyway." He called out after a good fifteen minutes of silence.

"Yeah?" She mumbled, throwing him a brief look over her shoulder before pulling a few more off of the hangers.

"Yeah," He whispered. "Well, everything on the right side is yours. Maybe some on the left too. I tried to organise them before you got here so it wouldn't be as hard."

That was a lie. He had spent the two hour notice he got from her muddling up as much of their things as possible so that she would spend more time with him.

"Thanks." She smiled.

"I washed a few of them too so you don't have to worry about that, either."

Another lie. In fact, he sprayed a couple with his cologne and put them over to his side of the wardrobe so they'd smell like him for longer.

"You really didn't have to, H."

"I know."

The silence came back, but this time, Harry's chest didn't hurt as much. Sure, his heart felt as heavy as ever, and he felt dizzy from how much pain was circulating his mind and body, but it wasn't as bad as before. That was a win in his eyes.

Y/N knew Harry. She knew him better than, as cliche as it is, she knew herself. She knew he had sprayed her clothes with his cologne, and that she hadn't put her moisturiser in with Harry's, or her favourite perfume under the sink with a significant amount missing. But who was she to judge? She had just broken up with him, and maybe if things had worked out differently, she would be sat on that bed with him, gossiping about some family drama and planning out future holidays together.

"Mum's thinking of adopting a new cat." Harry smiled.

"What- another one?"

"Well, that would be what the 'new cat' means." Harry laughed, crossing his right ankle over his left.

"Oh, piss off. How come?"

"Dunno. She called me this morning and told me about it. She said she couldn't wait for you two to discuss it over lunch."

"Really?" Y/N questioned, dropping the hoodie she was folding and turning around to face Harry. "Did you not tell her?"

Harry's face fell ever so slightly, and for a split second, she felt bad for bringing it up.

"Not yet. I think I'll let the joys of a possible new cat wear off before I tell her. Gemma knows though, and she's so fucking pissed." Harry breathed a laugh, tilting his head to the side slightly as he pictured the angry look on Gemma's face as he snatched her phone off of her to avoid an angry phone call to Y/N.

"Oh, I know. She called me on the drive here telling me I was making a mistake."

"What'd you say?"

"Not a lot, really. She's your family. I'm not going to use this as leverage to get her on my side." Y/N explained, and turned back around to continue folding and packing.

Harry stayed silent for a few more seconds before opening his mouth to speak. "Do you really think she'd even be on your side, even if you had told her it?" His tone was nothing short of bitter, a harsh contrast to the playful tone he was sporting prior.

Y/N didn't speak. Part of her felt like she didn't have the right to, and the other part was telling her to finish packing and leave.

The silence this time was worse. It was heavy, and painful, and now, her fault.

"Do you uhm-" She cleared her throat, "do you want this?" She asked, pulling out one of his t-shirts which she had been sleeping in since the first night she had ever slept over at his house. The collar had been stretched out, and shrunk too many times in the wash for Harry to even comfortably fit his biceps in, but she still felt as though she should ask.

Harry looked at her, taking a mental note at the way her eyebrows were furrowed, and the way her eyes were slightly hazy, and off focus. He felt his expression drop to mirror hers as he flickered between the t-shirt and her face as he tried to think of an answer.

"Harry just keep it, I need to get going." She mumbled, zipping up the duffle bag and standing up.

"Got somewhere to be?" He scoffed. Truth is, he didn't actually know where the anger was coming from. The breakup was civil for the most part, and both him and Y/N walked away happy with what they had left behind.

Y/N continued to stay quiet. The plan she had created in her head on the drive over didn't include even a hint of an argument, so she wasn't sure she'd have an idea of what to say if one did start.

The walk down the stairs was pure torture. It felt as though Harry scoffed with every step she took, and her heart was about to explode with embarrassment over how fast the situation turned on her.

"I'm gonna put this in the car. I'll be back for the rest." She whispered, barely looking Harry in the eyes before darting out of the door.

Harry's eyes welled up with tears, and no matter how much swallowing and sniffling he did, the ache in his throat didn't seem to budge. "Okay, I- fuck." he whispered, covering his face with his hands and turning around to walk back to the kitchen, taking advantage of the dark kitchen and using it to cover his face.

"Harry?" Y/N called out.

He cleared his throat and pulled open the fridge, putting his head inside and using it to hide the way he was frantically wiping at his eyes.

"In the kitchen."

The patter of her footsteps was soothing, in a way. Harry hated that he found comfort in her being back in their, his, house again for the first time in God knows how long.

