#cringe is dead and I'm beating it with a stick

[desasterdan]

@sam-does-art reminds me of something

My sister got me this stupid idiot today. I was in the toy section and laughed. I told her she didn’t need to get it for me but she said

“There was so much joy in your eyes I had to.”

And I was like

“YEAH CAUSE HE LOOKS SO GOOFY.”

Anyway. I love this stupid egg man very much. Gonna go chuck him at a wall.

[paper-star-ships]

I'm so used to shipping with podcast/animated characters that when I ship with characters from live action stuff I get nervous like what if this actor finds out somehow... it's so ridiculous smh 😭😭

[bluukive]

Eyes On You

summary - you finally decide to give the gym a go, getting yourself involved with a man who's dead set on pushing you to your limits

wc - 5.4k

content - MDNI, insecure!reader x gymowner!Sukuna, mentions of weight, Sukuna's harsh at first, eventual mutual pining, solo mast. (m + F, separate), 0ral (f receiving), face s;tting, handj0b, slight body worship, submissive reader, freaky in the gym shower (anyone could hear them...but no one does?), teasing, hella unrealistic, really amateur writing like please I'm cringing so hard

an - uhm I've never written a mini fic before !! please excuse the awkward writing

Lazily proofread by me mb

It took all the courage you had to even think about signing up to the gym that opened down the road, but the little voice in the back of your head was telling you to go. Just check it out, it said. Walk around a little, and then right back out. Shouldn’t be hard, right?

Right?

Wrong. How wrong you were. It was easier said than done in hindsight, but you didn’t expect the heavy thud of rock music to blare throughout the facility until you felt your bones tremble. Nor did you expect large gaggles of gym bros swarming around the equipment, a few heads turning the moment you pushed open the glass door. Sure, there were enough women there also, but not enough to deter you from yanking the drawstrings of your hoodie. Your vision became obstructed as the hood tightened around your face, whispered curses leaving your lips.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered, eyes darting side to side as the social anxiety set in. You were close to turning around on your heel and out of this building, leg already twitching. But a low, gravelly voice called out to you from beside a water fountain you were unfortunately standing too close to. 

“Lost? Nervous? Which one is it, girl?”

You don’t know how you missed this giant of a man, especially when his cropped, pink hair made him stick out like a sore thumb. Some strands were plastered to his sweaty forehead and concealed the judgement of his stare. Barely. His tank top also did a poor job of hiding those hulking muscles, flexing slightly with full veins as he gripped his water bottle. Looks like you caught him mid-workout. Oh, and you’re gawking like an idiot.

Nice going. 

“Are you deaf or something? Speak up already,” the stranger clicked his tongue impatiently, and you internally panicked. You wondered whether manifestation was real and if you could will for the stranger to just explode. Actually, make it the entire room. An embarrassed grimace appeared on your face as you realised you had the attention of a couple of people on you.

“Uh, no. No, I’m not deaf. Just looking around,” you began to explain, undoing the drawstrings of your hoodie once you realised how utterly stupid you must have looked. But then the stranger gave you a grimace of his own, lips quirking up as his eyes landed on your dishevelled hair. You looked like a mess. 

Way to go. Now you can’t show your face in public. And yes, it really was that deep.

And so you smoothened your hair out and plastered an overly enthusiastic grin on your face to compensate for the fact you couldn’t socialise. “Where do I sign up?”

He snorted, a sceptical brow raised as he checked out your incredibly outdated attire. “You want to sign up?” 

You nodded. Fuck, you weren’t even meant to say that. The urge to slap a hand over your forehead grew tenfold, but you fought it.

A shaky breath left you as you gave in to that little voice reminding you that no, you didn’t fit into those jeans you’ve had your eyes on for a while. No, your mom hadn’t stopped making comments about your body and lack of love life. 

“...Yes, please,” you said after a beat of silence, and that was that. Sukuna, who was apparently a trainer, led you through the whole process. Sign this, read that, fork over some of your wage. You know, the typical procedure. The new you was coming very soon, you told yourself after internally crying over the money spent. You’ll buy those jeans in no time.

═══════★

“Sloppy fuckin’ form, girl. Sharpen up,” Sukuna barked, circling around you like a goddamn hawk. 

Oh, you swore you were going to quit that gym soon. He had been riding your ass for the past couple of weeks, pushing you further than you’ve ever pushed yourself. Sukuna called you out on your bullshit that first day when you tried hiding in the corner with your phone out, coaxing you onto a mat and making you stretch. Since then, Sukuna kept an eye on you, making sure you were red-faced by the end of the workout. 

A sharp click of his tongue brought you back from your thoughts. You groaned, raising your hips from the floor and spreading out your limbs. You were currently doing a plank, which appeared to be dissatisfactory in Sukuna’s eyes. 

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” you hissed, head tilting up as best as you could so that you may glare at your tormentor. A scoff left his lips.

“Yeah, you’re as intimidating as fuckin’ pebble right now. Head down.”

Your head dropped reluctantly. The quiet grunt you accidentally let out didn’t escape the trainer, but he wasn’t about to soften up. Neither were you out of sheer stubbornness. 

However, the burn in your thighs and arms became more noticeable. An ‘oof’ sound left your lips as your jellied arms buckled and you face-planted the floor. Another tut and more chuckles from the other members scattered in the gym. 

“Take five,” Sukuna couldn’t help but roll his eyes at you. 

A dismissive noise left you as you remained face-down on the floor, Sukuna’s fading footsteps and mutters of annoyance filling your reddening ears. Your face burned. 

Swallow your pride and quit, the voice in your head mocked. 

But two weeks in? You couldn’t. Not when you had stupidly formed a grudge against Sukuna for pushing you so hard too early on. You shook your head and got back into form, lower lip jutting out in sheer determination. You were completely unaware of the approving nod from the other end of the room.

═══════★

Walking was simply out of the question today. You threw the covers off and gritted your teeth at the way your legs throbbed with each shift of your body. 

It had been maybe five sessions since you had face-planted the floor in front of Sukuna. It didn't look like he'd ease up any time soon after that incident. In fact, he grew meaner. That apparently made you like him more.

The mere thought of him made you shrivel up in bed and grimace, but you couldn’t fight the slight inkling of attraction you felt towards him, slight being an understatement.

It was bound to happen eventually, right? You'd be stupid not to be attracted to him. Each muscle looked like it had been carved right out of stone. Hell, now that you think about it, it was probably also those unamused looks he was throwing your way that made you keep going back to that cursed gym. 

You were there now after hyping yourself up in the mirror back home. Not for too long, though. One look at your chest flailing around was enough to make you curl your lip and shrug on that tacky pair of sweats and hoodie you liked to work out in. You skipped breakfast and settled on a shitty cereal bar you found in your kitchen. It wasn't the best thing to do, but you were set on losing weight. 

