#whatever is happening with red dwarf

[theniftycat]

The blessing and the curse of being into British TV.

Your fave will be in some projects that are heaven sent, tailor made to suit your tastes.

It will be one season of six episodes 20 minutes each.

[egglain-archive]

North

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Sukuna x Uraume Content: post-canon (sukuna-specific ending spoilers), true form sukuna, hunter/prey, blindfolds, amab vessel uraume, praise, dacryphilia, overstim, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, dry orgasms, bath (outdooor), anal (fingering, penetration), oral (uraume receiving), rimming, explicit consent, belly bulge, sukuna is whipppeddddd Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Sukuna swore he was done with this life.... but if he had to do it all over again, he’d choose love.

(A reunion, a misunderstanding, and a long apology.) (A very long, and very sexy, apology.)

@dreamlandcreations' Kinktober 2024 day 5: hunter/prey - blindfold - forced orgasm

Sukuna swore he was done with this life.

He met his end.

He chose his end, in fact. Walked across the thin line between life and death with his head held high, his large hand dwarfing Uraume’s. For the first time in a long time, he had been in control—not that the King of Curses was ever out of control, per se—but he had been given the ability to choose.

He didn’t choose to be reawakened. Didn’t choose to be called-upon, a pawn in a twisted game of the modern age. A tool. A weapon. He didn’t choose to have his life taken again.

But he came to accept it. He chose to accept it.

He chose to never have to deal with it again; to accept his reality, to move forward knowing if given another shot, he’d throw it all away.

Do things differently.

So why was he—?

The world was dark, but it had been dark for an imperceptibly long time. He was used to it, by now—it welcomed him, flooded the recesses of his mind with something akin to warmth. He didn’t need to think here. Didn’t need to be. It consumed him, made him small—meaningless. For the once King of Curses, for the abandoned boy, it was an escape. A haven. A break from the rush of survival, from the hierarchy of needs and wants and power. The darkness was numbing, all-consuming, quiet.

But this was not right.

The thrum of faint staccato—more felt than heard—fast and off-beat. The world was dark, but he was distinctly alive. His heart—something foreign in this infinite void—beat somewhere below.

Syrupy heat flooded through him, slow-moving through the body he was becoming increasingly aware of. This wasn’t supposed to happen—nothing ever happened in the dark. Much less whatever this was.

Once again, he toed the line. But he had already made his decision; if he had to do it all over again… he’d choose love.

Anger fizzled up inside, painting the darkness a repugnant red.

“Lord Sukuna.”

***

“You better start running.”

The words were slow, tentative as if slurring off an unpracticed tongue. But that timbre.

Heat lapped at Uraume’s frigid heart.

Sleep-tousled tresses fanned across the tatami. The vessel—no, Sukuna—lay blindfolded on the floor, hempen rope binding his hands and feet together from where Uraume had wrangled the body into submission.

Strong arms—now adorned with inked bands— tugged against the rope. A growl of dissatisfaction rumbled through him, rippling across the floor to shoot through Uraume’s bones.

They reached out a tender hand, slender fingers moving to set Sukuna free. “My apologies, my Lord—here, let me untie—”

Before Uraume could even process, they were being wrangled to the floor. Sukuna’s weight, warm and firm, flattened and caged them. Heaving breaths heated their right cheek—the opposite stung where it was pressed into the tatami. Big hands, veiny and thick, clenched into fists mere inches away from their head.

“I’m not warning you again.” Uraume felt more than heard the words, deep and rumbling from where Sukuna’s chest pressed into their back. A blindfolded face, contorted in rage, dropped to mouth against their ear. “Run.”

There was one rule in serving the King of Curses: obey—especially if he was not in a pleasant mood. The gritting of canines and clenching of molars did not spell a pretty picture. Wiggling out from under Sukuna, Uraume tripped on the hem of their ill-fitted kimono as they struggled to get their footing. No matter, they needed to get out.

As they struggled to open the shoji, the tatami creaked with the weight of their master awakening. Rising to take his revenge. Rising to hunt his prey.

Something clicked in Uraume, dark and ugly pulsing through their veins—something they hadn’t felt in over a thousand years.

Fear.

Between fight, flight, and freeze, running was the smartest—no, the only—option. So Uraume let their feet guide them through the twisted hallways of the estate, through the courtyard, and past the front gates. A slow, heavy presence was always just behind. Something about it was leisurely—assured. But Uraume wouldn’t dare stop. The aura was unlike anything they had felt from their master in over a thousand years. Something about it was hungry. Primal. Itching for something Uraume was scared to identify. So they let their feet carry them far away. Far away from the courtyard, the gardens, the home they had spent the last few years preparing for this very moment.

For Sukuna’s return.

By sunset, they were lost among the trees, damp moss seeping through their shitōzu and chilling their soles. Trees blurred together, heavy thunderheads lapping against the early evening fog. The smell of rain and earth filled their lungs, soothing the searing behind their ribs. They slipped on rocks and tripped over roots but did not dare stop until their body could no longer endure.

As darkness engulfed the forest, Uraume fell to their knees. They had shut everything off—all thoughts, reason, and navigation—and let their feet guide them far away. Now, hands buried in damp soil and shaky knees muddied, the realization set in.

They were alone.

And they were lost.

Heat flooded Uraume’s cheeks, fat tears welling behind tired eyelids. Squeezing their eyes shut, head hung, everything came undone.

Did Sukuna not wish to be reawakened?

Was the vessel not to his liking?

Had he forgotten their promise? Their vision for a better life? The path they forged, north, together?

Fingernails tore into roots. Tears dripped onto the backs of shaky hands. Their lungs were imploding in their chest, stomach heaving with each ragged, rapid breath.

Could they go back?

Would Sukuna be forgiving?

Was this their punishment?

A snap.

Uraume turned to face it.

Their world fell to black.

A fat knot tied the blindfold tight around their head, squeezing against their temples and digging into their eyes.

Hot breath ghosted over the side of their face, then their neck.

“Found you.”

Uraume’s chest squeezed—a mix of relief and dread coiling into uncertainties in their gut.

Big hands were guiding their face upwards, arching their back into an impossible angle.

“What do you want from me? Since you ran so well, I’ll allow you to speak.”

“M-My Lord… I don’t want anything from you.”

A hum of disbelief rumbled into Uraume’s spine from where their hunter—Sukuna—was pressed into them.

“Is that so? Why summon me then, mortal?”

Uraume didn’t know how to answer.

Because I always do.

Because that’s what I’m here for.

Because I’ve been waiting for you.

“To start our new life, my Lord… together.” The words tumbled out, timid and too-quiet.

A beat.

The thick fingers glided from their jaw down to their throat, pressing right up against their fluttering pulse.

“And, enlighten me… who do you think you are?”

“Your chef, my Lord… Uraume.” It was barely a whisper.

Taut muscles curved into Uraume’s back, and their spine went rigid. They didn’t dare move, they didn’t dare breathe.

An exhale fanned warmth against the junction of their neck and shoulder. Their pulse rang loud in their ears, stuttering as the digits dug into main arteries. Uraume could feel Sukuna’s eyes against their skin, tracing the pale blue veins running right beneath the surface. Uraume had never felt so small—so helpless.

“Uraume.”

The growl spread heat through their gut like wildfire, and the subsequent loosening of Sukuna’s fingers sent blood pumping to their head in a dizzying rush. Hours of running, the lack of food and oxygen, and the fear were getting to them—they didn’t realize they were shaking until they were being crowded into big arms, pressed against a warm chest.

“Uraume.”

It was different; soft, tentative this time. Uraume couldn’t stand it.

A gentle thumb brushed against their cheek, ushering away a tear they hadn’t realized they shed. Wet lashes rubbed against the abrasive material of the blindfold, and a large hand made gentle work of untying the damn thing. As the fabric fell away, Uraume bowed their head—subservient and professional as always, if not for the pathetic way they were being held.

Two gentle fingers lifted their chin slowly, four red eyes scanning their face with an emotion Uraume couldn’t read.

“You look… different.”

Something about the way Sukuna’s tone had changed—the way he was talking so casually as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the day hunting them for sport—lifted a weight Uraume didn’t know they were carrying. They couldn’t help but smile a little.

“As do you, my Lord.”

“I… didn’t know it was you. Didn’t sound like you. And—I couldn’t see.”

Sukuna held up the strip of fabric—the makeshift blindfold—with a half-chuckle. Uraume tried to tamp down the warmth threatening to spread through their chest.

“My apologies, my Lord—it was to subdue your vessel for the ritual.”

“Meticulous as always,” Sukuna whispered.

He brushed his thumb across the peak of their cheekbone, two red eyes trained on the movement while the other set lay fixed on theirs. He said nothing at all, yet everything at once. It had been their language for centuries, these gazes—get me out of this meeting, kill this guy, do it now… thank you, you did well, I care about you.

This look—the way his brow was furrowed ever so slightly, the way his eyes were tracing the invisible outline of the now-removed blindfold—it was I’m sorry.

The dam burst, heat flooding to their face. Uraume’s smile widened.

“For you, my Lord.”

“For us.”

Big arms hoisted them off the ground, and they couldn’t help but hold onto the collar of Sukuna’s sokutai.

Sukuna let them.

He’d let them do anything.

As the two-faced spectre walked them back to the estate, Uraume fell asleep.

***

Sukuna woke up pissed.

Aside from the restraints and the blindfold, he felt shackled—always a cog in a machine he didn’t care for.

He had promised Uraume a second chance. A do-over.

So when he was being brought back to life by some brat, Uraume nowhere in sight (or rather, earshot), he was ready to tear them to shreds. He could’ve too. He struggled with the restraints before his second set of arms came in—his captor was no amateur at tying knots—but he would’ve torn them apart with his mouth if he had to. Flesh between his teeth, bone against canines—it was where he thrived.

But he wasn’t that man anymore.

He had gotten soft.

They made him soft.

So, he let the brat have a head-start.

He had been so much kinder to his captor than he had ever been to anyone (except for his chef); yet, when he found out he had done this all to Uraume, he couldn’t quite suppress the foreign bile rising in his throat. Uraume. Sweet Uraume, who had waited for him… who had been alive alone, preparing for his arrival. Uraume who hadn’t just promised but who gave him exactly what he wanted, as they always had.

A second chance.

A second chance for them.

What was this feeling?

More than anger, beyond sadness… heavy.

He wanted to punish himself. He wanted to make Uraume punish him. He wanted to fall to their feet.

Looking at their frail frame, dwarfed by his arms, he made a pact then to never go back.

He was done with this life.

He met his end.

He was grateful for it—now, it was time to start anew.

***

Uraume awoke to rustling.

Gently laid on a wooden bench, they could only see Sukuna’s back as he disrobed. Moonlight and the warm glow of the torches bathed rippling muscle in golden light. The king folded his robes with precise care, and Uraume filled with pride.

They sat up slowly, the old wood creaking below them. Sukuna turned at the sound and his sharp features softened at the sight. He brought his folded robes over, placing them on the bench next to Uraume before kneeling before them. His hands hovered above the sash of their kimono, and the way he was looking up at them made Uraume’s heart hammer in their chest.

“You may.”

Sukuna was careful with it—despite being muddied and too-large on their frame, he pried the kimono off with gentle fingers, letting it pool around their waist on the bench.

Four red eyes roamed the expanse of pale chest, drinking in every new feature of Uraume’s new vessel—the sharp jut of their shoulders, the supple flesh of their lower stomach, the scar on their left hip. Calloused fingertips hovered just above their hipbone, nose bridge scrunching pensively.

Uraume watched as Sukuna bowed his head, warm lips brushing along the raised silvered skin. The whispered touch sent chills through their legs and up their chest, thighs trembling involuntarily. Sukuna stilled the motion with a large hand, pinning their left leg down with a soft hum.

“Smell different, too.”

“My apologies, my Lord.” The words were half-hearted, head reeling.

“It’s no matter.” Sukuna rose to his feet, holding out a large hand—one of four—to help them up.

Uraume took it gently, hoping Sukuna didn’t feel the tremor running through them at the contact. Red eyes raked over their newly nude frame, running from the freshly-kissed flesh down to the tips of their toes. A low hum cut through the quiet, Sukuna’s gaze transfixed right below their navel.

Without a word, they were being pulled forward, large strides guiding Uraume through the winding starlit path. Steam from a large bath curled around stone, golden in the dim torchlight. With a squeeze of their clasped hands, Sukuna wasted no time in entering, wading to the far end to make himself comfortable. In the low light, there was no mistaking it—Sukuna Ryomen was a God among mortals, chiseled in the image of self-perfection. Two large arms folded over his tattooed chest while the other set splayed along the stone edge of the bath, the portrait of leisure.

“Coming? You can stare at me better from here.” White canines glinted.

Uraume flushed, stepping tentatively into the hot water with a bowed head. It wasn’t easy to see their footing in the moonlight, but Sukuna was a patient man—when it came to them. He helped them over with a hand, tsk-ing when they moved to take a seat next to him. Sukuna pulled Uraume in by their arm, crowding them onto strong thighs.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Uraume’s face flushed—the steam, the heat of the water, and the intensity of Sukuna’s gaze had their heart slamming around behind their ribs.

“My apologies, my Lord.”

“I’m not your master, ‘raume.”

Uraume swallowed hard. The way Sukuna was looking down at them—the softness in his eyes—it was disarming.

“My apologies… Sukuna.”

A toothy grin had their heart beating off-kilter. The man from earlier, and the man before them now, could not be consolidated in their mind. And yet, it was him. It had always been him.

“Let me care for you.”

“Really, you don’t need to—”

“Hush. I’ve already decided.”

A beat.

“Do you trust me, Uraume?”

“With my life, m—” they swallowed. “Sukuna.”

“Good. I’m going to touch you now.”

His eyes bore into theirs, a large hand moving to hover over their cheek.

“Uraume. Tell me you understood.”

“Yes—I…” fuck they were winded already. Stupid fucking bath. “I understand. I would like that.”

“Good.”

His palm was hot and calloused, dwarfing their head as his fingertips kissed their temples. His palm dragged down across their cheek, long thick fingers once again guiding their face up, up, up—

Sukuna’s steady breaths ghosted over their upper lip.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” The words were quiet. Tentative. An offer, more than a statement, something fledgling and pure.

“I would like that too.”

His lips were soft. Warm and large, they brushed feather-light as if fearful that any more would break them. Uraume’s eyes fluttered shut, pressing in tentatively, smaller hands coming up to cup the jaw of the man they had loved for centuries. Sukuna’s pulse beneath their fingertips was stuttering, and Uraume felt his Adam’s apple dip as his lips parted at the contact. They took the opportunity to press against him further, to spur him on—they weren’t fragile. They had been waiting for this—whatever this was. They wanted it so bad it hurt.

Two big hands flew to just under Uraume’s armpits, holding them closer as fingertips skimmed down soft sides. Their breath hitched, and Sukuna wasted no time in parting their lips further. A warm forked tongue lapped at the seams of their mouth, teasing their lower front teeth before plunging in. Uraume suckled it in, humming softly as Sukuna forced their jaw open.

He wasted no time in mapping the roof of their mouth, tentatively pressing against the back of their tongue. Those big hands pulled Uraume closer, grabbing at the fat of their ass to pull them flush to his chest.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

A little whine escaped their throat.

“Don’t do that.” Sukuna mumbled into their lips. “I’ll get hard.”

Uraume’s heart hammered in their chest. It was impossibly hot now—the water, the heat radiating off Sukuna, and the blood rushing southward was dizzying.

Uraume wanted to be sexy—to say something sexy, something assured, something to make Sukuna’s head spin like theirs. But the words died on their tongue.

“That’s okay.”

“No.” Sukuna’s gaze was firm, cutting through the haze threatening to swallow them. Grounding them. “I’m making it up to you.”

Big hands forced open slim thighs underwater. A fat tongue—one Uraume didn’t notice until now—licked a stripe from their belly button down the trail of short white hair. Sukuna pressed his mouth to theirs, muffling their gasps as his stomach mouth made contact with Uraume’s stiffening cock. Uraume bit down on Sukuna’s lower lip to stifle a groan as the tip of his fat lower tongue teased at their sensitive slit.

Sukuna groaned, head dropping to their shoulder. “Fuck. Taste so fucking good.”