"I finished all the boxes." She whispered.

Harry turned around to face her. Her eyes were red and puffy, and the way that her lower lip was slightly quivering made him wish that their situation was different, and that he was still allowed to hug her, and tell her she was okay, and that he was there for her.

He nodded. He wasn't quite sure what to say in this situation. He had had serious relationships before, both of them had, but this was the only one that made Harry feel seen, and understood, and like he had really found the one.

The sun had set fully by now, and the only light in the room was the open fridge and the faint glow from the moon.

"Am I ever going to find out the real reason why you broke up with me? Or are you going to keep it to yourself for a year and then call me up and tell me on a random Tuesday? Because, Y/N, if we really were ‘growing apart’, don't you think I would have felt it too?" Harry spat at her, watching the way her eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth opened slightly to defend herself.

"Oh, please, Harry! Don't act like you're the victim in this!" She yelled back.

"What, and you are?"

"No! Neither of us are! Just because I'm the one who insinuated this doesn't mean the breakup itself wasn't mutual! Harry, how am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with someone when I can't even spend right now with them?"

Harry knew it was coming. Her reason for the breakup was that they were growing apart, arguing all the time, and were no longer the same people they were when they began dating all those years ago. Harry's reasoning for the breakup was, well, nothing. He didn't have a reason. If he had it his way, they'd be cuddled up in bed right now, Y/N showing him a video of someone falling over, and him searching Netflix for a movie for them to watch. But that’s the issue - you can’t force someone to be in a relationship that they so clearly don’t want to be in.

"Why couldn't you have figured this out before I planned out my whole life based on you being in it?" Harry muttered, staring at his feet as his eyes filled up with the tears he previously had tried to shun away.

The fridge began to beep before Y/N could answer, and, as painful as it was, she used that as her cue to leave.

"Okay, Harry, I really need to go. I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry." Y/N said, wrapping her arms around her lower stomach and trying to control her rapid breathing.

She hesitated before leaving, and turned her head over her shoulder to look back at him. His face was emotionless, bar from the tears dripping down his cheeks, and his eyes were unfocused, staring at the kitchen floor. The fridge was still beeping, and Y/N knew that despite it annoying him, Harry only kept it going because it was better than the silence. The silence was the real killer.

"Call me if you ever need anything, okay?" She took a deep breath. "I love you, Harry. I'm sorry."

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #sabsberries

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kelseytheballerina · 2 years ago

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Reflections on building a better me

Exercise is not optional. Mental satisfaction from completing yet another workout cannot be overstated. Physical satisfaction from feeling good and enjoying your body in clothes, the mirror, and photos cannot be overstated. Stop messing around, stop info hoarding, go exercise. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day.

Looking your best depending on circumstances (ie, casual, dressy, bedtime, etc) is not optional. External confidence from taking care of your appearance top to bottom and loving what you see in the mirror is highly valuable.

You feel better when you eat better. You’re proud of yourself when you eat better.

Hobbies, hobbies, hobbies. Do you feel embarrassed when someone asks what you do all day and you can’t come up with an honest answer that doesn’t make you sound like a loser with no life? You need hobbies. Some that are outdoors, some that are indoors. Some that are taxing, some that are relaxing. You will enjoy life more, become a more well-rounded individual, and have positive ways to spend your time rather than racking up more hours on your phone. Get some hobbies. Plural.

Procrastination and laziness should disgust you. You shouldn’t be able to relate. You should strive to be above that. You like yourself better when you complete your tasks and get things done in a timely manner. You’re proud of yourself when you’re on a roll and have a productive streak. You’re impressed by productive people and no one likes a lazy bum.

Decide what you want from life and pursue it ruthlessly. Don’t take advice from people who don’t have the life you want, unless they were once on your desired path and fell off. Even then, you listen to them when they say what NOT to do (learning from their mistakes) but clearly they don’t know what TO do bc they didn’t make it to the finish line. Take “do this” advice from people who crossed the finish line and have what you want. You’ll find that the amount of input that is actually valuable to you has suddenly dwindled. Good. Less chatter in your ears.

Get yourself in order before you go around critiquing everyone else. Get YOUR face in order. Get YOUR body right. Get YOUR money up. Get YOUR style in order. Get YOUR relationship together.

Stop coming to everyone for validation like a toddler. Validate yourself. Do you like it? Okay then. Are you over it? Okay then. Stop being so weak. Stand tall, lead yourself. Stop being such a follower.