The air reeked, to be frank. It was the first thing you noticed after walking into the gym. Testosterone and sweat mixed with a strong hit of regret. Regardless, you pushed through and continued shuffling on your boneless legs. You set your bag down in some lonely corner and mentally prepared yourself for Sukuna to berate you about God knows what. It was something new every time you came here. 

“Told your stubborn ass to stretch after the workout,” he drawled once he sauntered over, an amused look on his face. “Just had to stomp out like a little brat, didn’t you?”

“That's not true. I just wanted to go home and shower,” you scoffed in response. But Sukuna didn’t reply. Instead, he raised a brow that screamed oh, really? You could feel the back of your neck prickle with an uncomfortable heat as he stared you down. 

And then he walked off. Asshole.

“So fucking weird. I mean, who does that?” you rambled to no one, getting in form and raising your arms over your head as you stretched. The slight sting of your muscles being used was actually rather welcome for once. 

═══ Later ═══

By the time you were done, you were warm and sweaty. Sukuna hadn’t spoken to you much today, too busy chewing out a new member of the gym. Poor dude, you thought. But at least it wasn't you. 

This gave you time to look in the mirror, a poor habit of yours. Your eyes cast over your body agonisingly slow as you checked for any changes in physique. Little bursts of cool air hit your flushed skin when you lifted your t-shirt with one hand slightly to inspect yourself, the other hand fanning your face. You then sighed, running a hand over your hip. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

A garbled yelp left you as you dropped your top and looked at Sukuna from the mirror without turning around. His red eyes were trained at your hip, and he looked almost disappointed at the fact that your clothes had covered again. You whizzed around and stood there stiff. A pause, and then you were wondering why the hell your mouth was starting to run. 

“Nothin’. None of your business,” you chuckled nervously, hands clenching at your sides. “Just checking progress.” 

“Yeah, ‘cus that’s the only reason why you cop a feel of your own body after every session looking like a kicked puppy,” Sukuna’s eyes remained lidded, flicking between the mirror and you. 

“Oh, cmon. I look nothing like a kicked puppy-”

“Yeah, you do. Every single time.”

“You're watching me like some perv-”

“And what?”

You paused and inhaled deeply, a stupid smirk appearing on Sukuna's lips as you grew increasingly frustrated with him. “Will you at least let me finish my sentence?”

“No can do. Wanna explain yourself?” He asked, beefy arms folding over his chest. You had to forcefully drag your eyes away from the slight jiggle of his pecs, your body reacting similarly to that of a Victorian male seeing an ankle for the first time. 

“Eyes up here. Talk to me,” Sukuna repeated, softer this time. Your hands fiddled with each other as you debated whether to open up to this hothead. It was likely that he'd a) make fun of you, or b) propose on the spot and fawn over how perfect you were (extremely unlikely, but a girl could dream).

Sukuna watched as your lips parted and the lie tumbled out of your mouth since it was easier than telling the truth.

“Just stretching.”

An unimpressed grunt rumbled in the man's chest. “Bullshit, but keep telling yourself that.”

“Tch. What else am I doing then?”

“Fuck knows, but quit it. That's not healthy,” a finger jabbed at your forehead, and you swatted his hand away without thinking. Your chest tightened slightly. Was that genuine concern?

Sukuna saw your reluctance to accept his words, making him shoot a deadpan look your way. “I'm being serious. Stop grabbing at yourself before I throw a dumbbell at the mirror,” he scolded, narrowed eyes boring into yours.

“I see you busting your ass every time you're here. You may not think I notice it, but I do. Trust me. Do you really think I’d push someone so hard if I didn’t see something in them?”

He was speaking to you like a trainer now, but you could hear some of his own personal feelings slip through the cracks. It made your throat feel tighter. 

“To be honest, I didn't think you'd see,” you mumbled, swallowing the lump in your throat and wiping your increasingly sweaty hands on your t-shirt.

“Well, I have. Now, stop touching your hips like that. They're fine,” he scolded. Sukuna didn't even wait for a reply as he walked off, probably to slap the back of someone's head again.

For the first time that day, your body felt less heavy. 

And you could confidently meet your eyes in the mirror again. 

═══════★

With your eyes fluttering shut, you shifted and lay on your back whilst reminiscing on Sukuna's words. Maybe it was your memory playing tricks on you, but you swore his eyes lingered on your body in an appreciative way. Maybe he saw more in you than you had ever seen in yourself. But realistically, maybe you were that attention deprived that you were making up scenarios to feel special. 

An exasperated groan left you as you rubbed your face in your hands, heat creeping up onto your cheeks yet again. Honestly? You couldn't remember the last time you felt so whipped over someone before. It had been just under a month since you joined that gym, and Sukuna was already plaguing your every thought. 

It's not like Sukuna was your teacher or anything. You were both legal adults. Yeah, maybe you were just some stubborn brat who frequented his gym. But that didn't mean you couldn't feel anything for him. 

But why did you feel guilty? Was it the way he was so uncaring yet so observant at the same time that made you feel this way? Or was it the fact that you saw yourself as unworthy of this arousal?

Regardless, you could feel your cunt beginning to ache. You tried relieving it by squeezing your thighs together, but it was useless. The muscles in your body still felt tight, and the effects of the gym lingered. God, why couldn’t you escape him?

Slick noises filled the bedroom not long after you began questioning your whole dynamic with Sukuna. Yes, it was deeply embarrassing and you’ll surely regret it later. But right now, the sensation of your fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit was too pleasurable to ignore. 

With each ashamed jerk of your hips as you lay there, the plush skin of your thighs shook as you raised it slightly and bent your knee. Even though you lived alone and no one was around to hear you, you bit into your fist to conceal the plethora of needy mewls and gasps falling from your lips. The towel had come undone, exposing the curves of your writhing body. The cool air contrasted deliciously with the wet heat between your parted legs. Now that your breasts were free, the hand at your mouth moved lower so that you lazily brush a couple fingers over a hardened nipple. 

But the moment you did that, existential dread crept over you and you withdrew your hand. Self-consciousness hit you like a ton of bricks and you sat up abruptly, face burning at the fact that you were getting off at the thought of some musclehead at the gym. Your eyes fluttered down, unfocused and blurry from denying yourself of an orgasm. You guessed it was time for another shower. Maybe that’d wash the shame off of you. 

═══════★

After a few days of ignoring the urge to go to the gym, you gave in and dragged yourself out of your home. There’s no way you could look at Sukuna in the eye now. That was one of the many thoughts whizzing round your head as you kept your eyes low and headed to your usual corner of the gym. You could smell the lecture coming from the pink-haired man from a mile away, and boy, you were right. 

You were barely done with your first warmup set when you heard his gruff voice cut through the blaring music. He was not amused. 

“You suuure took your sweet time coming back, Sick of working out already?”