They bucked forward involuntarily, those big hands holding them there as the lower mouth sucked Uraume in. A coil wound tight in their gut as Sukuna enveloped them underwater, soft suction and heat drawing out beads of salty precum. Uraume gasped, nails scratching down Sukuna’s neck to find purchase in his fat pecs.

Their stomach tensed. Those hands were crowding them forward again, guiding them back and forth in languid thrusts. They were being used like a toy, and all they could do was sit there and let Sukuna play with them. Uraume’s head lolled back, the pale column of throat inviting Sukuna’s nose and lips to their pulse. Sukuna licked a stripe from shoulder to jawline as Uraume shakily fucked his lower mouth.

“That’s it… ride my tongue, darling.”

The words rolled off those sinful lips so easily, reverberating through Uraume’s throat and jolting pleasure straight to their dick. They were helpless, like this—surrounded. Sukuna’s lips pressed sloppy kisses to their jaw, twin cocks stirring beneath the fat of Uraume’s ass. Their hips were moving on their own now, snapping shallowly into the warm mouth awaiting them underwater. Precum was flowing out of them, coaxed out by the warm, waiting tongue.

“Can’t—” It was a broken thing, pathetic and half-gasped.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Rough hands spanned the meat of their ass, massaging it gently as they pressed Uraume close. Pubic bone met abdomen, and Uraume saw stars. Their cock hit the back of a throat, and it swallowed. Their eyes squeezed shut; stars danced behind their eyelids as release washed through them, cock jumping weakly as that godforsaken mouth milked them dry.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped against their jaw, pupils blown.

He swallowed down their release, fat tongue stroking their sensitive cock. Uraume winced, moving to pull out, but large hands pinned them in place.

“Shh. I’m not done with you yet.”

***

“’kuna…”

They were so beautiful, like this—spread out on their tummy, cheek pressed into the now-rumpled sheets with their ass propped up for him.

He had wrung them dry in the baths, washed their skin reverently, and gotten them dirty all over again. He carried Uraume in, cum cooling on their skin, just to lick it off in bed before having them spill all over themselves once more.

He had explored their body for hours—birds chirped outside, but he didn’t have a care in the world. There was no place he’d rather be than here, three fingers and a tongue deep in his one and only.

They were shaking, drooling all over his—their—bed, a thin string of clear precum connecting their throbbing cock to the sheets.

Sukuna was so hard it hurt.

He sucked at the puffy rim of Uraume’s ass, pink and twitching as he curled his thick fingers to press against their sensitive spot once more.

Uraume bit at the sheets, gurgling as their hips pressed back into his face and hand.

“So needy,” Sukuna drawled, as if he hadn’t been edging himself for the better part of an hour now. His cocks were red and angry from where he was grinding them against the sheets.

“Can’t anymore—”

“One more, darling.”

“’kuna—”

A whine.

A plea.

Sukuna’s cocks twitched, and he felt himself getting close again. He reached one of his hands down—the one that wasn’t holding Uraume open or fucking into their little hole—to squeeze at his base.

Don’t cum.

Don’t cum.

Fuck.

He thrusted against the sheets shakily, biting into Uraume’s thigh to stifle a whimper.

They keened, tight hole fluttering around his thick, spit-coated digits.

Fuck they’d feel so good.

But this was about Uraume, not him.

He had four fists and an imagination. He could live.

Yet, the way they were crying out for him undeniably had his heart squeezing and his cocks twitching. He extracted his fingers gingerly, relishing in the wet drag of each one against their tight rim. Uraume whined, clenching around nothing, as they shifted their hips back with ragged breaths.

“’kuna…”

Sukuna shifted up to press a reassuring kiss to their shoulder, fat cock heads nudging against their gaping hole and perineum. He hissed out as Uraume rocked back into the feeling, reaching down to slide his cocks between the mounds of their ass instead.

“Shh… I’m here. What’s wrong?”

He punctuated his sentences with soft kisses to the shell of their ear, brushing back pale bangs to get a good look at them. Pale lashes clumped together wetly, fat tears rolling down pale cheeks as bleary eyes met his.

His heart squeezed.

Precum dribbled onto Uraume’s lower back.

“I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise.”

Uraume hiccupped, nodding dumbly as they sniffled back tears. Reaching a shaky hand back, slender fingers spread their ass open.

“You too��� ‘kuna.”

Sukuna was going to ruin them.

He wanted to split them open.

Wanted to brand their insides with his cum.

Wanted to pull their hair back and mount them properly, kiss the deepest parts of their body, mold them to his shape.

But he needed to keep a level head.

“Are you sure?”

Uraume laughed wetly, and Sukuna cursed the Gods for not making him an artist; they were made to be a muse. He wanted that smile to last forever.

“Yes…”

Sukuna pressed another kiss to the junction of their jaw and neck, before pressing another to the short hair on their nape.

“I’ll go slow, but… I’m at my limit too.”

He took his upper cock in hand, rubbing the fat head against Uraume’s fluttering hole, smearing the spit-slicked entrance with his precum. Each time it snagged, he couldn’t help but hiss out through gritted teeth; he needed to bite down on the back of his wrist to muffle the sound.

Gently—oh, so gently—he pressed forward, and fuck.

Uraume was so warm.

The two hands gripping Uraume’s ass flew to the mattress, grabbing at the sheets with white knuckles as he held himself back from snapping his hips forward. Every fibre in him was screaming—mount, breed, fuck, maim, mate, move.

Move.

Move.

He was trembling with the effort to stay still. To let them adjust. But their tight little hole was fluttering around him, Uraume slack-jawed with the intrusion despite it being only the tip.

“Can… you take more?”

The words were hoarse and pathetic, his throat like sandpaper where he strained with the effort of not screaming.

Uraume, drooling on the sheets, whimpered.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sukuna a thousand years ago would have already pumped Uraume full; would have fucked enough cum into them to get them pregnant, cock or not. He would have taken his own pleasure, bullied both cocks into their tight hole, blood and spit slicking the way—their pain be damned.

Sukuna clenched his teeth.

He was not that man anymore.

“I need to hear you say it.”

For everything he had done wrong in his life, Sukuna hoped this would atone; the effort it was taking him to be this careful was herculean. Saintly.

“Yes—please… ‘kuna…”

Sukuna slowly pushed in further. He went slowly, listening for every gasp, for every whimper. He stopped at every hiccup, pressed a kiss for every whine.

“There.”

The word was almost reverent.

He was fully seated in Uraume now, chest pressed to their back as he caged them in with big arms.

“You’re taking me so well. So tight… so warm.”

Uraume whimpered, bearing down on the girthy cock deep inside. The hand that had guided him inside dropped to rub Uraume’s stomach, ghosting over the little bulge in their navel.

“So full of me, darling… feel.”

Sukuna guided their hand down, down, down, to feel the bulge of their stomach and the wetness between their legs, split open, spit-slicked, and gushing precum.

Uraume keened, tightening up, and Sukuna pressed a hot kiss to the side of their head.

“Shh… I’ve got you. I’m going to move now, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

Sukuna drew out languidly, four eyes rolling back as he felt the drag of that tight little rim up his shaft. He pressed back in with the same care, lapping away at the fat tears rolling down his lover’s cheeks. Uraume was blissed out, moans vibrating through Sukuna’s chest and bones.

“Faster… break me.”

Sukuna’s heart squeezed, and he swallowed back a groan as his hips snapped forward with increased vigor.

He was trying to play nice, but fuck.

Uraume was killing him.

He plowed them steady into the bed, grunting into their ear and squeezing his eyes shut to preserve the little sanity he was clinging onto. If he had to look at that face again, he’d cum.

Sukuna was many evil things, but he would never let himself cum before his partner did.

Uraume’s legs gave out. Sukuna fucked them through it, one cock plunging into their trembling form while the second nudged between prone thighs. Between the hot squeeze of Uraume’s pliant hole and the feeling of his second cock rubbing against his lover’s slicked shaft and balls, Sukuna wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer.

Uraume whimpered into the mattress, babbling incoherent, broken praises. Sukuna lifted a leg for some leverage, pounding into them just a little deeper to fuck at their sensitive spot deep inside. His full balls slapped wetly against their ass with each thrust, and the noise alone had his head reeling.

“Shit—fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—won’t last,” he hissed against their neck, breathing in the heady scent of sex and sweat and them. “Come for me baby… please, please, please—”

“Can’t—”

Sukuna growled, reaching a hand down to find their wet little cock—sticky and semi-flaccid, having cum without him.

“Fuck. Yes, you can. And you will.”

Their lover whined into the sheets, cock stirring with weak interest as Sukuna fisted it in time with his thrusts. He was so close—so wet that he could have slipped his second cock inside—

He bit down on Uraume’s shoulder so hard he drew blood.

They gasped and tightened, cock twitching weakly in his grasp.

They were cumming—

But nothing was coming out.

Uraume ground back into him as they shot blanks, and Sukuna’s mind went white hot. His eyes rolled back into his skull, pleasure jolting down his thighs and into the tips of his toes. The bed groaned with each pound into Uraume’s bullied prostate, Sukuna’s second cock weeping between their trembling thighs.

It took one, two thrusts before he was gasping into bloodied flesh, cocks pumping rope after rope of thick semen into his lovers’ guts and onto the back of their balls. Cum dribbled out through pathetic whimpers, his hips stuttering as globs of cream formed a milky ring around the base of his shaft.

Uraume keened, and fuck that felt good.

He held them with all four arms as his cock stilled inside, breathing in their scent and kissing around the tender bite. He gently pulled out, shifting to drag Uraume into his chest as he lay on his side next to them.

“I love you.”

It was quiet, pressed to their hair. He wasn’t sure if Uraume was in any state to comprehend the depth of what he was offering, but it felt right.

Uraume hummed into the blankets, and before he could process it, pale hands were pulling his face down, thumbs brushing away tears he didn’t realize he had shed.

“I love you too, Sukuna. I always have.”

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter

Summary: A conversation between my Tav and Astarion inspired me to write a short one-shot (I lied it's a series) reader insert about what I think would happen if they met before they were taken by the mind flayers

pt 2 | pt 3

This is pretty much my first attempt at reader insert so be nice to me pls ;-;

Lemme know if I made any grammar or spelling errors

Word count: 2.9k

---------------

“I’ll take the most you can give me of whatever has the most alcohol in it” 

You announce, slapping some gold coins down on the scuffed wooden bar. The barkeep who probably hasn’t had any business for the past hour startles out of his daydream and glances at you in surprise. He’s a dwarf, with a braided beard and kind eyes, and if it weren’t for the creaky wooden step stool he climbs up on to take orders he would barely be able to see over the bar top.

“Bit early in the night for that wouldn’t you say?” He asks as he climbs a ladder to retrieve a glass from the shelf above his head. You glance out the window as the last few rays of the setting sun color the night a deep reddish purple before it fades into a comforting black. 

You slide another gold coin across the bar. The barkeep smiles,

“Perfect time for some chultun fireswill if I say so myself miss.” He winks, slides the hefty glass full of orange liquid your way, and swipes up the coins before turning to another customer making their way into the tavern. You hold the glass up to your nose and sniff its contents. The fumes coming off the heavily spiced spirit has your nose burning and your eyes watering- perfect. 

You tap the glass on the counter and knock it back. You manage to get a few swallows in before your brain catches up to you and the fireswill burns a searing path from your throat into your stomach, settling there and warming you from the inside out. You slam the glass down and cover your mouth with your hand, trying and failing to hold in a fit of coughs. 

“Easy now.”

A cold hand lands on your shoulder, cooling your heated skin, and you turn, bleary eyed, unprepared for what you find.

He’s an elf, a very very pale elf- but not sickly pale. He just looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a century or two. His hair catches your eye, a shocking shade of pure white that makes his skin seem tan in comparison. It’s shorter than most elves keep their hair, and it curls in every direction, framing his face beautifully. Once you recover from your initial dazed attraction to him you attempt to level him with your meanest glare that you hope says piss off. He raises his hands in playful surrender and smiles disarmingly at you.

“Rough day?” He asks in a drawling voice. You take him in. He’s wearing a clean white shirt under a set of padded leather armor, and spotless black leather boots. He looks every bit a spoiled noble that has never seen a day of work in his life, but his hands are calloused, and his eyes look haunted. Speaking of his eyes, they’re quite an alluring shade of red. What an odd color for an elf-

His eyes narrow perceptively, as if he’s reading your thoughts as they flit across your face. He turns away, gesturing at your drink and turning your gaze away from his unique appearance.

“Most Baldurians don’t even touch that stuff until well past midnight, are we celebrating or forgetting?”

You turn your body away from the charming elf and stare into the last few sips of your drink. 

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m here to drink, not to talk.”

“Forgetting it is then. Excellent.”

From the corner of his eye you see him grin roguishly, the flash of his white teeth sending a curious spark of adrenaline through your system. Before you can discern why you suddenly went from warm and buzzed to fight or flight, he turns away, tossing a blue coin purse onto the bar and calling for the barkeep, allowing the alcohol to calm your frazzled nerves once more.

“Excuse me Lydon, I’d like to buy our grumpy friend here a drink that won’t burn a hole through her stomach,” He leans over the bar and drops his voice to a low murmur as if he were sharing a secret, “got anything good for me?” he practically purrs.

The dwarf, Lydon, flushes a deep red and grins coyly at the mysterious patron, “Maybe. But I don’t have enough for everyone Astarion, what if someone comes asking me how she got the good stuff and all I’m willing to sell them is stale ale and swill?”

Astarion’s answering grin is downright lethal. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” He winks. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

Lydon blushes even darker if that were possible and mumbles something about having a type before trodding off toward the old wooden door behind the bar. You’d never related to anything more. Astarion turns toward you and raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Waiting for a thank you?” You ask, wrestling with the instinct ingrained in you to be polite. Your tendency to people please is what landed you in this run down tavern in the first place. You don’t know this elf, and you don’t owe him anything.

“Well I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude darling- especially not from you” his eyes trace a path from the top of your head to your scuffed leather boots and back up again, stopping at the blush on your cheeks, he smirks, and meets your eyes again. He steps closer to bump your shoulder with his teasingly, and stays there, close enough that your arm brushes his.

“But no my dear, I’m not waiting for a thank you. I’m waiting for a story.” 

“Oh yeah? Keep waiting.” You growl, and he tosses his head back, a genuine laugh bursting out of him. The sound of it is contagious, and you fight the urge to grin yourself. You nearly manage it, save for a slight twitch of your lips that he of course notices.

He tsks, shaking his head at you “I saw that. No use hiding that smile from me, love. The damage is already done.” 

You glare, this time with much less hostility. 

“Who are you? I’m morose and drunk on purpose, elf, and I will not let you wrestle me from it.”

“My name is Astarion” he says with a wink and a mock bow before he leans in, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, “and I’ll wager you’ll let me do a lot worse than that before the end of the night.”

Your breath catches, your pulse picks up, and you’re about to lose yourself in those strange eyes of his when a loud creeeeeaaak and a crash causes both of you to leap away from one another. The dwarven barkeep’s old step stool seems to have finally given in. He lay sprawled on the floor behind the bar, his foot caught in between the split wood.

“GODS DAMMIT” He howls, kicking off the stool. He sighs and hobbles up to you and your new… companion. You can see nothing but his angry eyes and the flushed red tips of his ears as he pours your drink and reaches up to hand it to you. When you grab for it he pulls it out of your grasp and stares at you with a threat in his eyes.

“You didn’t see that.” He snarls at both of you.

“See what?” Astarion feigns ignorance, looking around the room dramatically for whatever the dwarf could possibly be talking about. The barkeep rolls his eyes and hands the drink to you before limping off to find a chair to stand on.

You breathe slowly through your nose.

In.

Out.

In.

You will not laugh.

You have self control.

You take one glance at the pinched “I’m trying not to laugh” look on Astarions face, one that probably mirrors your own, and you explode in a fit of giggles so intense they make your stomach ache.

Astarion can’t hold it in either and slaps the table in his silent gasping laughter, the two of you making quite a scene, but somehow you really don’t care. 

You wipe tears from your eyes and sigh once your laughing fit subsides, your sour mood a distant memory despite your best efforts to cling to it.

“How dare you,” You whine half-heartedly. “I was so committed to my bad mood and you had to go and ruin it.”