Be a good person. Help your family, lend a hand to strangers, give back, say sorry, do things for loved ones just because, show affection, work things out, watch your mouth, speak respectfully, remember that the world owes you nothing. Stop being an insufferable freak.

You can’t change anyone but yourself. Get yourself in order and be a good role model. That’s all you can do. Give people advice when they want it and then go about your business. Get yourself in order. Get yourself in order.

Outrage content is the lowest form of entertainment. Engage in things that make you happy or educate you. Doom scrolling only leads to doom. Don’t like this person? Don’t click on their articles or videos. Unfollow and block. Don’t like these people? Leave their spaces. You don’t have to be outraged every day.

Always keep your word to yourself. Make a plan, stick to the plan, always deliver. If you can’t be reliable for yourself then who can you be reliable for?

#yours truly ♡

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flwrior · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDAYDREAM

ㅤㅤ ❀﹑𝖦𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂-𝗄𝗂-𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌

엔하이픈 OT7 ୨୧ interrupting you with a kiss , fem reader | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 kissing, skinship, slightly suggestive, petnames ﹑ （taglist）

✉️ ,, the joy of online shopping 🔛🔝

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

It was definitely not his fault that he stopped listening to you during your impromptu physics lesson. Zoning out on your round lips tempting him to pull you into a kiss, he figured there would be a better moment to hear about physics. Seemingly unbothered by his lack of concentration, you droned on about the quantum entanglement and the scientific romance behind it. “And the fact that both of them are connected together but so far apart proves how deep real love should be.” You continued, until you abruptly stopped, unable to continue because of his lips crashing against yours. “Shut up, you nerd.” He mumbled, deepening the kiss by placing his hand on your cheek.

𝐉𝐀𝐘

“I was already telling him that he would get in detention if he did that but he didn’t listen to me.” You complained, turning to look at your boyfriend who nodded earnestly to your anger. He had invited you to dinner at his house for an overdue date after his endless schedule but ended up listening to your complaints. After losing focus for a few more minutes, he watched your red lips pout in irritation while speaking and found a better way to interrupt you. “And I ended up stuck in that room with a bunch of delinquents who probably got in for actual things.” Breaking off the rest of your sentence, you were silenced by his soft lips pressing into yours. “You talk too much.”

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

Flinching at your irritated voice yelling in his ears, he listened as you droned on about how he should stop distracting you during class. “A person’s lips should not be that attractive.” He mumbled, under the noise. Indifferent to his words, you continued. “I get that you’re top student and everything comes naturally to you, but it would really benefit me if you shut up when I’m trying to-” Interrupting your sentence, he cut off your air flow by pressing his lips against yours and making you move to the rhythm of his lips. “Was just trying to get your attention, baby.” He spoke against your lips, grinning in the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

Tutoring a playboy was not a part of your schedule until the principal himself persuaded you to do it as if you had a choice. Having the habit of over explaining, you rambled on, doing your best to explain each section thoroughly. Losing focus on the lesson, he stared at your pink-tinted lips and the way you pursed them together when trying to finish an equation. Turning his attention to the silver glasses resting on your nose bridge, he decided to act on impulse. “To answer this equation, you need to take your variable and move it here.” You explained, suddenly cut off by your lips connecting with his soft ones. In between the kiss, he tugged the glasses off your nose and rested them on the desk. Pulling away to look at his work, he grinned triumphantly. “You look better this way.”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

Patting light fingers on your skin, your boyfriend attempted to put on your lip gloss like you asked him to, finding it difficult to do so because of your eagerness to chat. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.” You chirped through puckered lips. Listening to your excited chatter, he struggled to make the wand meet your lips. Just barely swiping the lip product on your lips, he sighed in exasperation at your busy lips. “I hoped it wouldn’t turn out like that but you had so many concerts, so I couldn’t see you.” Shock laced your features, barely processing his lips pressing against yours. Melting into it nonetheless, you relished the nostalgic feeling. “Stop talking so I can do your lip gloss.” He spoke.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

Focusing on the project wasn’t an option for him when you were there. Listening to you correct his every move, he spaced out on your lips, watching how you gently bit down on them when trying to perfect your work. “Don’t click that, click this.” You demonstrated on your computer, doing it too fast for him to follow. “Why aren’t you focusing?” You began formulating your other sentence before his lips crashed into yours, moving slowly and then speeding up. Pulling a few inches away from you, he spoke in a hushed manner. “You talk too much.”