And that’s when you froze. Your heart quite literally dropped to your ass once you managed to stand up straight, but your eyes remained on the mat below you both. 

“Was busy, that’s all,” which was a bold lie. He could tell.

“Hm,” Sukuna began. “Looks like you were too busy to even do your stretches properly.”

A thick set of fingers met your back, the digits pressing into your spine so that your posture was correct. An awkward noise left your lips at the contact.

“Straighten up. At this rate, you won’t even be able to workout because of body pains.”

But that was the least of your problems. Fantasies of his hands coaxing your thighs open and his tongue doing unspeakable things to you filled your mind, causing you to move back sharply. You cleared your throat, noticing again the displeased look on Sukuna’s face.

“I didn’t think you’d care if I turned up or not,” you admitted sheepishly, a bold assumption on your end.

A low, hum of laughter rumbled in his chest, which quite frankly did nothing to soothe the steady pulsing between your thighs. “Oh, I don’t. I just don’t want to be losing out on money through your absence.”

Ouch. 

Your head turned, and he saw the mildly offended look on your face. His words were just enough to make you forget about the heat of his body as he walked around slowly to stand in front of you. 

“I’m kidding, i'm kidding. Mostly," he borderline purred. "Is everything okay, though? You’ve been ignoring me more than you usually do,” Sukuna cocked his head to the side, and you wondered how he could sound both amused and irritated at the same time.

A short huff left your lips, almost sounding amused. If only he knew why you had been avoiding him.

“Nah, everything’s good. Just working out, y’know. Like a normal person would.”

Sukuna’s lip quirked up again, a stupidly attractive habit he had when he felt playful. “Riiiight. If that’s the case, stop lookin’ at me like I’ve fucked your life up or something.”

Your brows furrowed as you struggled to keep your eyes on him. The fuck did he know?! But that frantic look on your face didn’t stop him from running that mouth of his. 

“Oh, but who knows? I might have already. And in that case?” he let his voice drop down a couple of notches, leaning forward until you could practically taste his aftershave on your tongue. “You’re welcome, I guess.” He let his eyes drift down, pausing at your lips, and then down to the swell of your breasts through your t-shirt. 

Were you meant to ask him to look for longer, or slap him?

Once the realisation that maybe, just maybe Sukuna was attracted to you settled in your stomach like a heavy weight, he pulled back and walked away slowly, eyes on you until the last possible moment. You blinked once, then twice. 

You were dumbfounded, but also aroused. What the hell was going on with you both?

═══════★

Sukuna’s private office was…something. Low hanging fluorescent lights flickered periodically as he sat there in the busted chair, sun already having set outside. The occasional clang of metal reverberated around the gym outside of the private wall, and the air inside was heavy with dust, sweat, and intense longing. 

Sukuna’s eyes were screwed shut, unable to physically eat the half-chewed apple on his desk. His cock was aching in his sweats. It’s only been under a week since you came back to the gym, and he’s losing it. He’d be lying if he said you had caught his eye immediately. Sukuna remembers the day you came bumbling in like an idiot into his gym all wide-eyed like you’ve never seen a man before. 

But how wrong he was. You had a mouth on you under all that awkwardness. But most importantly, you were so reactive. He doesn’t know why he liked it so much, but seeing you stiffen up at his touches, push out your lower lip when he pissed you off… It really set him off. Not to mention the noises, God. Your soft pants after a workout, your low groans as you stretched those legs of yours.

Honestly? Sukuna didn’t understand why on earth you were so insecure. He had the urge to drag you away from the mirror every time he saw that disappointed look on your face after each workout session. He could spend ages running his hands across every soft inch of your body to show you that you were fine. There was no need for you to push yourself so hard. 

The mental imagery of burying his face deep into your pussy pained him. It was embarrassing, really, the way he was always ogling at you bent over the dumbbell racks or watching your throat bob with every gulp of water. Sukuna rubbed his face with his hands, groaning and manspreading further in his seat as his cock practically weeped to be freed. He could feel the front of his boxers dampen with his precum, which he had been trying to ignore for a while now. But it was useless. Sukuna may have felt like a hormonal idiot for freeing his length from the confinements of his sweatpants, but he saw no use in denying himself the pleasure of fantasising you on top of him. 

It wasn’t long before Sukuna had a large hand nestled deep in his pants, wrapped around his throbbing cock. He couldn’t be bothered taking it out, and something about ruining his clothes to the thought of you made it all the more thrilling. When he shut his eyes, he could see the full outline of your body underneath your clothes, the way the outline of your sports bra was visible due to sweat after vigorously exercising. 

His cock twitched in his hand and he finally began pumping his hand lazily. Sukuna could imagine you walking in on him, the frazzled look you’d shoot his way. He wanted you to see him like this, but unfortunately for him, you had gone home. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve done it now. Messed me up all good and p-proper, huh?” His hand continued to move, wrist rolling expertly. Almost as if he was used to jerking off to the thought of you. Sukuna’s head tipped back as he pictured you on your knees, lips glossy with his cum and body eager to please him. Oh, you'd look so pretty with your tits pressed together as you sat their obediently.

The chair creaked once he started rutting into his hand frantically. His hips jerked once, then again as his orgasm hit him. It hit him hard. It was messy and the waves of shame hit him at the same time ropes of thick cum coated his fingers and the insides of his sweats. 

Uneven pants filled that small office, and Sukuna finally withdrew his fingers and wiped them clean with a nearby rag he kept nearby. He could feel his heart hammering in his throat, and he actively avoided looking down at the mess he made inside of his sweats. 

Maybe Sukuna felt ashamed. He definitely should have. But there was no way in hell Sukuna would ever stop thinking about you. 

═══════★

You should have gone home and showered there like you usually did. But the tension between you and Sukuna exactly two days later had you on edge. You weren’t thinking straight, water bottle empty and chest heaving from overexertion. Your aching feet dragged to the gym showers instead, where you stripped after setting up all of your belongings. That berry-scented body wash just screaming your name. 

Sukuna however, came with other plans. He was thanking the stars that the gym was mostly empty, and there was little to no chance of anyone walking in. Plot armour, one may call it. 

You were in the middle of washing your body, washcloth scrubbing at your chest and getting them all soapy. How odd Sukuna was acting today, you muttered to yourself, recalling how his stare never left you and how his jaw remained tightly clenched. You were almost afraid he’d break a tooth.

The obnoxious creak of the shower-room doors brought you out of your daydreams, and you were glad the curtains concealed you from the eyes of whoever had just walked in. You were thinking to yourself that gosh, they really should oil up the hinges, but the curtains opened. Your eyes landed on a very pent-up Sukuna, whose eyes were shamelessly ogling at your nude body. You merely blinked at him, brain trying to catch up with what was going on.