Astarion’s eyebrows lower in confused amusement.

“Awww you poor sad little thing. I’d apologize, really I would, but unfortunately for you I’m not sorry.”

You take a swig of the drink he bought for you. It tastes of cherry and currant, and you have never had something so delicious from such a tiny little tavern.

“You should be” you murmur, hanging your head, the humor fading as you’re reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Astarion notices your shift in demeanor and reaches down, lifting your chin with a cool finger and bringing your gaze to his.

“About that story,” He smiles encouragingly, and you give in.

The alcohol must really be getting to you now, there was no other explanation for the warm, safe feeling that hummed under your skin. Astarion was sweet, and attractive. His attention felt good, and before you could even make the decision to trust him you were already talking. You told him how you were a magistrate in the lower city, complained how the court system was broken and corrupt, and how the judge only appoints magistrates that unthinkingly obey his preferences, never allowing them to make their own judgements. You had tried for months to get on his good side but you think all you did was obliterate any meager scrap of respect he did have for you, and now every interaction you have with him he barks orders at you like you’re his dog and then dismisses you. You were thinking of finding a new profession altogether, but the lower city was plagued with crime, good people died every day because of it, and you had the power to help at least a little if only your boss wasn’t such an asshole. To your embarrassment you began to tear up as you finished your story.

Astarion for his part never interrupts you. He listens with rapt attention to your woeful tale, an indiscernible look on his handsome face. You try to turn your head away as a tear escapes your eye but his grip on your chin tightens, forcing you to stay right where you are. He wipes it away with his other hand and stares at you for a moment, seemingly deciding something.

He reaches up and drags a hand through his hair, releases a held breath, and plucks the glass from your hand, drinking what was left of its contents in two gulps. He brings the glass back down to the counter, a drop of the crimson wine dripping down his chin. The image gives you an odd feeling, like you’re missing a revelation that is only just out of your grasp. He glances behind you, and you turn and follow his gaze to another rather pale looking elf, this one with darker hair but similarly colored eyes watching the two of you with rapt attention. Goosebumps rise on your skin and that fight or flight instinct is back in full force. Your heart begins to pound against your chest, understanding the danger that you’re in even if you do not. 

“Smart girl” Astarion murmurs, and you whip back around to face him.

He wipes his face with his sleeve and grabs you by the hand, pulling you off the bar stool.

“W-what are you-” He places a hand on your lower back and begins deftly guiding you through the raucous crowd of drunk Baldurians. One stumbling wizard in the crowd pats his pockets down and cries,

“Has anyone seen my coin purse? It’s blue!”

“Walk faster” Astarion says into your ear, his warm breath whispering across your neck. You do as he says.

After what feels like a lifetime of dodging drunk elbows and slipping through temporary openings in the crowd you reach the exit, and Astarion rushes you soberingly into the cold night air. 

“You stole that guy's money didn’t you?” You accuse.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deny it,

“What are you going to do darling? Arrest me?” is his reply.

He doesn’t slow down for a single second, ushering you into a dark alley near the tavern.

“Astarion what are we doing? You can’t just wander into abandoned alleyways at night! This is how people get kidnapped.”

His startled gaze clashes with yours in the dim light for a moment before he laughs. Not an amused genuine laugh, but a pained, choked sound that claws its way out of his throat involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair once again and then turns away from you, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It is indeed, darling,” He whispers so quietly you have to lean towards him to hear it. 

“You have no idea.”

You don’t have time to react, the alcohol slowing your reflexes, before his hand is around your throat and your back is against the brick wall of whatever building is behind you. You reach up and grab his wrist, eyes widening in panic. For a flash you see in your mind your body lying asphyxiated in the revealing light of morning, another victim to the merciless city of Baldur’s gate, and you prepare to fight like hell, when Astarion lunges for you and…

Kisses you?

Your brain short circuits, all thoughts drifting away with the sensation of Astarion’s mouth on yours. His hand around your throat gentles, his long fingers drifting over your skin until they press into your pulse point, feeling your racing heartbeat. 

You fist his shirt sleeve in your hand. Maybe it's because you’re smashed, maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time someone kissed you, maybe it’s because you know no one that’s ever kissed you has been as good at it as this man- whatever the reason may be, you kiss him back. 

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, stepping closer until his body is pressed against yours. You reach up to do what you’ve been dying to do since you first saw him and feel the soft strands of his hair.

He leans into your touch and it emboldens you to kiss him deeper, your tongue scraping against something… sharp?

He gasps and pulls back, just a few inches, staring into your eyes. He seems to be searching for something, almost desperately.

You stare back, equal parts terrified of and enraptured by this beautiful stranger.

Finally, he drops his hand from your neck and steps back, the cold air assaulting you once more as you crash back down to reality. You gaze at Astarion, confusion written all over your features.

“I can’t do this” He laughs. It sounds just as pained as the last one.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t bring you to him”

His head snaps up to the sky, studying the stars.

“I still have time to find another. Petras saw me with you, he’ll tell Cazador if I come back with someone else. But I can lie. I can say you knew what I was, escaped before I could lure you back. Maybe he won't question it. I’d spend a few weeks in the kennels but it could be worse. I can’t tell him I changed my mind, I can’t spend another year in that tomb.” He’s rambling now, not to you but to himself. 

He rubs his face in his hands and takes another stumbling step back.

“Go” Is all he says.

“Go? Go where?” You mumble, feeling cold and strangely a little hurt by his retreat into the shadows.

You don’t have dark vision, in the dim torch light much of his face is now hidden from you, but his eerily red eyes seem to glow like a cat’s now in the dark. The sight fills you with dread. Pieces begin to connect, the hundreds of unsolved missing person cases, the handful of eyewitness accounts claiming they saw the missing leave with someone. The descriptions varied, but a few details remained constant. The unknown person was always charming, flirtatious even, they tried to get their victims intoxicated in some way, and they always had a pallid complexion, red eyes, and sharp canines. Sifting sluggishly through your muddled memories you can even recall a couple of accounts of victims leaving taverns on the arm of a white haired pale elven man.

Astarion was a vampire.

“Go back to the courts,” He begins, “and never apologize to Judge Eruien. Stand up to him when he’s being an ass, he’ll never respect you otherwise. Go back home and lock your doors safely behind you. Never invite anyone in unless you trust them implicitly. Go back to your life in the sun, make Baldur’s gate a little better just by being in it, and if you ever-” He leans toward you, his face inches from yours once more. Now that you know what to look for, you catch glimpses of his uncomfortably long canines with every word that he speaks. 

“See anyone with eyes like mine again… run.”

With that he steps back into the shadows. They seem to swallow him whole, and you do run, a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you never told Astarion the name of that judge you were lamenting about.

In the years that follow you take his advice, and your work life drastically improves. Enough so that you feel comfortable asking the old elven judge about his former magistrates, a tear dripping down your cheek as he tells you what he can recall about a white haired elf with golden eyes and a promising future that was ripped away when he was murdered almost two centuries ago by a gang of Gur that didn’t appreciate his final ruling.

A month later you wake up in a nautiloid.

[starsfic]

Xiaotian points out one day that Zhu Bajie, Ao Lie, and Sha Wujing had to have had partners if his family and friends are their descendants. Sun Wukong is eager to spill the tea.

Anon: Monkie kid prompt: Wukong learns about Zhu Baije’s punishment (the love tragedy one) from Pigsy. And makes sure that it doesn’t happen or it ends with Pigsy’s and Tang’s relationship The Zhu Bajie and Ao Lie stories inspired by @twinklecupcake's wives.

A huge chest slammed onto the table, the dust on it thick enough that Xiaotian was sent into a coughing fit. "That's huge," he wheezed. "What's all in it?"

"Oh, a lot," Sun Wukong said, throwing open the chest. He pulled out a bunch of scrolls and loose pictures, what looked to be at least two fancy hanfus, and other stuff. Tang reached for one of the scrolls only for Wukong to slap his hand. The last thing he pulled out looked to be a photo album.

"Now," Wukong said, reaching for the scroll Tang attempted to grab. "I have no idea where Sha Wujing got his kid," He unfolded the scroll to reveal an ink picture. The giant river demon beamed next to a nervous-looking Tripitaka, the taller holding a small demon child. The child beamed with sharp shark teeth. "He just popped up one day and asked if I would basically be the kid's godfather and never asked any questions."

Sandy made a grabbing motion and Wukong let him take the scroll, ignoring Tang's pout. "So, he adopted?" the demon asked.

"Either that or he kidnapped the kid from a bad situation."

Wukong grabbed another scroll and unrolled it, presenting to Long Xiaojiao first. She cooed at the image of her white-haired ancestor in wedding robes, holding hands with a pretty dark-haired girl. "Oh, she's so pretty!" she said, pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. "Who is she?"

"She was a farmgirl, living on a farm near the ocean. Ao Lie apparently worked as a farmhand for her dad for several months because he got bored and ending up doing the whole Princess Bride schtick," Wukong said, unfolding one of the robes to reveal the red fabric was stitched with green dragons. "We didn't even get told about the wedding until she was expecting their second kid, although Master insisted on them having a second wedding so we could be there." His smile grew bigger. "They had a big stuffy court wedding where she was apparently so upset the entire morning because she had no idea Ao Lie was a prince and thought she was marrying some random stranger, so they didn't need much convincing."

Xiaojiao's eyes got bigger. "Can I-?" She made grabby hands. Wukong handed over the wedding robe with no protest. She zoomed out of the room and soon returned, striking a pose. Whatever preservation spell was on the fabric was strong, since it looked perfect despite its age. Xiaojiao was a tad shorter than Ao Lie, so some of it dragged on the floor, but it looked amazing.

"What about..." Pigsy sighed, as if the name was bitter on his tongue. "Zhu Bajie?"

Wukong's smile froze on his face. "He...uh...he returned to Blue Orchid, and I helped them find a new place in the countryside since her dad put up a stink," He reached for another scroll, handing it over. "They were besotted with each other. When she got pregnant, they were so happy...But he had a curse to be never happy in love."

Connections did not need further help.

The scroll depicted a scene of wedded bliss, the tiny woman dwarfed by the giant boar, a hand pressed protectively to her round stomach. The artist had caught them smiling at each other, eyes full of love and hope for the future.

Wukong, lost in memories, didn't notice Xiaojiao grabbing the scrapbook. "Is that why you were stalking Pigsy?" she called.

The monkey went stiff. "What?" Tang said.

"There's no need to see that-" Wukong made a grab but Xiaojiao danced back, her grin getting wider.

"Is this their first date-?!"

"WHAT?!"

"I wanna see!"

"I just wanted to help-"

Sandy, watching as his friends, his family, broke into struggle over the scrapbook that memorialized his oldest friends' happiness, smiled. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

This could join the rest of the memories of the pilgrims.

[kidsinsaturn]

Hii, since your requests are open, may I request Shisui headcanons with a short reader? Perhaps NSFW since we all know this man has a raging size kink, and if it's not too much also fluffy and soft ones too.

Absolutely adore your work and I'm really happy you're back <3.

Hope you have a nice day <3

shisui with a short s/o

[🗼] SHISWEEEE <333

characters: shisui uchiha

genre: sfw; nsfw

warnings: g!reader; insane size kink;

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..

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-omg shisui with a short significant other?? where have I heard that?? so unlike him...

-NOO but shisui please he is so dumb I love him. he would definitely have a thing for a s/o shorter than him. it is kind of common since he is tall with his beautiful 6ft, and curly hair, and nice shoulders, and charming smile ohh

-he is so naughty I love him. he knows he is no ugly by any means. you definitely fell for him for his charisma, but he knows you don't forget about his physique. he just likes someone who is as insane about size as him okayyy let him be normal

-either you mention it or shisui finds out about your little liking over his size and height. if you mention it, he is so flustered!! like!! he thinks you are too much. he tells you how much he loves towering you--while towering you of course, shisui provides visual demonstration--, how your shoulders bump into his chest and biceps when walking, how he often finds himself imagining you in his much larger clothes

-and if you don't say anything and let shisui find out, he is very subtle and indirect with his actions and comments until he drives you crazy

-ok enough scenarios lets go to the real headcanons. AHH SHISUI would compare your handsss, hands down it just drives him insane seeing your much smaller hands been dwarfed by his much larger one

-like I mentioned, he would often play images of you with his clothes. probably the first time that happened, his sharingan activated mindlessly, so the picture is there for ever. it has now become a habit and everytime you wear something of his, he just records you with his demonic red eyes

-in a modern au, shisui would insist SO MUCH in taking those pictures where the height difference is so noticeable. like in front of the mirror, him taking from above, his arm embracing you ahh im so delusional

-a very deep part of him wishes you don't use such baggy clothes. he enjoys seeing your figure defined just to feed more into his embarrassing size kink. like if you were short and slim, please just wear tank tops

-shisui is always comparing your body to his smh your hands, your heads, your wrists, your legs, your feet, your ears, one time he wanted to ask about the length of your front tooth just to see if his teeth were larger than yours omfg

-even though he deeply enjoys being the little spoon and gets eepy when you enclose your arms around him, he loves the feeling of being the big spoon. having the feeling that he is protecting you solely with his body since he is covering your almost fully

-slightly weird headcanon, but every time shisui hears you saying your height for whatever reason, he feels a subtle tug on his chest

nsfw ->

-GIRRLLL the best thing that can happen to shisui is getting a partner with the same level of insanity about size kink as himmmm

-shisui is a little freak in the bed but he will not show it until he is sure you are just as freak as he is. he would feel out of place or even as if he is doing something that you don't like

-but like a s/o that knows about this raging size kink gooood. tease him please. every time you suck his pretty dick, your lips are plumped from the intense sucking, your throat is sore for his head hitting the back of it. if you cry while giving him head, he cries too

-just say kinky shit like "oh shisui, I can't continue sucking you, you are so big you're too much!" or when stroking him, "are you aware I need both my hands to hold your cock?" he is devastated

-his favorite position of all time will always be missionary. yeah he makes you feel good and you can almost feel his cock all the way up your chest whatever, but shisui just enjoys the viewww

-the way his body totally towers over yours is just so erotic to him!! he stays in that position even if his limbs start to feel numb. he also gets to roam his large hands around your abdomen, the feeling making your toes curl, enjoying the weight and the pressure he is applying to your body

-PLEASE AUGH you just know every time you two make out, shisui gets a boner ofcrouse<3 but he just cannot end your kisses without rubbing his stupid dick against your belly ammmm

-he is so naughty and know exactly what he is doing. he would not let an opportunity pass if it means stroking his prominent and throbbing cock against any part of your body. your ass, your back, even against your arms omg stop.

-shisui is just so sexually aroused when he thinks too much about your size difference. he just can't wait to have you below him, his cock, thick as hell, pumping in and out of your small hole. he can't help but stare at how it stretches so well against his cock

-he is no fool and is well aware of his own attributes. he knows his cock is above average thickness and your hole being just smaller than average ammmm makes him go nuts

-any positions where he can corner you and have full access to any part of your body he is down for it. shisui starts slow, watching your every move, as subtle as it can be, with his red eyes; but he always ends up holding you tight, almost embracing you. his face close to your neck letting soft moans, his hands keeping you in place. he is just so broad, you need not to worry about anything else, he is taking care of you

-just cling onto him. him sensing you losing your strength to support your own weight is just so amazing. he is so strong so even if you're doing it standing up, he will hold you for dear life

-and let's not forget about the small bump on your lower belly moving at the same rhythm shisui is moving. his cock thick and deep inside enough to make that bulge. that is a sight. he will go crazy and even comment about it: "do you really feel my head all the way there?" while stroking a finger around where his tip would be

[imagines--galore]

Kili x reader angst where they're courting so reader has in the braids and beads et. But reader gets taken during a fight as a prisoner and they punish her by cutting off her hair n such and she's so apologetic and guilty to kili when he sees but he just sees red because whoever they were fighting violated his love (cuz in dwarf culture that's cruel). Angst comfort mega combo

Pairing: Kili x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Angst. Comfort. A bit of fighting and a bit of trauma but thats it.

A/N: Moving from one city to the other really takes it out of ya. Anyway! I am now back and writing again. Omg I LOVE this request so much! Much fluff. Much feels. :3

Also I am now taking requests so go ahead and send me stuff. You can find my rules here. Please send me stuff to write!