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

“Good job getting us in detention for the fifth time this week.” You spoke, grumbling into your chair. The boy sitting in front of you turned around and met you with his usual cocky grin, resting his arms on your desk. “And why do all your stupid missions have to include my involvement?” You complained, mourning on behalf of your perfect attendance that had been destroyed since you decided to befriend him. “I already told you that feeding the cats could be done after school and that trying to jump over the school gate wouldn’t work.” Before you could start your next sentence, you felt his lips press against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth. Pushing his chair closer to yours with his legs, he muttered against your lips, “Just shut up.”

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sprintingowl · 4 months ago

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Deadball

Deadball Second Edition is a platinum bestseller on DrivethruRPG. This means it's in the top 2% of all products on the site. Its back cover has an endorsement from Sports Illustrated Kids.

It's also not an rpg I'd heard about until I discovered all of these facts one after another.

I was raised in a profoundly anti-sports household. My father would say stuff like "sports is for people who can't think" and "there's no point in exercising, everything in your body goes away eventually." So I didn't learn really any of the rules of the more popular American sports until I was in my mid twenties, and I've been to two ballgames in my life. I appreciate the enthusiasm that people have for sports, but it's in the same way that I appreciate anyone talking about their specific fandom.

One of the things that struck me reading Deadball was its sense of reverence for the sport. Its language isn't flowery. It's plain and technical and smart. But its love for baseball radiates off of the pages. Not like a blind adoration. But like when a dog sits with you on the porch.

For folks familiar with indie rpgs, there's a tone throughout the book that feels OSR. Deadball doesn't claim to be a precise simulation or a baseball wargame or anything like that---instead it lays out a bunch of rules and then encourages you to treat them like a recipe, adjusting to your taste. And it does this *while* being a detailed simulation that skirts the line of wargaming, which is an extremely OSR thing to do.

For folks not familiar with baseball, Deadball starts off assuming you know nothing and it explains the core rules of the sport before trying to pin dice and mechanics onto anything. It also explains baseball notation (which I was not able to decipher) and it uses this notation to track a play-by-play report of each game. Following this is an example of play and---in a move I think more rpgs should steal from---it has you play out a few rounds of this example of play. Again, this is all before it's really had a section explaining its rules.

In terms of characters and stats, Deadball is a detailed game. You can play modern or early 1900s baseball, and players can be of any gender on the same team, so there's a sort of alt history flavor to the whole experience, but there's also an intricate dice roll for every at bat and a full list of complex baseball feats that any character can have alongside their normal baseball stats. Plus there's a full table for oddities (things not normally covered by the rules of baseball, such as a raccoon straying onto the field and attacking a pitcher,) and a whole fatigue system for pitchers that contributes a strong sense of momentum to the game.

Deadball is also as much about franchises as it is about individual games, and you can also scout players, trade players, track injuries, track aging, appoint managers of different temperaments, rest pitchers in between games, etc.

For fans of specific athletes, Deadball includes rules for creating players, for playing in different eras, for adapting historical greats into one massively achronological superteam, and for playing through two different campaigns---one in a 2020s that wasn't and one in the 1910s.

There's also thankfully a simplified single roll you can use to abstract an entire game, allowing you to speed through seasons and potentially take a franchise far into the future. Finances and concession sales and things like that aren't tracked, but Deadball has already had a few expansions and a second edition, so this might be its next frontier.

Overall, my takeaway from Deadball is that it's a heck of a game. It's a remarkably detailed single or multiplayer simulation that I think might work really well for play-by-post (you could get a few friends to form a league and have a whole discord about it,) and it could certainly be used to generate some Blaseball if you start tweaking the rules as you play and never stop.

It's also an interesting read from a purely rpg design perspective. Deadball recognizes that its rules have the potential to be a little overbearing and so it puts in lots of little checks against that. It also keeps its more complex systems from sprawling out of control by trying to pack as much information as possible into a single dice roll.

For someone like me who has zero background in baseball, I don't think I'd properly play Deadball unless I had a bunch of friends who were into it and I could ride along with that enthusiasm. However as a designer I like the book a lot, and I'm putting it on my shelf of rpgs that have been formative for me, alongside Into The Odd, Monsterhearts, Mausritter, and Transit.