“So, hey! One person per shower!?” you practically shrieked, backing up when Sukuna entered the shower and shut the curtain behind him. He’s soaking in the sight, clothes becoming drenched as the hot water beat down on both of you. Sukuna’is breath met the steam as he exhaled heavily, finally forcing himself to speak. 

“Gonna tell me to fuck off any time soon? Say something, pretty girl,” he cooed raspily, head cocked slightly to the side as he hunched over you. You could only stare back up at him, blinking away the spray of water. But the way your pussy clenched around nothing told you all you needed to know. You were positive you wanted him, so you gave him a nod. 

That was enough of an invitation for Sukuna to capture your bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it lightly into his mouth as he initiated a kiss under the spraying showerhead. You wanted to kiss back, but everything about Sukuna screamed urgency. You could barely register the fact that he was nipping at your neck, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his greedy hands pawed at every inch of skin you had to offer. 

“R-ryo, please wait-”

“No waiting. Don’t you dare tell me to wait,” he gritted out, sinking onto the tiles and using his hands to maneuver you around so that your rear was in his face. You winced at the sensation of the cold tiles your breasts were pressed up against, but you had no time to complain about it when Sukuna used both hands to spread the supple fat of your ass apart. A sharp gasp ripped out of your throat and your head whipped behind you to check.

“What exactly do you think you’re doin-”

He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence. The fiend angled his head, flattened his tongue and licked a fat stripe from your pussy to ass. You shrieked, hands flailing as you tried to grip the tiles unsuccessfully. A sharp swat to your ass served as a reminder to keep quiet, so you slapped a hand over your kiss-bitten lips. Sukuna took this as a chance to grab one of your calves and lifted it to the side, allowing him to groan deeply at the way your pussy spread so nicely for him. The fact that he could do so with such ease had you positively shaking. 

Your foot slipped ever so slightly on the wet tiles, but Sukuna was there to grip you even tighter, digging his fingers into the ample layer of fat over your hip to steady you. He dove back in, mouth hot on the entirety of your cunt as he ate you out like a man possessed. A garbled cry left your lips as you let your hand leave the tile. Sukuna was beyond pleased when you twisted his short hair into your fist and tugged, beginning to practically ride his face. 

“Fucking starving today, y’know?” he huffed in between filthy slurps. “Acting all shy for what, when your body is this fuckin’ slutty. Think I wouldn’t notice, huh?”

He went on and on, pausing to languidly roll his thick tongue over your pulsing clit. Sukuna sucked it into his mouth, nose buried between the crevice of your ass. You couldn’t respond, rendered to stupidity as ragged breaths left your lungs. The only time the man under you pulled away was to spit directly onto your pussy before diving back in. 

“P-pull away, gah, pull away, Ryo. M’gonna-,” you whined before being rudely cut off. Sukuna chokes on a curse at the nickname you have for him, and he wraps his arms around your waist. You’re sitting on his face, spasming with a cry as he begins shaking his head to the best of his ability. He’s a certified munch for a reason, devouring you from the back as you release all over his face with a strangled cry. 

You wiped the water from your face and slumped against the tiles. A kiss was planted against your ass, and then another. 

“Fucking hell. Should have done this sooner. Much sooner,” he muttered as he eventually rose to his feet. Sukuna’s knees ached, but it was worth it. “Pussy tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You managed to focus your eyes on him, face undeniably flushed as you pushed yourself away from the tiles. It did something to you to see Sukuna so pussydrunk and hard in his boxers. Somewhere along the way, he had tossed his shorts aside, which was perfect. His erection was straining against the fabric, and you took that as an invitation to sling an arm over his bulky shoulder. Your other hand slid down his torso, dipping in every curve of muscle it could find. You left his pecs alone, deciding to squeeze them another day. 

“Oh, oh. You want this as much as I do?” he teased before stopping himself from speaking anymore once he saw the look in your hazy eyes. You didn’t want sex. Not today, at least. So you settled on timidly freeing his length from his underwear and brushing your thumb over the flushed tip. The larger man almost moaned aloud when you rested your forehead against his chest and looked down, a soft noise of awe escaping your mouth at how deliciously thick his cock was. All thoughts of covering the stretchmarks on your hips, the thickness of your thighs, all of it… they were long forgotten at that moment. You started stroking his length almost lovingly, and you heard the slight crack in his usually confident voice.

“Hahhh, s-shit. Got a reaaal sweet pair of hands on you, don’t you, pretty girl?” he simpered, raising your head with a hand and affectionately resting his warm forehead against yours. The way Sukuna praised you had you doubling your efforts, wrist twisting as you pumped him earnestly. 

The water kept running, but Sukuna could worry about the bill another day. A chorus of guttural growls left him, strokes growing increasingly slick with his precum. The periodic twitches spurred you on, your eyes lighting up the closer he came to orgasm. Your gaze broke away when Sukuna’s lips pressed against your temple in a feverish manner, aaall the way down until he could claim your lips once more. The slight musky taste of your own slick graced your mouth. You should’ve pulled away, but you enjoyed the way his saliva mixed with yours.

“W-woah, there. Steady, fuck. I’m about to cum-”

One last flick of the wrist and a sweet peck on the cheek was all Sukuna needed to cum all over your fingers with a final grunt of your name. His release was warm, ropes of it shooting up to his abs. The urge to pop your fingers into your mouth grew, but the water washed it away. Neither of you spoke for a minute, trying to gather your wits about the change in dynamic between you. The steam continued to swirl around you both, providing a more intimate cocoon for you to relax in.

“Let me wash you up, yeah? Can’t be going home half-cleaned,” Sukuna murmured after pulling back from your face, trying as gently as he could to wipe the sodden strands of hair off of your face. He’s made a mess of you, but you were a gorgeous mess. One he’d happily devour a million times over. 

“Ah, well. That’s your fault, no? I suppose you should be the one taking responsibility,” you laughed weakly, mild exhaustion setting in. The orgasm combined with the heat of the shower was getting unbearable, and you wanted to leave. Sukuna picked up on this, making quick work of cleaning you both up. 

“Is that so, hm? Let me take you out then. Properly,” he said, followed by a nip at your ear. Large hands rubbed at your skin, thumbing at the curve of your waist. A swat of your hand landed on his chest, but Sukuna didn’t pull away. Oh, he was deathly serious. 

“...Yes, please.”

divider creds - @cursed-carmine

[basiatlu]

Road to Hell

So I've been having fun with a Harringrove rp and thought to share some of my turns. Is it any good? Ehhhhhh. Here's a writing WIP for your Monday:

Current rating: M (for language/canon-typical violence)

Other relevant tags: assumed MCD (sorry, I gotta spoil that bc I'm a baby), grief & mourning, injury, anxiety, slow burn, Post Season 3

-☆-

Steve pressed in on the swollen pulp of flesh beneath his socket with a wince. A hissing breath escaped him as the pads of his fingertips prodded down into the hinge of his jaw. It had been clicking whenever he chewed for the past week. His face looked so fucked. Robin and Joyce both had already pestered him on multiple occasions to quit messing with the bruises that painted his skin but he just couldn’t. Likened it to wiggling a loose tooth—a popcorn kernel at the back of his throat. The purple and red aches reminded him that the fever dream from the 4th of July had happened.