You couldn’t help but feel giddy. More then once your hand would raise to the newly formed braid in your hair. It rested beside your left temple and you could still feel the warmth of Kili’s fingers where he had braided it not even a few hours ago. It felt strange to have a new braid, but one you were more then proud to wear. The bead and braid both signified your status with the Royal Family. But more then that. It told the world that you and Kili belonged to one another.

Placing the last of the packs onto the cart, you gave a small nod to the driver who stirred the ponies into motion and began carting the now loaded goods back to Erebor. You had been traveling with the tradesmen to exchange goods with a nearby village. Your ailing father had not been able to make the trip, and being his only child, the duty had fallen on your head. Two members of the Royal Family, namely Thorin and Kili had decided to accompany the party in hopes of forming some alliance with the village Master.

It had been the night before that Kili had requested your presence. You had been confused at his strange behavior. Normally, Kili would be full of words and he never had a problem to articulate them. That night though, he had been stumbling over his words and when he had finally caught on to your confusion, he had simply held the bead out to you.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement.

It was true your feelings for the young prince were rather strong and deep, but you had never imagined that his ran just as deep as yours. Tears had filled your eyes, but you had blinked them away before reaching up to pull down the hood of your cloak. Kili had stepped closer, his fingers reaching out to take a section of your hair which he then began to braid. The two of you were silent as he expertly attached the bead with his family crest at the end of the now finished braid. The silence made the moment all the more intimate.

As soon as it was done, you gave him no warning before you had jumped into his arms had embraced him tightly. The small clearing now rang with joyous laughter as he spun you around, before setting you down and sealing the moment with a kiss.

You were so lost in reliving the memory of last night that you did not notice the strange dwarf approaching you from behind. Not until it was too late. 

Fleeing was not an option, as several dwarfs began to attack the ones she had come with. You could only struggle helplessly as you and several other dwarfs were thrown in the back of a cart and the thieves made quick work of escaping, taking whatever loot they had gathered, and whoever they had captured.

Including you.

                                              -------------------------

It had all happened rather quickly.

The dwarfs had taken several hostages, including you, but it had taken next to no time for the soldiers of Erebor to be dispatched to rescue everyone. However, the few hours you were held hostage was enough for a few things to transpire.

One of the kidnappers was tormenting an old dwarf, kicking him around to make him walk faster. Not being able to sit quietly, you had snapped at the abuser, prompting him to turn his attention to you. He had told you to shut up, before turning back to his previous task. You had picked up a rock and thrown it at his head, the small projectile meeting its mark.

Only once his attention turned to you, did you realize that perhaps you shouldn’t have done that. He marched over to you, before yanking you away from the group of kidnapped dwarfs huddled together for safety. You had kicked and screamed the entire time, yet your cries fell on deaf ears. Multiple kicks were aimed at your torso and face, yet they did not hurt as much as when the dwarf yanked at your hair.

Once his greedy eyes landed on the bead Kili had gifted you, his lips pulled into a menacing smile. Pulling out a wicked looking dagger, the dwarf carelessly chopped off the braid Kili had so lovingly braided. You barely noticed as the steel of the blade cut across your forehead, you cried in despair as the braid with the bead was thrown in a nearby fire where it smoldered to nothing.

It was only seconds later that the warriors sent to rescue you fell upon the enemy emitting blood curdling war cries. Yet you barely noticed as you continued to stare into the depths of the small fire, tears filling your eyes, as you mourned the loss of something so small, yet so significant.

Feeling a warm hand being placed on your shoulder, you glanced up to see Dwalin looking down at you with a kind and gentle expression. Slowly, you allowed him to guide you to where his pony stood waiting. He helped you onto the animal, before getting behind you. You barely noticed anything and anyone around you as the triumphant rescue party began to trek back to Erebor with the kidnappers in tow.

                                             -------------------------

To say Kili was beside himself with worry would be an understatement. The moment he had realized what had happened, and that you had been one of the dwarfs kidnapped, he had wanted to take the first pony and run after you. His uncle, however, had other ideas. Fear of this being a plot to draw the royals of Erebor out in the open, Thorin had decided to send his best warriors, led by Dwalin, to retrieve you and the other dwarfs. Still it did not stop Kili from screaming at his Uncle to let him go, neither did it stop him from telling Fili off for siding with Thorin.

His heart felt as if it would beat right out of his chest. His mind raced with thoughts of you. Every single moment you had both shared, before being replaced by the sight of you broken and hurt lying somewhere out in the open. For hours he paced the ramparts of the mountain, looking over at the horizon, to try and catch a glimpse of the returning warriors.

It was a few hours later that he heard the distant call of a horn. All over the mountain horns began to blow, signalling the return of the rescue party. Kili was the first one at the gates, straining to catch a glimpse of you as the small band of dwarfs approached. Dwalin rode at the very front and reached first. He was quick to dismount, before moving to help lift your trembling body from the back of the pony and set you on the ground.

A wave of dizziness overcame you, as you swayed on your feet, yet the feeling of two familiar arms wrapping around you and supporting your body, was able to give you a little strength. You raised your wide eyes to look at Kili’s face. The sight of him, looking so worried and relieved, broke whatever shred of control you had as you collapsed against him and began to sob over your loss.

“I’m sorry, Kili. I am so sorry. I-I lost the bead you gave me. T-th-they cut my braid and I tried to save the bead but they threw it in the fire. I-I c-couln’t-” Here your strength seemed to fail you as your knees collapsed underneath you. Luckily, Kili was there to catch you. Wrapping his arms more firmly around your frame, he pulled you close. Briefly the world around the two of you disappeared as he comforted you.

His face was buried in your hair as he whispered sweet nothings and reassurances in your ear. Tears streamed down your cheeks and onto his clothes as the trauma finally registered in your mind. So far you had been focused on protecting and helping the other captives. But now? With Kili’s arms around you, you simply could not hold yourself together. Your body shook with each sob as Kili pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

The Dwarf Clan that had decided to attack the citizens of Erebor were more then a little nervous now. They had no idea who you were. No idea that you were the betrothed of a Prince of Erebor. Each dwarf shuffled nervously as Kili finally raised his head to look at each of the dwarfs in turn.

His eyes held a rage that made his hands tremble as his gaze swept over the villains. They would pay. Every single one of them would be held accountable for the horror they had inflicted upon his beloved.

“My son?”

His attention was briefly diverted by the presence of his mother. Behind her stood his Uncle and brother, alongside many other dwarfs who were greeting their own loved ones that had been kidnapped. When they had arrived, Kili had no idea. Dis reached out to gently extract you from his embrace. Kili moved to protest but a look from his mother had him stay silent. “I shall take care of Y/N. See her injuries are not severe.” Her eyes flitted to the captured dwarfs. Kili could see fury in his mother’s eyes as well, mirroring his own. But he knew Y/N needed to be taken away. He had no desire for you to see what he was about to do the captured dwarfs.

Nodding, Kili reached out to press a kiss to your forehead. “I will see you soon, my heart.” He whispered to you in Khuzdul. You raised your tear-stained cheeks to meet his gaze as Dis gently pulled you away. You followed the motherly dwarf after a parting look to your betrothed.

Once you had safely entered the mountain, Kili turned his attention back to the Dwarf Clan that had dared take you from him. He glanced at his brother and Uncle. The former’s anger was equal to his own, since he considered you family and hated to see you hurt and in despair. His Uncle simply raised his hand and spoke. “They will be punished however you see fit, sister-son.”

The dark look that crossed over Kili’s features had the Dwarf Clan regretting what they had done, and praying he would show some leniency.

                                             -------------------------

As soon as you had returned to your chambers, Dis had shooed your handmaidens so that they may prepare a warm bath. The older female dwarf had held you close to her side as the handmaidens prepared the bath for you. Though as soon as everything had been laid out and she was in the large tub, you spoke.

"If you don't mind, Mother, I want to be alone."

You didn't want be in anyone's presence at the moment, wanting to grieve the small yet significant loss on your own. Dis seemed to understand the reasoning behind your words and gave a small nod. Once the handmaidens had departed, Dis leaned down to press a motherly kiss to your brow.

"If you need to speak to anyone my dear, let me know." With a parting smile she left.

You had no idea how long you sat in the tub for. Her hand hung around you, unbound and free, floating in the warm water. Taking a small breath, you submerged completely in the water, closing your eyes as you allowed the warmth of the water to envelope your tired aching body. You could've stayed down in the cocoon of safety forever, but you needed to breath.

Emerging from the depths, you took a deep breath.

You didn't know for how long you sat in the water, feeling utterly numb and refusing to let yourself acknowledge what had happened. Perhaps it would be wise to simply move forward from the event.

Pretend it hadn't even happened.

It wasn't until you started to shiver from the now cold water that you stepped out of the bath, and wrapped a warm thick robe around your body. Water trickled from your hair, leaving a small puddle as you walked towards the vanity. Your fingers brushed against the handle of your comb when your gaze shifted to look in the mirror. The sight of your empty eyes, and the lack of the braid Kili had so lovingly put in your hair was the breaking point.

A whimper echoed in your chambers, followed by the sound of sobbing as you let loose the pain and horror. It finally sank in just how frightened you had been. Terrified. And amidst what had happened, you had lost something so so so precious.

The thought only made you sob all the more harder.

You didn't hear the door to your room opening, didn't catch sight of the pained look that overtook Kili's features as he ran to gather you in his arms.

"What is it my heart? What hurts?" He asked, checking you over to make sure there was no serious injury. You shook your head, just clutching to him. It took a little while before your sobs subsided and you calmed down enough to take a deep breath and speak.

"I'm sorry." The word hadn't even left your mouth before Kili cut you off. "You need not be sorry for anything my love. Nothing is your fault." His hand gently caressed the small area near your forehead where your braid had hung just this morning. You averted your gaze, shame coloring your cheeks, but he grasped your chin, and gently turned your head to look at him.

"I ran into Mother on my way hear. And she gave me something." So saying, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bead. It was beautifully crafted, and she could see the skill behind it despite the tears still welling in her eyes.

"My father gave this to my mother, when they were betrothed. And now she wants you to wear it." Your eyes widened and you shook your head. "Kili, I couldn't this is your father's gift to your mother." You said, leaning away from him slightly.

He smiled. "She considers you a daughter Y/N, she offered this to you. But should you feel strongly about it you can wear this for a few days while I create another betrothal bead for you." He said, his fingers already grasping a new section of your hair. You were silent as he began to braid your hair anew. With each lock of hair intersecting, you could feel your soul being pieced together once more.

Finally, Kili clicked the bead into place, and smiled at you. "Just as beautiful as ever." He said, his eyes meeting yours.

An involuntary giggle fell from your lips at his shameless flirting. One of the many traits that had won you over. "Thank you Kili." You closed whatever space was left between the two of you and pressed your lips to his.

His fingers buried in the hair at the back of your head as he returned the embrace. It was sweet, slow and seemed to sooth whatever leftovers the both of your had. And as he held you, you couldn't help but feel safe and loved.

"I love you, Kili." You breathed against his lips. You could feel him smile gently in response before he whispered back his response.

"And I you, Y/N."

[egglain]

North

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Sukuna x Uraume Content: post-canon (sukuna-specific ending spoilers), true form sukuna, nonbinary uraume, hunter/prey, blindfolds, amab vessel uraume, praise, dacryphilia, overstim, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, dry orgasms, bath (outdooor), anal (fingering, penetration), oral & rimming (uraume receiving), explicit consent, belly bulge, sukuna is whipppeddddd Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Sukuna swore he was done with this life.... but if he had to do it all over again, he’d choose love.

(A reunion, a misunderstanding, and a long apology.) (A very long, and very sexy, apology.)

@dreamlandcreations' Kinktober 2024 day 5: hunter/prey - blindfold - forced orgasm

Sukuna swore he was done with this life.

He met his end.

He chose his end, in fact. Walked across the thin line between life and death with his head held high, his large hand dwarfing Uraume’s. For the first time in a long time, he had been in control—not that the King of Curses was ever out of control, per se—but he had been given the ability to choose.

He didn’t choose to be reawakened. Didn’t choose to be called-upon, a pawn in a twisted game of the modern age. A tool. A weapon. He didn’t choose to have his life taken again.

But he came to accept it. He chose to accept it.

He chose to never have to deal with it again; to accept his reality, to move forward knowing if given another shot, he’d throw it all away.

Do things differently.

So why was he—?

The world was dark, but it had been dark for an imperceptibly long time. He was used to it, by now—it welcomed him, flooded the recesses of his mind with something akin to warmth. He didn’t need to think here. Didn’t need to be. It consumed him, made him small—meaningless. For the once King of Curses, for the abandoned boy, it was an escape. A haven. A break from the rush of survival, from the hierarchy of needs and wants and power. The darkness was numbing, all-consuming, quiet.

But this was not right.

The thrum of faint staccato—more felt than heard—fast and off-beat. The world was dark, but he was distinctly alive. His heart—something foreign in this infinite void—beat somewhere below.

Syrupy heat flooded through him, slow-moving through the body he was becoming increasingly aware of. This wasn’t supposed to happen—nothing ever happened in the dark. Much less whatever this was.

Once again, he toed the line. But he had already made his decision; if he had to do it all over again… he’d choose love.

Anger fizzled up inside, painting the darkness a repugnant red.

“Lord Sukuna.”

***

“You better start running.”

The words were slow, tentative as if slurring off an unpracticed tongue. But that timbre.

Heat lapped at Uraume’s frigid heart.

Sleep-tousled tresses fanned across the tatami. The vessel—no, Sukuna—lay blindfolded on the floor, hempen rope binding his hands and feet together from where Uraume had wrangled the body into submission.

Strong arms—now adorned with inked bands— tugged against the rope. A growl of dissatisfaction rumbled through him, rippling across the floor to shoot through Uraume’s bones.

They reached out a tender hand, slender fingers moving to set Sukuna free. “My apologies, my Lord—here, let me untie—”

Before Uraume could even process, they were being wrangled to the floor. Sukuna’s weight, warm and firm, flattened and caged them. Heaving breaths heated their right cheek—the opposite stung where it was pressed into the tatami. Big hands, veiny and thick, clenched into fists mere inches away from their head.

“I’m not warning you again.” Uraume felt more than heard the words, deep and rumbling from where Sukuna’s chest pressed into their back. A blindfolded face, contorted in rage, dropped to mouth against their ear. “Run.”

There was one rule in serving the King of Curses: obey—especially if he was not in a pleasant mood. The gritting of canines and clenching of molars did not spell a pretty picture. Wiggling out from under Sukuna, Uraume tripped on the hem of their ill-fitted kimono as they struggled to get their footing. No matter, they needed to get out.

As they struggled to open the shoji, the tatami creaked with the weight of their master awakening. Rising to take his revenge. Rising to hunt his prey.

Something clicked in Uraume, dark and ugly pulsing through their veins—something they hadn’t felt in over a thousand years.

Fear.

Between fight, flight, and freeze, running was the smartest—no, the only—option. So Uraume let their feet guide them through the twisted hallways of the estate, through the courtyard, and past the front gates. A slow, heavy presence was always just behind. Something about it was leisurely—assured. But Uraume wouldn’t dare stop. The aura was unlike anything they had felt from their master in over a thousand years. Something about it was hungry. Primal. Itching for something Uraume was scared to identify. So they let their feet carry them far away. Far away from the courtyard, the gardens, the home they had spent the last few years preparing for this very moment.

For Sukuna’s return.

By sunset, they were lost among the trees, damp moss seeping through their shitōzu and chilling their soles. Trees blurred together, heavy thunderheads lapping against the early evening fog. The smell of rain and earth filled their lungs, soothing the searing behind their ribs. They slipped on rocks and tripped over roots but did not dare stop until their body could no longer endure.

As darkness engulfed the forest, Uraume fell to their knees. They had shut everything off—all thoughts, reason, and navigation—and let their feet guide them far away. Now, hands buried in damp soil and shaky knees muddied, the realization set in.

They were alone.

And they were lost.

Heat flooded Uraume’s cheeks, fat tears welling behind tired eyelids. Squeezing their eyes shut, head hung, everything came undone.

Did Sukuna not wish to be reawakened?