#ttrpg #ttrpg homebrew #ttrpgs #ttrpg design #indie ttrpgs #rpg #tabletop #indie ttrpg #dnd #rpgs #baseball #fantasy baseball #deadball

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batboyblog · 6 months ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #28

July 19-26 2024

The EPA announced the award of $4.3 billion in Climate Pollution Reduction Grants. The grants support community-driven solutions to fight climate change, and accelerate America’s clean energy transition. The grants will go to 25 projects across 30 states, and one tribal community. When combined the projects will reduce greenhouse gas pollution by as much as 971 million metric tons of CO2, roughly the output of 5 million American homes over 25 years. Major projects include $396 million for Pennsylvania’s Department of Environmental Protection as it tries to curb greenhouse gas emissions from industrial production, and $500 million for transportation and freight decarbonization at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced a plan to phase out the federal government's use of single use plastics. The plan calls for the federal government to stop using single use plastics in food service operations, events, and packaging by 2027, and from all federal operations by 2035. The US government is the single largest employer in the country and the world’s largest purchaser of goods and services. Its move away from plastics will redefine the global market.

The White House hosted a summit on super pollutants with the goals of better measuring them and dramatically reducing them. Roughly half of today's climate change is caused by so called super pollutants, methane, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), and nitrous oxide (N2O). Public-private partnerships between NOAA and United Airlines, The State Department and NASA, and the non-profit Carbon Mapper Coalition will all help collect important data on these pollutants. While private firms announced with the White House plans that by early next year will reduce overall U.S. industrial emissions of nitrous oxide by over 50% from 2020 numbers. The summit also highlighted the EPA's new rule to reduce methane from oil and gas by 80%.

The EPA announced $325 million in grants for climate justice. The Community Change Grants Program, powered by President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act will ultimately bring $2 billion dollars to disadvantaged communities and help them combat climate change. Some of the projects funded in this first round of grant were: $20 million for Midwest Tribal Energy Resources Association, which will help weatherize and energy efficiency upgrade homes for 35 tribes in Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, $14 million to install onsite wastewater treatment systems throughout 17 Black Belt counties in Alabama, and $14 million to urban forestry, expanding tree canopy in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.

The Department of Interior approved 3 new solar projects on public land. The 3 projects, two in Nevada and one in Arizona, once finished could generate enough to power 2 million homes. This comes on top of DoI already having beaten its goal of 25 gigawatts of clean energy projects by the end of 2025, in April 2024. This is all part of President Biden’s goal of creating a carbon pollution-free power sector by 2035.

Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen pledged $667 million to global Pandemic Fund. The fund set up in 2022 seeks to support Pandemic prevention, and readiness in low income nations who can't do it on their own. At the G20 meeting Yellen pushed other nations of the 20 largest economies to double their pledges to the $2 billion dollar fund. Yellen highlighted the importance of the fund by saying "President Biden and I believe that a fully-resourced Pandemic Fund will enable us to better prevent, prepare for, and respond to pandemics – protecting Americans and people around the world from the devastating human and economic costs of infectious disease threats,"

The Departments of the Interior and Commerce today announced a $240 million investment in tribal fisheries in the Pacific Northwest. This is in line with an Executive Order President Biden signed in 2023 during the White House Tribal Nations Summit to mpower Tribal sovereignty and self-determination. An initial $54 million for hatchery maintenance and modernization will be made available for 27 tribes in Alaska, Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. The rest will be invested in longer term fishery projects in the coming years.

The IRS announced that thanks to funding from President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, it'll be able to digitize much of its operations. This means tax payers will be able to retrieve all their tax related information from one source, including Wage & Income, Account, Record of Account, and Return transcripts, using on-line Individual Online Account.

The IRS also announced that New Jersey will be joining the direct file program in 2025. The direct file program ran as a pilot in 12 states in 2024, allowing tax-payers in those states to file simple tax returns using a free online filing tool directly with the IRS. In 2024 140,000 Americans were able to file this way, they collectively saved $5.6 million in tax preparation fees, claiming $90 million in returns. The average American spends $270 and 13 hours filing their taxes. More than a million people in New Jersey alone will qualify for direct file next year. Oregon opted to join last month. Republicans in Congress lead by Congressmen Adrian Smith of Nebraska and Chuck Edwards of North Carolina have put forward legislation to do away with direct file.

Bonus: American law enforcement arrested co-founder of the Sinaloa Cartel, Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada. El Mayo co-founded the cartel in the 1980s along side Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán. Since El Chapo's incarceration in the United States in 2019, El Mayo has been sole head of the Sinaloa Cartel. Authorities also arrested El Chapo's son, Joaquin Guzman Lopez. The Sinaloa Cartel has been a major player in the cross border drug trade, and has often used extreme violence to further their aims.

#Joe Biden #Thanks Biden #kamala harris #us politics #american politics #politics #climate change #climate crisis #climate action #tribal rights #IRS #taxes #tax reform #El Chapo

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