Starcourt Mall was gone. The Russians were gone. Hargrove. Hopper. His sleep cycle. A chunk of Hawkins snatched up by the things that went bump in the woods. Not a shadow—the Mind Flayer, Dustin had reminded him with little patience. To be honest, it all felt like a sick joke. The Scoops Ahoy uniform was still in a heap in the narrow space between his dusty desk and bed. The fabric clung to the smell of gunpowder and blood that made Steve’s mind swirl with panic when he’d catch a whiff in the dead of night.

It’d be better to forget this had ever happened. And yet there Steve stood in front of his mirror as the steam of his shower fogged up the view. He continued to stare in a trance into his own face in a sick fascination of his own wounds. How long until the bruises faded away? How long until all of this shit would finally leave him alone?

Steve Harrington—the backup, Mr. Reliable, the getaway driver—he’d never felt more pathetic after getting the living snot beat out of him yet again all while strapped to a cold metal chair. He could still hear Robin’s hysterical pleas vibrating in his ears when he let his mind drift enough. Now the mirror only reflected back a ghostly silhouette of his hunched shoulders as he stood dripping with a towel wrapped at his hips.

Not even the lush comforts of his parent’s house could provide a reliable cocoon from the outside. After being released from the military clinic with a fresh set of stitches and another contractual ultimatum demanding his silence, Steve had been jumping at every creak that echoed in the hallways. The noises were chilling but the silence made his brain ring with flashes of last week.

But it was fine. He was fine. He lived right? Still breathing as easy as his sore ribs allowed. Could be worse. Steve cringed in memory of Max sobbing over the still corpse of her brother. Her screaming protests as they all were corralled from the shattered hull of the mall.

Yeah, could be worse.

“Goddamnit.”

Steve ripped open the medicine cabinet hidden in the mirror panel to track down another token he’d hoarded. A necklace. The necklace.

The faux gold chain felt so fragile in his palm as Steve let the pendant trail into his water-soft hand. He cupped it with care, surprised still by how dainty it felt when removed from the devil-may-care guy who had bombarded into his life with such a reckless force and left it just as explosively. The embellished design of the figure wasn’t one he was familiar with. He rubbed at the smudging over the lone man wielding a walking stick with a thoughtful frown. Steve had meant to give this to Max—she would want it probably? He’d return it. Soon.

Steve draped his stolen trinket back behind his cache of hair products and snatched up his razor. If he didn’t get his shit together soon, Dustin would start sounding in over the walkie and when that didn’t get through, the phone would start ringing. He had promised to swing by to pick up the little mooch around 1 o’clock to play taxi.

How the brats wanted to do anything at all was perplexing to Steve. Fuck did he know about coping mechanisms?

With a sharp snap of his wrist, Steve shut the cabinet. An attempt to shave some of the hairs growing around the sensitive welts on his face had to be made or he’d feel completely useless.

It was as Steve leaned over the sink to ready the first swipe at his cheek that a flicker of movement in the clouded mirror caught his eye.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Frozen over the sink basin and shaving cream smeared on his chin in wait, the running water fell away into white noise as he tried to process what exactly was the slow movement through the mirror in front of him. What had passed—behind him?

Then a gentle clunk of ceramic came from the toilet in the back corner of the bathroom and Steve’s stomach filled with dread.

He pressed his tongue into the raw inside of his cheek. Someone was in the bathroom? Something? No, God, please no. He prayed for the nail bat waiting in the next room over. Elbow raised, Steve whipped around on his heel, a yell ready behind bared teeth.

He was alone. Just silly Steve and the dripping condensation along the walls of the shower stall. It was probably the pipes draining. Right.

Running a free hand down Steve’s battered face, he turned back to the sink and slammed the faucet off. The sharp pain centered him back to now. He refused to look into the mirror again and began splashing his face clean. Whatever—he’d shave another day.

Steve pictured the kids teasing him at attempting to grow out a shitty beard. Now that he didn’t have to worry about locker room jabs and swim team standards, his body hair was sort of running wild as the Harrington genes go. He bet he could rock a mustache. He huffed a wheezy laugh until he is reminded yet again of fucking Billy Hargrove. How Steve could have sworn he saw a phantom take shape in the foggy bathroom mirror. Had heard a curse grunted into his ear. Made him think of jeers and heavy breathing from behind as an accompaniment to the sharp pounding of a basketball.

“Fucking chill out, man,” he said into the sink.

Steve tossed in the plastic razor and stepped out into the hall towards his bedroom. And then the lights began to flicker.

Usually the house was lit up at every available fixture and sconce that Steve could get his hands on. At that moment, he watched with a growing unease as the lights in the ceiling above buzzed on, then off, then on again—one by one down the path—towards his own bedroom. The spotlights dappled across the hardwood floors in a pattern that was hard to ignore.

Despite every inch of Steve screaming to turn back into the warm pocket of the bathroom and hide, he followed the repeating cycle of the hall lights that were beckoning him onwards. He’d left the door to his room open and with a steady pace he pressed in without pause. The bat was in there. He was in a towel. Worse ways to be robbed. Or eaten.

But as he looked about, Steve realized once again that he was alone. He let go of a shaky breath he’d been holding in and started to get dressed. Deep breath in. Underpants, left sock, right, breathed out. Shirt, hopped into his jeans. Breathed in again. Steve glanced over at his bed just as the coils in his box spring groaned. His lungs squeezed up and he fought off the urge to run.

His eyes clenched tightly closed as he felt around the desk chair for his jacket and then the bat. Didn’t look down at the crumbled Scoops vest he knew was there. Didn’t want to see the rusty stains for once. The slick of his palm made the wood of the handle slide as he blindly made towards the door. The path was familiar enough to Steve from years of stumbling his way through the house in the middle of the night. He barreled out into the hall yet again. The lights had stopped flickering now but had remained kept unlit as his paced picked up into an anxious trot towards the stairwell.

No, he’s just tired. Didn’t hear a thing. Breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Still breathing, still alive. He was ok.

The dark nipped at Steve’s heels until he was down in the skylight of the entry. He shoved his feet into a pair of Nikes, snagged his keys and wallet out of his mother’s crystal catch-all bowl, and rushed through the double doors. He was halfway towards the burgundy Bimmer when he realized he didn’t hear the front bang close. He pivoted back on skittering feet and made sure he closed, locked, rankled the handles, and jogged back to his escape.