Was the vessel not to his liking?

Had he forgotten their promise? Their vision for a better life? The path they forged, north, together?

Fingernails tore into roots. Tears dripped onto the backs of shaky hands. Their lungs were imploding in their chest, stomach heaving with each ragged, rapid breath.

Could they go back?

Would Sukuna be forgiving?

Was this their punishment?

A snap.

Uraume turned to face it.

Their world fell to black.

A fat knot tied the blindfold tight around their head, squeezing against their temples and digging into their eyes.

Hot breath ghosted over the side of their face, then their neck.

“Found you.”

Uraume’s chest squeezed—a mix of relief and dread coiling into uncertainties in their gut.

Big hands were guiding their face upwards, arching their back into an impossible angle.

“What do you want from me? Since you ran so well, I’ll allow you to speak.”

“M-My Lord… I don’t want anything from you.”

A hum of disbelief rumbled into Uraume’s spine from where their hunter—Sukuna—was pressed into them.

“Is that so? Why summon me then, mortal?”

Uraume didn’t know how to answer.

Because I always do.

Because that’s what I’m here for.

Because I’ve been waiting for you.

“To start our new life, my Lord… together.” The words tumbled out, timid and too-quiet.

A beat.

The thick fingers glided from their jaw down to their throat, pressing right up against their fluttering pulse.

“And, enlighten me… who do you think you are?”

“Your chef, my Lord… Uraume.” It was barely a whisper.

Taut muscles curved into Uraume’s back, and their spine went rigid. They didn’t dare move, they didn’t dare breathe.

An exhale fanned warmth against the junction of their neck and shoulder. Their pulse rang loud in their ears, stuttering as the digits dug into main arteries. Uraume could feel Sukuna’s eyes against their skin, tracing the pale blue veins running right beneath the surface. Uraume had never felt so small—so helpless.

“Uraume.”

The growl spread heat through their gut like wildfire, and the subsequent loosening of Sukuna’s fingers sent blood pumping to their head in a dizzying rush. Hours of running, the lack of food and oxygen, and the fear were getting to them—they didn’t realize they were shaking until they were being crowded into big arms, pressed against a warm chest.

“Uraume.”

It was different; soft, tentative this time. Uraume couldn’t stand it.

A gentle thumb brushed against their cheek, ushering away a tear they hadn’t realized they shed. Wet lashes rubbed against the abrasive material of the blindfold, and a large hand made gentle work of untying the damn thing. As the fabric fell away, Uraume bowed their head—subservient and professional as always, if not for the pathetic way they were being held.

Two gentle fingers lifted their chin slowly, four red eyes scanning their face with an emotion Uraume couldn’t read.

“You look… different.”

Something about the way Sukuna’s tone had changed—the way he was talking so casually as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the day hunting them for sport—lifted a weight Uraume didn’t know they were carrying. They couldn’t help but smile a little.

“As do you, my Lord.”

“I… didn’t know it was you. Didn’t sound like you. And—I couldn’t see.”

Sukuna held up the strip of fabric—the makeshift blindfold—with a half-chuckle. Uraume tried to tamp down the warmth threatening to spread through their chest.

“My apologies, my Lord—it was to subdue your vessel for the ritual.”

“Meticulous as always,” Sukuna whispered.

He brushed his thumb across the peak of their cheekbone, two red eyes trained on the movement while the other set lay fixed on theirs. He said nothing at all, yet everything at once. It had been their language for centuries, these gazes—get me out of this meeting, kill this guy, do it now… thank you, you did well, I care about you.

This look—the way his brow was furrowed ever so slightly, the way his eyes were tracing the invisible outline of the now-removed blindfold—it was I’m sorry.

The dam burst, heat flooding to their face. Uraume’s smile widened.

“For you, my Lord.”

“For us.”

Big arms hoisted them off the ground, and they couldn’t help but hold onto the collar of Sukuna’s sokutai.

Sukuna let them.

He’d let them do anything.

As the two-faced spectre walked them back to the estate, Uraume fell asleep.

***

Sukuna woke up pissed.

Aside from the restraints and the blindfold, he felt shackled—always a cog in a machine he didn’t care for.

He had promised Uraume a second chance. A do-over.

So when he was being brought back to life by some brat, Uraume nowhere in sight (or rather, earshot), he was ready to tear them to shreds. He could’ve too. He struggled with the restraints before his second set of arms came in—his captor was no amateur at tying knots—but he would’ve torn them apart with his mouth if he had to. Flesh between his teeth, bone against canines—it was where he thrived.

But he wasn’t that man anymore.

He had gotten soft.

They made him soft.

So, he let the brat have a head-start.

He had been so much kinder to his captor than he had ever been to anyone (except for his chef); yet, when he found out he had done this all to Uraume, he couldn’t quite suppress the foreign bile rising in his throat. Uraume. Sweet Uraume, who had waited for him… who had been alive alone, preparing for his arrival. Uraume who hadn’t just promised but who gave him exactly what he wanted, as they always had.

A second chance.

A second chance for them.

What was this feeling?

More than anger, beyond sadness… heavy.

He wanted to punish himself. He wanted to make Uraume punish him. He wanted to fall to their feet.

Looking at their frail frame, dwarfed by his arms, he made a pact then to never go back.

He was done with this life.

He met his end.

He was grateful for it—now, it was time to start anew.

***

Uraume awoke to rustling.

Gently laid on a wooden bench, they could only see Sukuna’s back as he disrobed. Moonlight and the warm glow of the torches bathed rippling muscle in golden light. The king folded his robes with precise care, and Uraume filled with pride.

They sat up slowly, the old wood creaking below them. Sukuna turned at the sound and his sharp features softened at the sight. He brought his folded robes over, placing them on the bench next to Uraume before kneeling before them. His hands hovered above the sash of their kimono, and the way he was looking up at them made Uraume’s heart hammer in their chest.

“You may.”

Sukuna was careful with it—despite being muddied and too-large on their frame, he pried the kimono off with gentle fingers, letting it pool around their waist on the bench.

Four red eyes roamed the expanse of pale chest, drinking in every new feature of Uraume’s new vessel—the sharp jut of their shoulders, the supple flesh of their lower stomach, the scar on their left hip. Calloused fingertips hovered just above their hipbone, nose bridge scrunching pensively.

Uraume watched as Sukuna bowed his head, warm lips brushing along the raised silvered skin. The whispered touch sent chills through their legs and up their chest, thighs trembling involuntarily. Sukuna stilled the motion with a large hand, pinning their left leg down with a soft hum.

“Smell different, too.”

“My apologies, my Lord.” The words were half-hearted, head reeling.

“It’s no matter.” Sukuna rose to his feet, holding out a large hand—one of four—to help them up.

Uraume took it gently, hoping Sukuna didn’t feel the tremor running through them at the contact. Red eyes raked over their newly nude frame, running from the freshly-kissed flesh down to the tips of their toes. A low hum cut through the quiet, Sukuna’s gaze transfixed right below their navel.

Without a word, they were being pulled forward, large strides guiding Uraume through the winding starlit path. Steam from a large bath curled around stone, golden in the dim torchlight. With a squeeze of their clasped hands, Sukuna wasted no time in entering, wading to the far end to make himself comfortable. In the low light, there was no mistaking it—Sukuna Ryomen was a God among mortals, chiseled in the image of self-perfection. Two large arms folded over his tattooed chest while the other set splayed along the stone edge of the bath, the portrait of leisure.

“Coming? You can stare at me better from here.” White canines glinted.

Uraume flushed, stepping tentatively into the hot water with a bowed head. It wasn’t easy to see their footing in the moonlight, but Sukuna was a patient man—when it came to them. He helped them over with a hand, tsk-ing when they moved to take a seat next to him. Sukuna pulled Uraume in by their arm, crowding them onto strong thighs.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Uraume’s face flushed—the steam, the heat of the water, and the intensity of Sukuna’s gaze had their heart slamming around behind their ribs.

“My apologies, my Lord.”

“I’m not your master, ‘raume.”

Uraume swallowed hard. The way Sukuna was looking down at them—the softness in his eyes—it was disarming.

“My apologies… Sukuna.”

A toothy grin had their heart beating off-kilter. The man from earlier, and the man before them now, could not be consolidated in their mind. And yet, it was him. It had always been him.

“Let me care for you.”

“Really, you don’t need to—”

“Hush. I’ve already decided.”

A beat.

“Do you trust me, Uraume?”

“With my life, m—” they swallowed. “Sukuna.”

“Good. I’m going to touch you now.”

His eyes bore into theirs, a large hand moving to hover over their cheek.

“Uraume. Tell me you understood.”

“Yes—I…” fuck they were winded already. Stupid fucking bath. “I understand. I would like that.”

“Good.”

His palm was hot and calloused, dwarfing their head as his fingertips kissed their temples. His palm dragged down across their cheek, long thick fingers once again guiding their face up, up, up—

Sukuna’s steady breaths ghosted over their upper lip.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” The words were quiet. Tentative. An offer, more than a statement, something fledgling and pure.

“I would like that too.”

His lips were soft. Warm and large, they brushed feather-light as if fearful that any more would break them. Uraume’s eyes fluttered shut, pressing in tentatively, smaller hands coming up to cup the jaw of the man they had loved for centuries. Sukuna’s pulse beneath their fingertips was stuttering, and Uraume felt his Adam’s apple dip as his lips parted at the contact. They took the opportunity to press against him further, to spur him on—they weren’t fragile. They had been waiting for this—whatever this was. They wanted it so bad it hurt.

Two big hands flew to just under Uraume’s armpits, holding them closer as fingertips skimmed down soft sides. Their breath hitched, and Sukuna wasted no time in parting their lips further. A warm forked tongue lapped at the seams of their mouth, teasing their lower front teeth before plunging in. Uraume suckled it in, humming softly as Sukuna forced their jaw open.

He wasted no time in mapping the roof of their mouth, tentatively pressing against the back of their tongue. Those big hands pulled Uraume closer, grabbing at the fat of their ass to pull them flush to his chest.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

A little whine escaped their throat.

“Don’t do that.” Sukuna mumbled into their lips. “I’ll get hard.”

Uraume’s heart hammered in their chest. It was impossibly hot now—the water, the heat radiating off Sukuna, and the blood rushing southward was dizzying.

Uraume wanted to be sexy—to say something sexy, something assured, something to make Sukuna’s head spin like theirs. But the words died on their tongue.

“That’s okay.”

“No.” Sukuna’s gaze was firm, cutting through the haze threatening to swallow them. Grounding them. “I’m making it up to you.”

Big hands forced open slim thighs underwater. A fat tongue—one Uraume didn’t notice until now—licked a stripe from their belly button down the trail of short white hair. Sukuna pressed his mouth to theirs, muffling their gasps as his stomach mouth made contact with Uraume’s stiffening cock. Uraume bit down on Sukuna’s lower lip to stifle a groan as the tip of his fat lower tongue teased at their sensitive slit.

Sukuna groaned, head dropping to their shoulder. “Fuck. Taste so fucking good.”

They bucked forward involuntarily, those big hands holding them there as the lower mouth sucked Uraume in. A coil wound tight in their gut as Sukuna enveloped them underwater, soft suction and heat drawing out beads of salty precum. Uraume gasped, nails scratching down Sukuna’s neck to find purchase in his fat pecs.

Their stomach tensed. Those hands were crowding them forward again, guiding them back and forth in languid thrusts. They were being used like a toy, and all they could do was sit there and let Sukuna play with them. Uraume’s head lolled back, the pale column of throat inviting Sukuna’s nose and lips to their pulse. Sukuna licked a stripe from shoulder to jawline as Uraume shakily fucked his lower mouth.

“That’s it… ride my tongue, darling.”

The words rolled off those sinful lips so easily, reverberating through Uraume’s throat and jolting pleasure straight to their dick. They were helpless, like this—surrounded. Sukuna’s lips pressed sloppy kisses to their jaw, twin cocks stirring beneath the fat of Uraume’s ass. Their hips were moving on their own now, snapping shallowly into the warm mouth awaiting them underwater. Precum was flowing out of them, coaxed out by the warm, waiting tongue.

“Can’t—” It was a broken thing, pathetic and half-gasped.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Rough hands spanned the meat of their ass, massaging it gently as they pressed Uraume close. Pubic bone met abdomen, and Uraume saw stars. Their cock hit the back of a throat, and it swallowed. Their eyes squeezed shut; stars danced behind their eyelids as release washed through them, cock jumping weakly as that godforsaken mouth milked them dry.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped against their jaw, pupils blown.

He swallowed down their release, fat tongue stroking their sensitive cock. Uraume winced, moving to pull out, but large hands pinned them in place.

“Shh. I’m not done with you yet.”

***

“’kuna…”

They were so beautiful, like this—spread out on their tummy, cheek pressed into the now-rumpled sheets with their ass propped up for him.

He had wrung them dry in the baths, washed their skin reverently, and gotten them dirty all over again. He carried Uraume in, cum cooling on their skin, just to lick it off in bed before having them spill all over themselves once more.

He had explored their body for hours—birds chirped outside, but he didn’t have a care in the world. There was no place he’d rather be than here, three fingers and a tongue deep in his one and only.

They were shaking, drooling all over his—their—bed, a thin string of clear precum connecting their throbbing cock to the sheets.

Sukuna was so hard it hurt.

He sucked at the puffy rim of Uraume’s ass, pink and twitching as he curled his thick fingers to press against their sensitive spot once more.

Uraume bit at the sheets, gurgling as their hips pressed back into his face and hand.

“So needy,” Sukuna drawled, as if he hadn’t been edging himself for the better part of an hour now. His cocks were red and angry from where he was grinding them against the sheets.

“Can’t anymore—”

“One more, darling.”

“’kuna—”

A whine.

A plea.

Sukuna’s cocks twitched, and he felt himself getting close again. He reached one of his hands down—the one that wasn’t holding Uraume open or fucking into their little hole—to squeeze at his base.

Don’t cum.

Don’t cum.

Fuck.

He thrusted against the sheets shakily, biting into Uraume’s thigh to stifle a whimper.

They keened, tight hole fluttering around his thick, spit-coated digits.

Fuck they’d feel so good.

But this was about Uraume, not him.

He had four fists and an imagination. He could live.

Yet, the way they were crying out for him undeniably had his heart squeezing and his cocks twitching. He extracted his fingers gingerly, relishing in the wet drag of each one against their tight rim. Uraume whined, clenching around nothing, as they shifted their hips back with ragged breaths.

“’kuna…”

Sukuna shifted up to press a reassuring kiss to their shoulder, fat cock heads nudging against their gaping hole and perineum. He hissed out as Uraume rocked back into the feeling, reaching down to slide his cocks between the mounds of their ass instead.

“Shh… I’m here. What’s wrong?”

He punctuated his sentences with soft kisses to the shell of their ear, brushing back pale bangs to get a good look at them. Pale lashes clumped together wetly, fat tears rolling down pale cheeks as bleary eyes met his.

His heart squeezed.

Precum dribbled onto Uraume’s lower back.

“I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise.”

Uraume hiccupped, nodding dumbly as they sniffled back tears. Reaching a shaky hand back, slender fingers spread their ass open.

“You too… ‘kuna.”

Sukuna was going to ruin them.

He wanted to split them open.

Wanted to brand their insides with his cum.

Wanted to pull their hair back and mount them properly, kiss the deepest parts of their body, mold them to his shape.

But he needed to keep a level head.

“Are you sure?”

Uraume laughed wetly, and Sukuna cursed the Gods for not making him an artist; they were made to be a muse. He wanted that smile to last forever.

“Yes…”

Sukuna pressed another kiss to the junction of their jaw and neck, before pressing another to the short hair on their nape.

“I’ll go slow, but… I’m at my limit too.”

He took his upper cock in hand, rubbing the fat head against Uraume’s fluttering hole, smearing the spit-slicked entrance with his precum. Each time it snagged, he couldn’t help but hiss out through gritted teeth; he needed to bite down on the back of his wrist to muffle the sound.

Gently—oh, so gently—he pressed forward, and fuck.

Uraume was so warm.

The two hands gripping Uraume’s ass flew to the mattress, grabbing at the sheets with white knuckles as he held himself back from snapping his hips forward. Every fibre in him was screaming—mount, breed, fuck, maim, mate, move.