Plant your feet.

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when the car’s radio blared Blondie at him. He slapped a hand at the console to shut it off before peeling from the driveway.

Breathed in. Then out. At least he was alive.

-☆-

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men: The End - Review

Book 1: Dreamers and Demons

In one of Chris Claremont's many ill-advised returns to the X-books, he set about writing a hypothetical and non-canon end to the series. Set about 15 years in the future, the story travels to every corner of the X universe - if briefly - so if nothing else everyone gets an answer for where their favourite character ends.

Greg Land did the cover. I hate Greg Land.

I praise it mostly on a conceptual level. Pretty much every long running corner of the MU received a 'The End' mini, but Claremont split it up into 3 separate miniseries. Captain America and Iron Man both got 5 issues, KISS (yes, the band) got 3, the X-Men got 18. As someone who always wanted characters to die, grow and retire but was often foiled or undone by fiat - I respect that he'd want to do it properly. However, more is not always better. It's fun, cringe, and nonsensical at times. A LOT of people die unceremoniously. Don't take it too seriously.

The first few pages sets up that that 15 years have seriously passed. People are dead and retired, some have kids that look exactly like them, the never aging kids grew up. The Shi'Ar are killing X-Men, like a lot of them, except they're doing it in disguise. Jean Grey has returned as the Phoenix and is hanging out with (kidnapped him while he was doing Letterman lol) Nightcrawler, Carol Danvers' hologram, and Aliyah - the child of Bishop and Deathbird.

Here she is going for an expository jog down memory lane.

We spend a little time getting to know her, as she's the closest thing to a viewpoint character. She's inexperienced and way out of her depth, but her heroic instincts are sharp. Interestingly she 'doesn't really care about the Shi'Ar.' Aliyah lives on the Starjammer with a pretty impressive holodeck, she's never met her dad, her mum is holding the Shi'Ar empire together and her best mate is holo Danvers. Lilandra is apparently 'mad.'

Immediately Kree slavers approach Chandilar and Claremont begins clearing the board. Madrox and Siryn die for real, Nocturne is a hound and Aliyah manages to knock her out and take her to the ship. Phoenix comes out of nowhere and begins wrecking shit and the Kree do the same.

Also, WarSkrulls.

If it sounds like confusing nonsense, that's because it is. The first third of the miniseries is about establishing Aliyah and checking in on various X-Men before killing most of them. Seriously, it's easier for me to list who lives rather than who dies. It's confusing but I think it works as front loading the deaths so books 2 and 3 have a more manageable cast of characters. If you plan to stick the landing, it's going to be easier to trim the decades of bloat/worldbuilding the X-books have received.

We get a brief overview of Earth stuff before they start to die, though everyone in these panels lives (mostly hehe). Kitty Pryde is running for president with Rachel as her campaign manager! Storm and Logan live together and he's her full time caretaker. Emma and Scott have two kids. Cable hunts terrorists apparently.

Here's the Summerses. A lot of people wear speed dealer sunnies in the future, with Cyclops even saying SPEED right there. Coincidence? Also their children are boring.

You'll note the daughter may as well be a clone of Emma (she isn't but you know what I mean.) The baby is called Alex after long dead Havok, definitely tempting fate there. I'd sooner call my child Omega Red, but I'm not a parent. Chuck pokes his big bald head in and Emma tells him to beat it. Scott checks in with folks all over the globe, many of whom die. He is concerned of course.

Told you. Rogue and Gambit live and they definitely saw The Matrix. This isn't plot relevant - this is just how they roll apparently.

Hank and Cecilia McCoy live and they do *something* in Africa. Doctor stuff I think? This book moves so damn quickly. They live but everyone around them dies. Hank is right about the mutant problem. The named X-Men body count is at 18 by book 3.

Hey Yukio! Come to homoerotically kill Ororo, huh? DW, she wins despite full paralysis. Don't fuck with Storm. At this point we find out ALL these assassins are WarSkrulls sent by the Shi'Ar. Storm's powers have wrecked her body btw to the point Logan feeds her and she kinda wants to die. 😭

Madeline Pryor, Stryfe, and some weirdo I don't know come for the X-Mansion. Dust dusts Maddie Pryor. That dude getting punched by Not!Stryfe is the son of Colossus and Polaris. Yeah he looks exactly like Colossus. Nice to get confirmation of Polaris' awful taste in men. She does have a dope butch short hair look that slaps, so it's not all bad choices and emotionally stunted communists.

Nearly everyone else not pictured is dead as a doornail, ash and bone at best. Claremont was pretty damn thorough - 90% of the X-Men and their allies dead. Apocalypse bit the dust too, in a pretty embarrassing way. Of course Sinister lives because he's working with the Shi'Ar but has his own agenda, as usual. They're starting to realise that the Shi'Ar sent the WarSkrulls, but the preemptive strikes were super effective. Book 1 ends on the Starjammer with the passengers realising Cassandra Nova has been Lilandra all this time.

I'm sorry, CHUCKY sends me. No cap. I could write an essay on this panel and invite speculation.

The last page has the Xavier Institute's singularity power core exploding after that lot end up also being WarSkrulls sent by the Shi'Ar - looks like having the school be built mostly from Shi'Ar tech backfired. The school is definitely gone - along with at least the state of New York but I suspect much more - then a smash cut to this masterpiece. Callisto with fucking tentacles for arms saying 'Chucky?' as Chuck is overwhelmed by grief. I'm assuming they're in a polycule with Mags over here, but it must gall him to be the third most dramatic person in a scene. It's just too much to respond without some kind of levity, but if it wasn't clear by now - the stage is being cleared ruthlessly. Northstar was at the school, so maybe some people survived but Claremont is not half arsing it. This is definitely a whole arse situation, maybe even more.

DUN DUN DUN 🫠

Wait what? Chuck's evil twin, the Mummudrai? Hectic! So we know we've just seen Cassandra Nova send many WarSkrull strike teams after X-Men in the form of people that will hurt them psychologically and it was very successful. Hmm... it's 15 years in the future - does that mean she's been leading Bird Gang this whole time? No Xandra in this timeline but the X-Men interact with the Shi'Ar a lot. That's some wild patience for Cassandra Nova, and the notion that she's been preparing all this time is terrifying. My God, all the X-Men are going to die aren't they? Maybe, though I can't stop thinking about how Lilandra Nova would have handled a booty call from Chucky. Ughh gross.

I think it's worth saying that the high amount of action is a YMMV sitch - I personally can do without no punching at all in a book, and get frustrated when a mandated and arbitrary fight happens just because that's what cape comics do. Just because action has to be special to wow me doesn't mean I don't recognise its value, mainly I believe we can demand more from our comics - as an evolved art form instead of the pulp it began as. What I said earlier about front loading the death applies to the action too. I suspect your enjoyment of this book will come down to your feelings on action or ability to appreciate it ironically/unseriously.