Move.

Move.

He was trembling with the effort to stay still. To let them adjust. But their tight little hole was fluttering around him, Uraume slack-jawed with the intrusion despite it being only the tip.

“Can… you take more?”

The words were hoarse and pathetic, his throat like sandpaper where he strained with the effort of not screaming.

Uraume, drooling on the sheets, whimpered.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sukuna a thousand years ago would have already pumped Uraume full; would have fucked enough cum into them to get them pregnant, cock or not. He would have taken his own pleasure, bullied both cocks into their tight hole, blood and spit slicking the way—their pain be damned.

Sukuna clenched his teeth.

He was not that man anymore.

“I need to hear you say it.”

For everything he had done wrong in his life, Sukuna hoped this would atone; the effort it was taking him to be this careful was herculean. Saintly.

“Yes—please… ‘kuna…”

Sukuna slowly pushed in further. He went slowly, listening for every gasp, for every whimper. He stopped at every hiccup, pressed a kiss for every whine.

“There.”

The word was almost reverent.

He was fully seated in Uraume now, chest pressed to their back as he caged them in with big arms.

“You’re taking me so well. So tight… so warm.”

Uraume whimpered, bearing down on the girthy cock deep inside. The hand that had guided him inside dropped to rub Uraume’s stomach, ghosting over the little bulge in their navel.

“So full of me, darling… feel.”

Sukuna guided their hand down, down, down, to feel the bulge of their stomach and the wetness between their legs, split open, spit-slicked, and gushing precum.

Uraume keened, tightening up, and Sukuna pressed a hot kiss to the side of their head.

“Shh… I’ve got you. I’m going to move now, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

Sukuna drew out languidly, four eyes rolling back as he felt the drag of that tight little rim up his shaft. He pressed back in with the same care, lapping away at the fat tears rolling down his lover’s cheeks. Uraume was blissed out, moans vibrating through Sukuna’s chest and bones.

“Faster… break me.”

Sukuna’s heart squeezed, and he swallowed back a groan as his hips snapped forward with increased vigor.

He was trying to play nice, but fuck.

Uraume was killing him.

He plowed them steady into the bed, grunting into their ear and squeezing his eyes shut to preserve the little sanity he was clinging onto. If he had to look at that face again, he’d cum.

Sukuna was many evil things, but he would never let himself cum before his partner did.

Uraume’s legs gave out. Sukuna fucked them through it, one cock plunging into their trembling form while the second nudged between prone thighs. Between the hot squeeze of Uraume’s pliant hole and the feeling of his second cock rubbing against his lover’s slicked shaft and balls, Sukuna wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer.

Uraume whimpered into the mattress, babbling incoherent, broken praises. Sukuna lifted a leg for some leverage, pounding into them just a little deeper to fuck at their sensitive spot deep inside. His full balls slapped wetly against their ass with each thrust, and the noise alone had his head reeling.

“Shit—fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—won’t last,” he hissed against their neck, breathing in the heady scent of sex and sweat and them. “Come for me baby… please, please, please—”

“Can’t—”

Sukuna growled, reaching a hand down to find their wet little cock—sticky and semi-flaccid, having cum without him.

“Fuck. Yes, you can. And you will.”

Their lover whined into the sheets, cock stirring with weak interest as Sukuna fisted it in time with his thrusts. He was so close—so wet that he could have slipped his second cock inside—

He bit down on Uraume’s shoulder so hard he drew blood.

They gasped and tightened, cock twitching weakly in his grasp.

They were cumming—

But nothing was coming out.

Uraume ground back into him as they shot blanks, and Sukuna’s mind went white hot. His eyes rolled back into his skull, pleasure jolting down his thighs and into the tips of his toes. The bed groaned with each pound into Uraume’s bullied prostate, Sukuna’s second cock weeping between their trembling thighs.

It took one, two thrusts before he was gasping into bloodied flesh, cocks pumping rope after rope of thick semen into his lovers’ guts and onto the back of their balls. Cum dribbled out through pathetic whimpers, his hips stuttering as globs of cream formed a milky ring around the base of his shaft.

Uraume keened, and fuck that felt good.

He held them with all four arms as his cock stilled inside, breathing in their scent and kissing around the tender bite. He gently pulled out, shifting to drag Uraume into his chest as he lay on his side next to them.

“I love you.”

It was quiet, pressed to their hair. He wasn’t sure if Uraume was in any state to comprehend the depth of what he was offering, but it felt right.

Uraume hummed into the blankets, and before he could process it, pale hands were pulling his face down, thumbs brushing away tears he didn’t realize he had shed.

“I love you too, Sukuna. I always have.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Somnambula

Synopsis: Alethaine Ancunin is sleepwalking and sees visions of her future

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, visions of the future

TW: mentions of period blood and CSA. Also, Alethaine stabs Astarion with her butterfly-knife

This was inspired by @vixstarria and this art. And also, here we can finally meet Alethaine's husband-to-be Elren Goldenroot! Also, if you wonder who are the older dhampirs Alethaine sees in her visions - those are main characters of Dhampirs of the Sword Coast: Theris the Bard and Mierni Decarios, Gale's adoptive son.

Alethaine's age - 17 years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine has a nightmare.

She runs through a dark field. The skies are pitch black, but it’s not night – it’s as if the world collapsed into the abyss. A blood-red whirlpool shines in the distance hypnotizing and driving her insane.

For some reason, it’s difficult to run, as if something made Alethaine too clumsy and slow. 

Someone grabs her arm. An elf in armor takes off his helmet. He yells at her in Elven and tries to make her return somewhere safe but Alethaine sets herself free.

Something important needs to be done.

Something bad will happen if she doesn’t go.

The elf kisses her forehead and then unsheathes his sword. Its hand is adorned with a violet star – and Alethaine knows this weapon is ancient even by Elven standards.

Alethaine looks to the North, to the blood-red whirlpool.

When the first horn sounds, the dead will join the fight.

When the second horn sounds, the undead will follow into the battle.

And when the third horn sounds, the mortals will join the fray.

**

A Dwarf named Nandaeck Flintflayer is awakened by his wife, Ruligith. It’s always dark in the Underground part of the Daggerlake, but it’s also deep at night on the surface.

“Someone is in the house,” she whispers. 

“What? Nonsense, go to sleep.”

“I tell you someone is in the house! I saw a shadow!”

“You are just bored because Rutha has moved away!”

Ruligith kicks her husband – ever since their daughter decided she wanted to live in Thornhold with her aunt, her parents found out they have too much free time to quarrel.

Nandaeck takes the lamp and goes down to the kitchen where the mysterious shadow was spotted by his wife.

“I told you, woman, there is nothing… Fuck!”

A teenage elf in a black dress is walking on the ceiling swinging her butterfly knife. From time to time she stops, her eyes shut and feet bare, and stabs something invisible. 

“Don’t yell!” Ruligith mutters angrily. “If you wake her up she will get hurt!”

Finally, Nandaeck fully wakes up to recognize the intruder.

“It’s you, Alethaine? Well, sorry, but Rutha moved out.”

“It’s not like they were close friends.”

“I think they were?”

“Trust me, girls are friendly with each other even if they secretly desire each other’s demise. Alethaine, sweetheart, could you please get down?”

Alethaine, still asleep, turns around and walks to the opposite corner of the ceiling. The dwarf tries to grab the elf’s hand but both he and the unexpected guest are short.

“Give me the broom!”

“Are you going to beat her? I am not treating the bite wounds! Keep an eye on her, I will go to her parents.”

“Don’t leave me alone with her!”

“She is just a girl, she is the same age as Rutha.”

“Yes, and?! I don’t remember Rutha walking on ceilings, having fangs, and doing whatever the fuck this one does in the ruins!”

Suddenly Ruligith gets silent.

“You know what? You go, I'll stay with her. And you better pick up her mother.” 

“I think Astarion will do a better job at taking her off the ceiling.”

“I told you to get Tiriel! She is at home, I saw her in the tavern.”

**

Whatever it is, it’s too painful. Alethaine is exhausted but the dead keep marching towards the blood-red whirlpool. Something terrible has happened. Something really bad.

She turns away and sees the elven army fighting creatures so grotesque that Alethaine feels a primal horror any time she sees them. 

The same elf from before fights them with his sword. Alethaine experiences another wave of fear.

Fear for him.

Strong hands grab her from both sides. A tiefling in red armor. A dark-skinned human with a wizard staff.

“Alethaine, your husband is doing pretty well, we need to keep going!” The wizard says baring his dhampir fangs. “Theris! Protect our backs!”

“Yes, for someone who has never led an army or ruled a kingdom, he is doing very well!” The tiefling adds. “Come on, cousin, we have demons to kill, brothers to avenge, and … well… some mortals to save?”

**

“I have no idea how she managed to leave the house without us noticing!” Tiriel apologies.

Tiriel enters the dwarven kitchen. Alethaine now just stands on the ceiling playing with the butterfly knife. Her mouth is half open, her fangs visible.

A thin string of blood traces her pale leg.

Tiriel approaches her daughter. Thanks to the short floors in the dwarven house Tiriel’s head is at the same level as Alethaine’s.

“Kitten, let’s go home.”

Alethaine shakes her head. Then she frowns and bares her fangs. 

Astarion sighs.

There is no way Astarion can stay home when Alethaine is in trouble, Tiriel thinks.

“Astarion, climb up there and pick her up. But don’t wake her!” she whispers.

“Oh, that’s why you didn’t want me to come,” he says, noticing the blood on Alethaine’s legs.

“Exactly! Trust me, it’s beyond embarrassing for her already - if she knew…”

Astarion walks up to the ceiling and lifts Alethaine up. Whatever Alethaine dreams about it’s not peaceful because the moment her father touches her she makes a screeching sound and stabs him with her knife.

“Princess, that hurts.” Astarion extracts the blade from his chest and the wound immediately heals. “And now I will have to repair this shirt.”

Tiriel gets on the table and grabs her daughter’s hand trying to take the knife away.

Finally, they manage to get her down. Alethaine stands on the floor still muttering something in Elven and baring her fangs, as if something were threatening her. 

Astarion lifts her up again and now she sleeps in his arms like a baby.

“I am very sorry,” Tiriel says. “She never sleepwalked!”

“That’s all right, blood washes away easily,” the dwarf says. “When I had my first blood, I beat the shit out of my older brother, and he was a warrior, mind you.”

“I think I experienced rage for the first time during those days.”

“At least she didn’t kill anyone. Or did she?”

“I doubt it.”

**

Alethaine is no longer in the dark field. She is in a small village shrine, probably Timora’s, but she isn't sure.

A naked elf of maybe fourteen or fifteen years, barely an adolescent by their race standards, presses his back against the wooden wall. He cries silently pressing his pale legs together. Hair the color of molten gold covers his face.

“If you tell anyone, anyone, Elren,'' a man in a cleric tunic approaches him. “I will make sure none of your family makes it out alive. I will do the same I did to you to your cousins. And I will murder your aunt and uncle. You will be all alone, Elren, like the pathetic orphan you are.''

“Don’t… Don’t hurt them,” he whispers in Elven and the cleric slaps him.

“Speak Common, you fucking fairy.”

“I will not tell anyone,” the boy says. “I promise.”

Alethaine feels such a wave of fury that she wants to flay that cleric and put his head on a spike. But she isn’t there. It all happened years ago.

The boy turns his head and Alethaine has an uncanny feeling when he sees her.

He has the same blue eyes the elf in the armor had. 

**

“So, I didn’t go anywhere? I was just walking around the yard?” Alethaine asks suspiciously. 

“Yes, you were in the yard,” Astarion says. “You didn't go anywhere and no one saw you.”

“Good. Because if I did go somewhere, I would be outta this town!”

Astarion chuckles. “No, no one saw you. Your mum brought you back and helped you change, that’s all.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Trust me, Alethaine, you weren’t a responsible adult from the start. We had to do the same for a few years before you learnt to do things yourself.”

“No, I don’t want to hear more. Did you see anything?”

“No, your mother told me what happened, but I didn’t see anything.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She rushes into the house. 

“Whose idea was it to give her the butterfly knife?” Tiriel says.

“Yours.”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“You gave it to her for her fifth birthday,” Astarion recalls.

“I was sure it was you!”

“I ordered it at the smith in Secomber. But the idea was yours.”

‘Do you think we can hide it somewhere?”

“Darling, she is seventeen, I don’t think we can take things away from her.” Astarion suddenly feels a very similar embarrassment to Alethaine’s. “Tiriel… Do I… Do I have to know something important about what she’s going through?”

Tiriel shakes her head. “Well, she just feels awful and maybe will lash at you for something stupid. But it seems like it won't happen any time soon? I asked an elven cleric in Secomber, and she said it happens once a decade. ”

“She is a dhampir, we can’t know for sure how it works for her.”

“Imagine having to go through this shit once a month! Human fertility is a curse, not a blessing. Oh, and if she asks you to bring her something, just do it. And if you see spots of blood, ignore them.”

Astarion kisses her cheek. “And we need to make sure she can’t leave the house if she sleepwalks again.”

**

“Elren, get inside,” an elderly half-elf softly touches his nephew’s shoulder. “Come on, this place isn't that bad.”

Elren nods but doesn’t move. His uncle (technically he was his mother’s third cousin but it doesn’t really matter considering he has no other relatives) gives up and returns to his new house, much poorer than the one he owned in their old village. His human wife and daughters chatter, but even with elven hearing Elren barely hears anything.

No matter how many times Uncle says nothing was Elren’s fault, the young elf still thinks he is guilty. Guilty that they had to leave everything and basically run from the angry crowd. “How dare those fairies accuse the cleric of such terrible crimes.” Guilty that his family had to go through all this mess to try to hold the cleric accountable. The guilt that it all happened to him, and no matter how much he rubs his skin, the dirt doesn't go away.  

He will forget, his human aunt says. He will forget because elves live for centuries and no one can remember bad things for so long. By the time his three cousins and their descendants will be in their graves, a still young Elren will forget what happened to him in his distant childhood.

He hopes she is right. 

The seventeen-year-old elf lies on his back spreading his arms. His mother was half a sun elf, half a moon elf, father was Or’Tel’Quessir, a Wood Elf. They say some of his ancestors were star elves, but no one knows for sure. He feels himself stitched into different parts like a ragged doll – even the Elven language is his second. He is trying to learn it from books and by talking to his uncle, but it is all fake for him. He is somehow less of an elf than his relative.

The trance takes Elren easily. He is young and barely re-lives anything. His dreams are weird and grotesque – he thinks it’s just memories of his past lives.

But could they be visions of the future?

He wields a silver sword in his hand and slaughter monstrosities that could only be spawns of the Abyss itself. The skies are dark and only a red whirlpool in the distance casts a gloomy light on the cursed ground. 

One horn – for the dead.

The second, for the undead.

And the third for the living. 

And then Elren sees an elven woman.

She dances.

Her movements are weird – as if she were half-undead – but gracious at the same time. Her beauty is of a macabre nature and Elren wishes to approach her but can’t.

Did he meet her in his past lives? Will he meet her in the future?

The shadows – no, the resurrected corpses, follow her and imitate her movements.

She dances with the dead. 

Her silver hair is the color of moonlight. Her dress is black like the darkest night and her skin is pale like one of an undead. She is both the witch and the queen, the shadow and the silver light. Her fingers are thin and long and the young elf imagines them tracing his cheek and hands. 

It's a deep, dark night when he returns back to reality. Elren sits in silence trying to grasp the image of the elven woman, but she fades away.

But Elren Goldenroot knows that, should he ever meet this necromancer, he will recognize her.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

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@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

@nyx-knox

@jessaryss

[vanillaxoshi]

Elements Seperated - Human form not (really) needed

It’s nice, Gempa thinks, waking up to the warmth of your family, feeling their presence, knowing they’re all here. Safe and sound, but he needs to get up. Slowly not to wake his siblings, the earth spirit made his way out from under the blanket to welcome a new day. He glances at the clock on the table. It’s still early in the morning.

And it seems his older brother already got up too. Old habits die hard huh?

Slipping off the bed, Gempa’s form shift and changes. There’s no need for a detailed human form right away, just whatever will let them function. Both spirits ended up just looking like vaguely humanoid constructs decorated by their elements, but nobody will mind.