I'll leave part one there, though I want to point out that Sunspot is whitewashed so badly he looks like Shawn Mullins. At least he dies - I love Bobby Da Costa but I'd prefer no Sunspot to dorky white guy Sunspot. Stay tuned for part 2 and thank fuck that's over. Spinning a coherent narrative from a book without one is a challenge, especially with only 10 pictures to work with. I considered counting and listing all the deaths, but I got to 30 and realised I wasn't enjoying it and doubted anyone else would. I'm not a wiki, and hopefully I've done my job while leaving some meat on the bones for folks who still want to read it. Don't worry, Kitty's presidential run is still live and it's implied she won the primaries. Independent? As if. Definitely a democrat, because the X-Men are mostly centrist bitches. Still, I hope she wins and First Lady Rachel and her achieve something.

I haven't been doing much long form lately so I welcome any feedback you might have. 💜💜❤️

[youphoriaot7]

just finished s10 of supernatural and i didn't talk a lot about it on here (because i binged the majority of it in about 48 hours) so i'm gonna do a great big SEASON WRAP-UP POST!

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF SUPERNATURAL SEASON 10 UNDER THE CUT!!

ho. ly. crap. there was so much this season wtf. okay. i'm gonna take it step by step.

firstly, demon dean was kind of hysterical. he did absolutely nothing except drink, have s.ex, and sing some godawful karaoke. and maybe he beat some people up here and there but quite frankly he could've done so much worse. literally the worst thing he did was chase sam around the bunker with a fire axe (and that episode was fucking terrifying). i did love him i'm not gonna lie.

10x05 fan fiction was so fun. they once again hit the delicate niche of "we're laughing with you." yes, it made me cringe very hard, but by the end of it i was in tears, so y'know. your mileage may vary, i guess. i really liked it.

i feel like they kinda did hannah dirty? i liked how she came to understand humanity and all but giving that plotline to her was a little bit of an odd choice. it would've worked better on a different angel i think, i don't know. it was also way too quick. and i know at the end of the day it was just a plotline meant to shuttle into the cas-claire plotline, but i still think it could've been better executed. it wasn't bad, it was just a little...odd.

claire novak. first of all, great character—i like her already. she makes good points and sticks to her guns, which i appreciate. however. i'm...a little irked at the way they've gotten into this plotline. i don't feel a ton of sympathy for cas, because quite frankly he should've done this like three seasons ago minimum. he isn't just going to be able to assert parenthood, because he isn't her parent, and he's wearing her dead father's face. it's a lot to get over, and it's not going to happen instantaneously. and i'm on claire's side with it, whereas it feels more like the narrative wants you to be on cas's side. i don't know. it's interesting. at the end of the day, i like claire! and i'm glad she's going to be on the show more! and i think that her and cas will smooth things over; i do think it'll work out. just...not as quickly as cas wants.

i need metatron dead. that's all i have to say. i'm sick of his scheming, he's a bastard, and i want him gone. they should've killed him at the end of season 9 and i said what i said. that's all.

...charlie bradbury. they did her so fucking dirty. that split personality episode was stupid; i'm sorry, it was. just like they never should've sent her to oz. and then she has a chance to be cool again, and you kill her off in a situation where there were multiple ways out of it? i'm so pissed for her i'm not gonna lie. she deserved better.

i don't really understand what cole added to this season. i do actually appreciate them making dean suffer the consequences of his actions, but i think this could've happened at literally any other point before (or after) now and it would've had an immensely larger impact.

i'm SO pissed they killed off amelia novak. they really pulled a httyd stoick-and-valka sequence on us and i'm NOT happy about it. again, there were ways out of that situation. and they did nothing. not pleased. it was a really good episode aside from that, though.

you may have noticed i skipped over crowley and rowena. let's go there now. i still can't tell if i liked rowena or not. KSFHJGKSF ruth connell is an incredible actress, and i LOVE the way she portrayed rowena. which is evident in the way she absolutely pisses me off. KSJFHGKFS she's a great character, but also a distinctly annoying one. i'm looking forward to seeing more of her. when it comes to crowley, i...feel a little bad for him skfhgjksf. i've had a soft spot for him ever since he showed up on the show, and he just keeps getting fucked over. i have a feeling they'll plot-armor him; i don't think cas is going to kill him, but i really hope he doesn't ksfhgs. i enjoy him, evil or not.

finale time! 10x23! so much happened, oh my god. first of all, DEATH NOOOOO. i'm so gonna miss that actor. i already sort of know what happens later on, but i'm afraid julian richings will always Be death for me. he absolutely embodies every scene he's in, steals the show every time. i'm gonna miss him so much ksfhgs. the whole cain-and-abel/sam-and-dean thing hurt very badly, unsurprisingly. ow. there was a fuckton of hypocrisy going around in that finale, which irritated me to no end. the brothers' codependency will be the death of me, i'm sure. </3 and then there's the ending, of course. A POTHOLE, YOU'VE GOT TO BE JOKING ;-; i'm not worried about them surviving, i'm more just worried about The Darkness TM itself. i can't see this ending well.

overall, not a bad season! i'm feeling a little indifferent about it at the moment, but that could absolutely change with time.

...LAST-MINUTE RAPID-FIRE COMMENTS, GO!

loved seeing jody again, but i was STOKED to see donna again?! i wasn't expecting her back!!

shoutout to 10x13; that felt like a s1 episode and it was wonderful. <3

rip cain. he was kinda cool tbh. ;-;

bobby cameo's are an immediate 10/10. that episode rocked. i miss bobby.

the stynes pissed me off.

yay for cas's grace!! i've missed it <3

i need metatron dead. i just needed to say it again. it still applies.

[jinxxedmisery]

God... WHY!? (NSFW)

Headcanons plus a short fic.

Warnings: NSFW content.. this is literally a scenario about Gojo being a goofball during the deed...

Anywho... enjoy...Hope you like dead memes and cringe... (I hate myself for writing this... This should be a war crime)

Generally Gojo enjoys bringing humor into the bedroom, he really loves seeing you laugh.

But sometimes... He can get so fucking annoying.

As you lay on your back, hands pinned down to the bed, Gojo on top of you, thrusting into you in just the right way to make you scream...

A song you know all too well comes on... He's played it during sex so often. After that damned reddit r/AITA post he will not stop.

You've begged him to delete it from your Spotify playlist, but he never did.

Nasty little shit likes to see you go from whining about wanting him deeper to whining wanting him to stop acting like an idiot

Ofc.. He likes calling you really stupid pet names as well.. in and out of the bedroom..

And you better believe he thrusts with the rhythm of the song playing.. not the beat... Like a psychopath.

"Satoru....." you whine. A smirk appears on his lips as he continues the eratic thrust pattern.