“Mrgh… Guys?”

Their master, Boboiboy asked in his sleepy morning voice. He must have woken up because of their absence.

“Yes, we’re here Ori” Gempa touched his forehead against Boboiboy’s, shards of mineral gently brushing Boboiboy’s bed hair out of his face.

“What day is it?”

“It’s a Sunday. You can sleep in if you want”

Boboiboy looks at his current state, surrounded by the still asleep orb elementals, chuckling.

“Yeah, I think I’ll have to be in bed for a bit”

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me”

A look in the fridge tells him he’ll probably need to go grocery shopping today, but for now, this is plenty ingredients for both breakfast and lunch, there are also leftovers from yesterday.

At the kitchen area, he spots Hali opening the cupboard with a limb made of red lightning, bringing out a bag of coffee instead of cocoa.

“Coffee?”

Gempa nods. He usually prefers tea but coffee doesn’t sound half bad this morning. The lightning spirit hits a few buttons, and got the coffee machine working. The delightful smell spreads throughout the house, successfully rousing another of their sibling out of sleep.

“Good morning you glorified chandelier”

“Good morning to you too, Hymenopus Coronatus”

No, Solar didn’t cast a spell on Hali. The two are simply calling each other by what they look like now. Gempa goes back to cooking after saying his own good morning to the spirit of light, seeing no reason to worry about a fight.

“I smelled coffee”

“Yeah, making some right now. Want any?”

“Obviously”

The sudden increase in lighting for a brief moment tells huge spirit of earth that Solar just had his coffee.

A warm beverage goes well with this peaceful morning, Gempa thought, as one of his arms brought the cup to his ‘mouth’. Just this finishing touch and breakfast should be ready. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, he could hear the fastest game of rock paper scissors ever happen, and Solar walking towards the door.

It’s natural one would prefer nice home cooked meals over rations, and Fang certainly isn’t the best chef, so eating at Tok Aba and Boboiboy’s house it is then. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, it’s embarrassing. He can give a compliment when it’s due though and it shall be expressed in actions.

But either he misremembered, or something bad has happened, as the one who opened the door… Whoever it is definitely isn’t human. A body made of light with no discernible features save for limbs, hands with blackened tips, and worst of all is their head. It was like one of those ‘biblically accurate angels’ he was shown by Gopal once, golden rings intertwined together, covered in silver eyes and mystical patterns. In the middle of it all, is a white dwarf.

It took Fang a few seconds to process what in the name of stars he just saw, but he reached for the door handle and pushes it back.

“My apologies, it seems I’ve gotten the wrong house-“ the alien said as politely as possible, while frantically trying to close the door.

“Wait a minute- Child it is I- Wait no, Fang it’s me, Solar!” The light spirit was also frantically trying to convince Fang it’s him, while keeping the door open.

Breakfast was nice, but Fang wished he had a warning about the elementals not bothering to look human today.

“Please, transform properly before opening the door?”

“Sorry about that. You know caffeine has no effect on us”

The purple haired alien could only sigh and bury his head in his hands. Now he knows why all those ancient civilizations were so spooked by the elementals

- By your pal, SP Anon

Drew the scenarios :)))

[fili-urzudel]

Dating Bofur Headcanons

This may be a bit unusual, but I'm inaugurating my blog with a Bofur post because he does not get anywhere near the love and appreciation he deserves. Also, I have a lot of headcanons for a lot of characters. I'm not running out for a while.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, inebriation

Word Count: 0.7k

- You first meet when the party has stopped in a town along the way near the beginning of their journey

- They're in the pub, making the worst sort of ruckus but at least their food and ale will make a pretty piece of coin for the barkeep

- He's... a little intoxicated when you get to know each other

- But that's really just because he's been (very obviously) staring at you since you walked in

- You think it's a bit strange that a dwarf is showing such obvious interest in you, but you'll go with it

- Unlike many other men who have shown interest, he keeps a respectful distance, no touching

- He's just attempting to flirt with you and flushing when you flirt back

- "You're quite funny," you giggle, oblivious to the way his companions stare at the interaction with confused awe. "Emil, some more pints for me and my friend here," you call to the bartender, settling a hand on his shoulder.

- You hardly even noticed that you brushed past the end of his braid

- When you look back at him, he seems to have temporarily frozen

- "You alright?"

- He gives you a tight grin and nods before laughing nervously. "Aye, just... may have had too many pints already," he excuses.

- "Ah, is there any such thing?" You joke.

- He chills out again pretty quickly (you know, with the central nervous system depression and all)

- As Thorin is rounding them all up to go find someplace to sleep, he decides he wants to leave you something to remember him by

- He pulls a mostly-finished whittled doll from some pocket in his coat, you weren't watching close enough to see exactly where it came from

- "Here," he says, nearly slurring, pressing the doll into your palm. "It's a gift for you."

- You raise your eyebrows with a smile, studying the doll from every angle. he was quite talented, actually

- "Thank you, Bofur," you say, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek

- Mans goes RED

- You think he stutters out a good evening before he's dragged off by Bombur and Bifur

- He tags along with Bilbo on his way back to the Shire

- When Gloin asks why, he has one simple answer

- "Well, my friend, I believe I made a long-term deposit of my own," Bofur replies, briefly removing his hat to smooth his hair.

- He knows, he knows it's a long shot

- You're a human and you might not even remember him

- But there's something about that night, the way you kissed his cheek, that he just can't shake

- And he wants to get as far away from the place where his king died as he can

- He just so happens to see you entering your house as he comes into town, your hair conveniently worn in just the same style as when you first met

- He wanders around for a few hours, not wanting to bother you when you've only just returned home or seem too eager

- When you open your door for whomever is knocking, you have to look down to realize that someone is actually there.

- "Good day, las--my lady," the strange dwarf says, hat pressed to his chest.

- "Good... day?" You greet. "I'm sorry, have I met you?"

- His face falls for a moment before he seems to have an idea

- He secures his hat back on his head, smiling up at you hopefully

- "Bofur!" You cry, surprised and delighted.

- "At your service, my lady," he bows briefly

- "Whatever are you doing here?"

- "I still have your figurine," you proclaim proudly, showing him in. "I hope you don't mind too terribly, but I made her some clothes..."

- You get to talking and, well, your town has always needed a toymaker

- So he sets up shop right next to your business; you're close enough to some mountains, at least

- You two become sort of local legend, in the "they're the strangest bunch we've had around for a long while" kind of way

- Not that either of you mind

- You love your eventual husband that's quite a bit shorter than you

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: Feitan speculation

so i was thinking about feitan in particular today and i came up with a crazy idea for the other forms of his hatsu.

we've only seen one form which is rising sun which, in another theory, ties into bonolenov's jupiter which is a completely different topic that i will talk about LATER.

but what if the other forms are the forms of a star's life cycle. Rising sun was a healthy star, at its prime and packing the least amount of punch. at least in terms of a formed star.

speculate then that other forms include red giants, white dwarfs, supernovas, nebulas, a fuckin neutron star.

feitan implies that the rising sun is the weaker- possibly weakest- form of the ability so what if he had. now i haven't been keeping up with astronomy lately. but stars can get much. much bigger than that.

on the other hand we have the idea that he can summon a variety of damage inflicting moves based on the flavor of pain.

i also like this but i struggle to come up with anything equally or more devastating to the fucking sun.

one i did think of was perfect vacuum where the aura transmutes an enclosed space into zero pressure and the target either suffocates to death or explodes from internal water pressure.

idk how plausible that is but it is fairly instant.

another option that came to me right as i was writing this was that it's poetic metaphor? Feitan said 'rising sun' specifically which is japan's symbol, currently associated with a lot of not so great things. like he reads very morbid literature/poems and chooses metaphors and then verbalizes them and whatever happens happens.

... i might think some more about this one.

i wanna see feitan lose his shit. i want to see him put a hole in the side of that barge :) togashi. please. hear my words.

[princesssarisa]

My thoughts on the teaser trailer for Disney's live action Snow White:

*It seems that Disney may have changed their approach to marketing this movie. Previously, they put so much emphasis on how this Snow White will be different, fresh, and more "progressive" than the animated classic, and they got so much negative backlash for it. But this trailer doesn't show much of anything that's different from the original film. It shows famous scenes, other scenes that might not be identical but are very similar... The new selling point seems to be "See how faithfully we've recreated the original in live action and CGI!" Maybe they've realized that "See how we're improving on the original!" has gotten more negative response than positive, so they're changing their marketing strategy.

*That said, I think the clip we see of Snow White and the dwarfs in "Whistle While You Work" strongly hints at a "feminist" rewrite. Instead of cleaning for the dwarfs, it seems Snow White will teach them to do their own cleaning instead. I can already imagine the divisiveness about this. Disney will probably promote it as progressive and empowering, and many fans will agree, "She doesn't let them use her as a housekeeper, she makes them shape up and clean for themselves," etc. But other fans will hate it and passionately defend the original film: the dwarfs do an enormous favor for Snow White by letting her live with them, at greater at risk to themselves if the Queen should find her, so the least she can do in return is take care of their house for them. Besides, when she thinks they must be orphaned children before she meets them, her choice to surprise them with a clean house and a good dinner shows her kindness and compassion. At any rate, the dwarfs and Snow White cleaning the house together isn't a brand-new idea anyway: the 1955 German film already has a sequence like that.

*I don't think Walt would care much for Snow White's costume. The animated Snow White's skirt is a pale yellow, almost ivory or cream colored, and her bodice and sleeves are subdued shades of dark and medium blue. This was part of Walt's vision of the whole movie as having elegantly subdued colors. The live action Snow White's dress is a little garish by comparison: maybe in the finished film it will work, but it looks more cartoonish than the cartoon version.

*It looks as if Gal Gadot will be a hammier Queen than the animated version: more of a Prima Donna than a Grim Sorceress.

*I'm reserving judgment on the CGI dwarfs until we see more of them in action.

*The think I'm probably the most curious about is how they'll handle the final part of the story. They're obviously not cutting the poisoned apple: the trailer includes dramatic shots of its creation and of the Queen giving it to Snow White. Yet the interviews have repeatedly said "The Prince doesn't save her in this version." Now, it seems that Snow White's new love interest, Jonathan, isn't a prince, but if he still wakes her from Sleeping Death in the end, and it's only "progressive" because he's a commoner, that would be false advertising. So what will happen? Will it take the Mirror, Mirror approach and avoid having Snow White eat the apple altogether? Or take the Snow White and the Huntsman approach and have her wake earlier than in the original film, then directly battle the Queen and defeat her at the climax? Or the Legend of Snow White approach, where in "death" her spirit helps her love interest to defeat the Queen? Or the Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs approach, where her love interest sacrifices his life to revive her, but then her kiss brings him back to life? Or will Disney shock us and do something completely original? Whatever they do, I hope they don't take the Mirror, Mirror approach. The very heart of the animated Snow White is the love that forms between Snow White and the dwarfs, culminating in the dwarfs' heartbreaking grief at her "death" and ecstasy when she revives. To cut that in the name of "empowering" Snow White, as Mirror, Mirror did back in 2012, would be the biggest insult to the original film's legacy.

We'll just have to wait and see what the movie is like. I'm not expecting greatness, but we'll see.

[thewertsearch]

Trolls Made Our Universe: The Analysis

Let's talk about it.

Looking back, it's pretty clear that this was always our destination. The comic's scope has been on an upward trajectory for thousands of pages, and the Ultimate Alchemy hype has been building since midway through Act 4.

Hell, even I thought the planet I theorized about was just going to be a stepping stone to something bigger. Homestuck just keeps escalating - we might not even stop here, although I can't predict what the next step would be, since we're working with multiple varieties of multiverse already.

Anyway, this reveal confirms that Sburb's grandstanding about the Players' importance isn't just hot air - they really do serve a critical purpose. Assertions that this 'purpose' is more important than saving Earth are still dubious - but now, I can at least understand the coldly utilitarian place the game is coming from.

I still don't know why it has to work this way, but now I finally know what's happening. Earth's universe was born from the blood of Alternia, and the kids were created to perpetuate the cycle again, creating a new universe from the blood of Earth.

Close! It was less of a gasp, though, and more of an under-the-breath 'what the fuck'. I don't know why a universe surprised me as much as it did - like I said, I was already half-expecting a planet!

I think the real sticking point is the difference in scale - and, as a consequence, the difference in Grist cost.

It makes a certain intuitive sense that you could convert the Denizen Grist into a planet - comparable in size, presumably, to the planetoids that the Denizens call home. But a universe is an entirely different animal, one which would dwarf the Incipisphere by dozens of orders of magnitude.

Extrapolating from the typical volume of a Grist piece, four Land-sized vaults of the stuff wouldn't be nearly enough. Even if Denizen Grist is a million times more valuable than normal, and each Denizen released a million times the Incipisphere's volume in Grist, it still wouldn't be nearly enough.

I guess the game could just hardcode the Grist cost of a universe down to a manageable value, but that would break the game's own rules, and doesn't seem in spirit with how its progression system works.

No, I think something screwy must be going on with the Denizen hoards. Maybe they're full of special Grist, each piece of which is worth 1e70 normal pieces - or maybe picking them up actually multiplies the value of your grist cache, rather than adding to it.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the hoards are this comically large. After all, their value is beyond even Vriska's imagination.

The exact mechanics here are definitely worth speculating about. Let's talk about how, exactly, this universe may have come to be. The trolls obviously can't have crafted this thing atom-by-atom, or even planet-by-planet - not unless Aradia took them into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a billion years of blueprinting.

A lot of Alternian culture is integrated into Earth, though, and it had to get there somehow. In keeping with what anon said, I think these ideas were sort of 'merged' into the universe when it was created.

After all, Sburb is all about merging ideas, and we've been working with idea-merging machines since day one!

The trolls alchemized their universe, even if they didn't use a traditional Alchemiter to do so. If they wanted their universe to exhibit certain traits, all they needed to do was feed it certain ingredients, merging them with whatever 'universe' object they presumably gained access to at the end of the game. I'm just going to call it the seed.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls is because the trolls inserted their codes into their universe's alchemy recipe, perhaps attempting to revive the troll species without the Matriorb.

Wait, scratch that.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls, and have red blood, is because one specific troll's code ended up in their recipe.

Come to think of it - since we're already doing large-scale alchemy, there's a pretty easy way for the trolls to ensure that every trait they want ends up in their new universe.

All they'd need is a fetch modus and a drawing tablet.

If you're being evicted into a new universe, you might as well make it feel like home.

Adding Alternia's code to the seed would, in one fell swoop, explain all the facets of troll culture observed on Earth. It would also, in a way, 'resurrect' the troll homeworld without truly reviving it - a bittersweet prize for our victorious Players.

As mentioned above, it would be weird if Earth was the only planet to inherit DNA from Old Man Alternia. It would make sense if each civilization exhibited different Alternian traits - like, maybe there's an exoplanet out there somewhere where lusi evolved, and another where everyone has the same necromantic powers as Aradia.

It also means the universe was probably full of space empires. If the meteors didn't get Earth, Neo-Alternia might have eventually come knocking...

I also think I was conflating the signs on the trolls' clothes with the signs of the Alternian Zodiac, without considering that those might be two entirely different sets of 'signs'. The trolls themselves never refer to Cancer or Aquarius as Zodiac signs, after all. Maybe the Extended Zodiac is a different thing entirely.

Anyway - yeah, that is interesting. The kids' universe was created by twelve Players, and now its stars bear their signature - so whose signature is embedded in the trolls' stars?

An implied 48-Player session sounds amazing. Doubly so, if Hussie's using Squiddles to imply a Horrorterror session. That's an absolutely fascinating idea, on so many levels, and I do hope we see the trolls speculating about their own creators at some point.

Of course, this 48-sign Squiddles stuff could also be a red herring. I'm getting used to how this comic works, and just so it's on record...

...this is what I suspect is actually going on.

In any case, I'm as hyped as you all are!

Hussie's hand has finally been shown, and Homestuck has been revealed as the creation myth that had been built up all along. I can't wait to see what's next.

[pinkrangermemes]

RED SHOES & THE SEVEN DWARFS

please watch this movie, it's delightful. feel free to change pronouns and such when needed

"A magical land of princes and princesses, witches and monsters."

"Accidents and strange events happen all the time."

"We thought she was a witch. Sooo... we attacked her, but we were wrong."

"Everything changed the day we slayed a dragon and saved a princess."

"She wasn't a witch. She was a princess. The fairy princess!"

"How were we supposed to know!"

"So, anyway, she wanted to teach us a lesson, so she placed a curse on us, and this was a nasty one."

"And the only way to break the curse is to get a kiss from the most beautiful woman in the world."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? With THIS face!"

"Not again! How long must I wait!"

"Oh, pull yourself together."

"Huh. That wasn't there before."

"What is she up to now?"

"I can't believe my beloved daughter, ____, has turned 18."

"They said she was a witch, but she was too beautiful to be a witch."

"People around the castle have been disappearing, one by one."

"I should send _____ away to a safer place."

"Apples. The most suspicious of fruits."

"But they don't look dangerous."

"Green is like an ogre."

"Quit your complaining, _____!"

"I'm figuring out how to take this curse and kick it where the sun don't shine!"

"What was that, some kind of bird?"

"Magic mirror, full of wisdom, who's the fairest in the kingdom?"

"Inside note, wisdom and kingdom don't really rhyme."

"Cut the sass, and tell me her name!"

"Magic is just my first name. It's short for Magichard, like Richard."

"What can you do then?"

"Perhaps you should recruit another. Someone who stands to gain from your success."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

"Yes, it could be a witch, but... Yeah, it's a witch."

"Wands where I can see'em, witch!"

"Fraulein! I baked you some revenge!"

"I have six roommates, but my name is on the lease."

"Wow. I look so... different."

"Oh, my gosh! What happened to me?"

"Is that... really what I look like? In the mirror, you see the same thing?"

"Obviously. I mean, I am a princess."

"Nah, that _____ isn't your type. You seem more like a _____ fan to me."

"Honestly, none of them are really my type."

"How can I assist you, my fair lady?"

"I need to find my father, and I know _____ can help."

"Leave it me. I'll find your father within the month."

"I already found your father like two weeks ago!"

"I just need a few days to get him across state lines."

"No one's offered to help me in such a long time..."

"I think I hit her too hard..."

"Who is coming to my birthday party?"

"If she's not gonna sleep, she can come to a party!"

"I DEMAND glorious guests!"

"I couldn't be anymore unpopular!"

"Finally! Someone talking sense!"

"Fear not, loyal hag!"

"I, Prince _____, shall find this fugitive and make her pay for her crimes--by making her attend my birthday party!"

"No! Whatever it is, I haven't seen it! Now, please, go away!"

"Hate to zap you, _____, but I need to impress a beautiful woman."

"_____, stop putting yourself in danger!"

"I see that light at the end of the funnel. Time for me to kick butt in heaven. I had a good run. Hashtag blessed."

"Seriously _____, you need to find a better way to hit on girls."

"Stand back. I may have to risk my life again."

"Where have you been? Something awful could've happened to _____ if I hadn't shown up!"

"You shouldn't go into the forest by yourself. It's a nightmarish landscape fit for only the finest warriors, like myself... and squirrels."

"Oh, I am so sorry. That was... much slappier than I intended it to be."

"To break this curse, we've got to work as a tightly knit team. Which means you do everything I say."

"You took your shot, you got slapped."

"A half baked plan is better than none!"

"It says: do not attempt to remove by force."

"I like a girl who can keep things classified."

"Who said you could leave your post?"

"I'm just walking the bunny."

"There's no need to push me into a corner. This is super scary."

"Are you a criminal!?"

"Just let me know what you want. Anytime. For the rest of your life."

"I don't want your jewels, only your good intentions."

"Ugh, it's that loser, Prince _____."

"Don't troll me, troll."

"Can we get this over with? They're just dwarves!"

"Gentleman, he surrenders."

"I! Shall! Return! On Tuesday. No, wait, let me check my clandarrrr.... Thursday."

"You always talk about what someone looks like."

"I think I can see the real you, and I like you. Just as you are."

"You're a gift. A gift that will transform me into someone amazing, just like you're amazing."

"Nope! Stand back! I got this! One... Two... Okay, yeah, I need help."

"This kingdom has a serious monster problem!"

"What do they want besides smashing us!"

"Take a look, _____! I have triumphantly saved the day!"

"You're going after _____ yourself?"

"By the time I figured out _____ was a witch, _____ had already disappeared."

"If I had given up their magic, you wouldn't have helped me find my father, would you?"

"I'm talking about the kind of spell you never want to break."

"I just wonder what I would have done if I'd seen the real _____."

"Seriously? It's still all about appearances for you?"

"Those are bears."

"If you think you've humiliated, embarrassed, and otherwise frustrated me... you're right."

"Sweet lord, please end this."

"You've torn apart my family, and you will not get away with it, _____!"

"What's going to happen to her?"

"It's a good day to break a curse."

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, whether my eyes are open or closed."

[mod-kyoko]

Oh~ how about another prompt with Miu where she has actually has a boyfriend, which is a surprise to her entire class, and personality wise, he's the opposite of her. He's kind and polite and a bit shy. Everyone is like, why is he dating miu, and isn't the relationship a bit toxic with shuichi and kaede being the only two to really support the relationship. Though when asked why he's dating Miu, his answer is that he finds miu to be adorable and loves every part of her. And Miu overhears this and is super embarrassed but also touched.

miu iruma w/ total opposite boyfriend

info: male!reader, established relationship, slight nsfw mentions, miu does what miu does best, around 1,900 words

type: oneshot format, non-despair au

a/n: I have a feeling you like miu a lot, not that I blame you at all I wrote this in a oneshot format just to make it flow better

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

it was a normal day in homeroom, students of class 53 formed small groups and talked amongst each other softly. it was oddly peaceful this morning. shuichi looked around and hummed in thought.

"isn't it more quiet than usual...?" he asked to his circle of friends who were kaede, kaito and maki.

"now that you mentioned it... it does feel quiet, did something happen?" kaede pondered.

"that's a surprise considering kaito is here..." maki said in her usual sarcastic and deadpan tone, to which kaito grunted in response.

"hey! I can be quiet too!" he rubbed the back of his neck. "but you're right, something doesn't feel quite right... like we're missing something."

as if on cue, the door was kicked open and a certain blonde genius proudly made her entrance.

"....that's why." maki growled.

"good fuckin' mornin' you lonely sons of bitches!" miu laughed harshly with her hands on her hips, walking into homeroom and lounging herself over her desk.

"miu... you seem very high in spirits." kirumi commented, gently nudging miu's shoes off of the desk. miu smirked and leaned back on her chair, putting her arms behind her head.

"who could blame me? anyone would be happy to be a beautiful girl like me!"

"doooooubt it." kokichi butted in with a sing-song voice. "was there a discount on scented vibrators or something?" he stuck his tongue out with a wink. miu went red and sat up properly, clenching her fists.

"no you fuckin' dwarf! since you're so damn nosey i'll tell ya..." she gestured for the others to come in close as a proud smirk stretched upon her face. "I, miu fuckin' iruma, girl genius and incarnation of beauty itself... has a boyfriend!"

suddenly the room went very quiet and all of her classmates turned to her with variations of surprise.

then kokichi started laughing. "bahahaha! good joke, miu! i had no idea such a bitch-brain like yourself was capable of decent humour!"

miu clenched her jaw. "shut the fuck up, you little shit! it's not a damn joke!"

"oh... oh you're being serious? it's not a lie?" kokichi raised an eyebrow. "you have a boyfriend?"

"inventions don't count as boyfriends, miu..." maki cut herself in, for once actually working along side kokichi and sharing their disbelief. before miu could bite back, maki sighed and crossed her arms. "whatever... who would even want to date you?"

"tch! you're just fuckin' jealous i have charm and beauty!" miu pouted, scratching her temple with a slight blush on her face. "it's y/n... y'know, the guy in the class below us?"

if anyone wasn't shocked before, they certainly were now.

"y/n... y/n l/n? are you sure?" even kirumi couldn't hide the fact that such a person like miu could bag a person like... him.

"even though he's a degenerate male... i never thought he was your type, miu!"

"kehehehe... like the tales of a forbidden love between an angel and a demon..."

"nya-ha-ha! you must be truly blessed by atua, miu!"

"there's no way you didn't cast a high seduction spell on him..."

"yeesh... poor guy... he probably couldn't even say no..."

all these influxes of doubts and jokes, it made miu curl into herself on her chair, eyes darting around at the mocking faces. why the hell did they not believe her?! and why was she starting to doubt herself too...?

in the sea of everyone else, kaede's words cut through them all.

"come on guys, that's enough!" she puffed up her chest. "i think it's really nice that miu found a special someone! who are we to judge?" she gently nudges shuichi who snaps out of his thoughts, clearing his throat and nodding.

"y-yeah...I think it's great you've found someone, miu."

miu felt a little better about it although she didn't show that she appreciated the two's support, she just stands up with a grin on her face. "i'll prove to you that me and him are made for each other, like antony and cleopatra!" she whips around to kaede and shuichi. "you can both be my witnesses! let's meet at the diner after school!"

"oh I've got to see this.. I'm coming too." kokichi said with a devious smirk. maki chuckled under her breath as well.

"I don't normally do this... but i'll come too just to see you fail."

"tch... get ready to be proved fuckin' wrong..." miu had to keep her word now, should be easy enough right?

after school, kaede, shuichi, kokichi and maki all went together to the nearby diner that miu specifically told them to go to. the diner wasn't that busy at all, with the occasional tired worker coming in for a cup of coffee.

the group had been waiting 20 minutes and miu still hadn't arrived with her supposed 'boyfriend'.

kokichi groaned out loud, reeling back as he tugged on his own hair. "aaargh... can we just order now? i'm hungry!" he whined.

"no, kokichi! we need to wait for miu and y/n!" kaede scolded him for his lack of patience which only made him groan louder.

"should it be taking this long, though? I hope everything is alright..." shuichi hummed, looking out of the window for any sign of the blonde.

"maybe she was just bluffing about this boyfriend..." maki sighed. "what a waste of my time... I'm leaving." she began to stand up yet a familiar voice caused her to sit down.

"hey dumbasses!" there was miu, with her arm linked around a timid-looking young man who followed behind her like a lost puppy. this would be... you.

"feast your lucky eyes on this cutie!" miu pointed her thumb towards you and you immediately felt embarrassed, rubbing your hands together, managing to throw a gentle wave.

"H-hi... it's nice to meet some of miu's friends..." you tried to speak confidently yet your voice cracked on the first word.

"we're not friends." maki spoke up quickly, leaning her cheek into her hand as she huffed. she was hoping that she could leave quickly but now she actually had to stay.

"maki!" kaede sighed softly, turning to you and giving a friendly smile. "it's good to meet you too, y/n! i've seen you around school but we haven't officially met. I'm kaede, and this is shuichi, maki and kokichi!" kaede gestured to who the names belonged to, shuichi gives a smile of his own, maki just gives a lazy attempt of a wave whilst kokichi was... staring with a straight-face.

"tsk... why the fuck you suddenly so quiet for, cock-itchy?! cat got your dick or something?" miu suddenly got defensive, tugging your arm closer to her. kokichi kept the straight face for a moment... then suddenly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"kokichi oma! charmed, i'm sure!" he extended his hand out to you, you were about to shake it until miu suddenly grabbed your wrist.

"don't grab it! he's got some shock toy for sure!" miu spat with venom, you quickly put your hand back to your side. kokichi sighed.

"buzz-kill!" he giggled like a little imp.

soon enough you were sitting down with miu's friends, ordering your food and just making idle chatter although you were quiet. it was true then... miu did have a boyfriend and quite the unlikely person too. admittedly, shuichi was starting to worry about you. he supported the relationship, of course but... would it really be okay? miu was loud, pushy and... overbearing, you didn't come off the type to enjoy that at least, that's what shuichi was starting to gather.

after eating, miu yawned her heart out and stretched. "welp, this golden girl is going to have a golden shit in the bathroom, don't fuckin' leave without me!"

"too much info..." maki grimaced.

"be right back, cute stuff." miu ruffled your hair as she stood up, you smiled and nodded your head with a gentle blush.

"o-okay, babe..." you watched your girlfriend make her way to the bathroom, once she was out of your sight you looked down at the table sort of in silence. you weren't exactly the type to initiate conversation.

"okay so... biiiiiiiiig question..." kokichi put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the booth. "how much did miu pay you for this?" this question caught you off guard and you looked at kokichi dumbfounded. kaede sighed, facepalming in complete disappointment.

"w... what...?"

"come ooooon... there's no way a guy like you wants a seething whore like her, right? there's gotta be a catch!"

you frowned, scratching your cheek and shaking your head. "no... I want to be with her..."

kokichi looked confused. "uh... what was that now?"

"yeah... are you serious?" maki leaned in closer against the table to look at your face as if she was searching for something. "you do realise how she is, right? she's a thorn in the backside... and loud, and cocky..." maki grumbled.

"I know..." you shifted around in your seat nervously, looking off to the side and a smile melted on your face. "but... I actually like that about her a lot... she's really confident and... she's really cute when she gets all excited about her inventions... I love listening to her talk, actually..."

"awww...." kaede smiled warmly at your words whilst clutching her chest.

you giggled. "miu is actually really sweet when you get to know her... I think she's perfect for me, actually... she's confident when I'm not... I think people judge her too much... but under the surface she's just a warm, caring person... I love her a lot and she's really beautiful, and smart..." you chuckled, shaking your head. "sorry, i'm probably gushing so much... but.. it's the truth of how I feel..."

the table was silent; kaede was still tearful at the beautiful display of love you possessed for someone like miu, shuichi was smiling a little bit and now he understood it... you two were actually perfect for eachother. maki seemed in thought but... she seemed less likely to make fun of it now. kokichi stared at you again, only to sigh a few moments after.

"well, he isn't lying... but jeez... boooooooooooring!"

"look who's fuckin' talking!" miu came back from the bathroom, glaring daggers down at kokichi. you immediately tense up with a bright red blush on your face.

"m.. miu..? did you hear that...?"

miu sits down next to you, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression. "huh? hear what? all I heard was dickhead over there being an annoyance!" she growled directly at kokichi, who stuck his tongue out. you sighed in relief, you couldn't handle the embarrassment if she knew what you were saying about her... maybe another day you can say it to her face...

miu heard everything. she heard the voices when she had left the bathroom but hid around the corner to listen. did you really mean all those things you said about her...? you thought she was beautiful and smart? of course she was! she was miu iruma! but... when it came from you... it just felt all the more special. she had to take several minutes to calm her blush before walking back, she just couldn't believe how cute you were...

she looked over to you chatting away to shuichi and she smiled softly. her hand gently took yours underneath the table, squeezing it and running her thumb over your knuckles. it was satisfying to see the tint of red on your cheeks yet you squeezed her hand back.

she was so happy that she met you, all the more happy that she could call you her boyfriend.

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

-Mod Kirumi

[toseeclearly]

DICE SHAME TIME: When Rob asked me for help in giving Jack a mid-life crisis makeover (I mean, dude's going through it), you basically have to imagine me slamming my hand down on the table and going, "I've been WAITING for someone to ask me to do this."

I'm not like... consistent in my character art. Maybe I would be if I drew these guys a lot, but since I do it maybe twice a year in full, the art tends to shift a lot. What I am instead is someone who's obsessive about tiny details, so what ends up happening is that the V2 designs have 8 billion little things about them that only I know or care about. Red's new armour is all about hiding and moving in shadow, so it's covered in tiny open and closed eyes. He's missing part of the leg armour because of course he lost it within 10 minutes in his bag of holding. Jack's coat is based on ulster coats, so it's pulling Victorian stylings (normally I would pull inspiration from Georgian era clothing for him [yeah yeah yeah, I know V1 doesn't, DON'T @ ME]) and including heavier detailing in general. Get through your trauma by being SHOWY. I just always get Dorin's armour wrong, I know it's supposed to be golden and elaborate, but previously I've just been like "dwarf in armour, yeah!" So here's some gold and details and just a lot of shit going on. Mairi... fuck it, I'm giving her a new outfit. I'm tired of drawing the coat. She's my original character do not steal and I can do whatever I want.

Nonetheless, happy 5 years to Dice Shame. I'm real excited for what's coming next.