"Hmmm? what is it munchkin?" He says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You roll your eyes

"Please... for fuck sake turn that shit off... and wait... 'Munchkin' did you just call me 'Munchkin'?" You resist the urge to push him off of you and onto the floor

"Aww does my little boo thang not like what I call them?" You narrow your eyes at him

"Do you want me to shrivel up and die down there?" He rests his head on your shoulder and you feel him grin against your skin, you gulp in response fearing what would come next.

"Oh pookiebear~ You'll be okay won't you? You still want my girthy meat stick right?" he whispers in your ear, you hate to admit it but it could almost be hot... If he weren't whispering the most deranged shit into your ears. "You love it when my hotdog is inside your moist cavern don't you?"He whispers making you cringe. "And when my hands move to touch your sensitive nubbins" He says, moving his hand over to your chest, teasing your nipples. "How about I purple your nurple, would you like that my candybear.. the jelly to my peanut butter~"

"Satoru.... I hate you so much right now" You complain, He evidently takes pleasure in your cringing as he chuckles leaning in to kiss you. His thrusts once again moving to a pleasurable rhythm. No matter how much you groan and act like you hated him for it, you still truly love him. And that included all of his bedroom antics. In fact, you appreciate it sometimes, he always knows how to make you laugh and well today was indeed one of those days.

Just as you were soaking in the serious affection he was finally giving you after his goofiness.

Two Trucks came on. And he began bobbing his head and syncing his thrusts to the music. You scream in exasperation. "SATORU GOJO I SWEAR TO SHIT I'M NEVER LETTING YOU TOUCH SPOTIFY EVER AGAIN!!!"

He slept on the couch that night.. As he should.

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 29: pride

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 29: pride

In which Viatrix completes her pilgrimage, and proves that even though she's irritating, she's cooler than Iriel in every possible way.

“We are about to pass through the sacred barrier of the Ghostfence, which shields us from evil through the combined faith of thousands of souls of the honoured departed.

It's actually easy to include in-character exposition, if your characters are tedious pedants who like to lecture everyone! But yes, the final stage of the Temple pilgrimage involves a brief trip onto Red Mountain proper, which is terrifying at low levels. Especially if you get turned around in the blinding red ashstorms, and your "brief" trip turns into a panicked flailing skitter, trying to find the shrine before something horrible catches you.

The "combined faith of thousands of souls" powering the Ghostfence is another example of the Tribunal's extremely literal take on the power of faith. Though here, the souls are dead, so it's probably just the regular Tamrielic magical application of soul energy to act as a battery for something. I'm sure a Temple priest would disagree, but I don't think souls have anything as individual as faith. The faith came in when they chose to donate their souls to the Ghostfence, it's not still there afterwards. That would be like saying that because Grandma donated her body to medical science, this vaccine thinks you need to fix your hair and find a husband.

Iriel glared at her through bloodshot eyes, until the light became too painful, and he had to close them again. "You.” he said. A surge of nausea forced him to stop.

Red Mountain might be the least of Iriel's troubles. Moon sugar withdrawal was bad, but skooma withdrawal is on another level.

liKE my fucKinG SKoOma yOu SpOiLed, selF-CentrED–

I love random-capitalising "slightly unhinged" text like this, in defiance of everyone telling me it's cringe and a tacky, unprofessional writing habit. One person even threatened to stop reading the fic, if I kept doing it! Sadly, no one has yet managed to get me to stop, though I may have to, if it becomes too embedded in pop culture as "mocking spongebob voice", since that's not my intended reading. That said, picturing Iriel using that tone is making me giggle, so even that may not work to restrain me.

“Well, I’m not standing for it,” she said, planting a hand firmly on her hip.

There's a little idle animation like this that female NPCs do, in Morrowind. Clearly, they thought it was too sassy for men, with the little hip tilt. Cowards. Anyway, I'm assigning it to Viatrix specifically, because Iriel later recognises her by it, when she's wearing a full-body plague doctor outfit.

Over the course of the next hour, the force of Viatrix’s will propelled Iriel through a bath, a comb, and into a clean shirt and pants

Powerful as Viatrix's will is, there's a more powerful force at work here: authorial engineering. I need Iriel to look a little bit less dead rat, marginally more like someone who has his shit together. Fortunately, not much more, because he only has to beat Julan, a man about to undergo disassembly by Daedra.

It doesn't matter. The important thing is that we cleansed ourselves. It’s symbolic.”

You wouldn't think that this statement of Viatrix's would stick around long, in Iriel's skooma-starved brain, but here he is, quoting it to himself, months later. Bitterly and sarcastically, but still. As if she gave him an oddly-shaped piece of metal, that he never figured out what useful thing he could do with it, but he can't quite throw it away, either. Iriel feels this way a lot regarding matters of symbolism and metaphor, ways of looking at the world that simply aren't true enough for him. And yet, these weird little fictions hang around in his mind. What are they good for?

“Don’t like robes. Too magey.”

Iriel dislikes the mage label, and prefers to avoid visual signifiers, but he could still wear a robe if he wanted to - lots of other people do. He's just making up a plausible excuse for what is really no more than a personal, non-psychologically-significant dislike of having a whole ton of extra fabric all around his legs, as he moves.

Once we’re on the mountain, you could catch the Blight if you don’t take better care.

There is a crack, a crack in everything, That's how the Blight gets in.

- Dunmer Leonard Cohen.

Sorry, that wasn't fic commentary, just something I needed to get off my chest. Carry on.

“Thanks, Ma,” he muttered, but wrapped the scarf she gave him around his mouth and nose. It was made of stoneflower-blue silk, and embroidered with tiny sequins.

This scarf! If people were gonna set textual analysis essay questions about HTDC, a really good question might be: what is the symbolism of the stoneflower-blue scarf? Not because I know the answer; I don't. I just want to know what other people would write. You could absolutely invent some sort of thesis, I'm sure.

The scarf was a throwaway moment of detail that Iriel invested with way more personal significance than I expected. It'd been so long since he'd had something nice, something frivolously pretty, that suits him, and makes him feel good about himself. And, unlike the silk shirt he finds later, practical enough to wear on the regular! It became his signature clothing item in art - though opinions differ on whether the sequins are silver or gold. I can't remember if I ever specified.

“Plain and simple pilgrim fare again, I see,” he said, and took satisfaction in her expression as the barb hit its mark.

Iriel is being so spoiled with all these "valid targets", lately.

“It’s true that my clothes are expensive. When I left home, they were the only kind I had. I could have sold them and replaced them with rags, but what would that achieve? I am who I am. I see no purpose in hiding it.

And then she absolutely bodies him, in return. Just destroys him, with her whole "refusal to be ashamed of personal qualities she can't control", and "rejection of the idea that she should camouflage herself towards others, to make herself safer or more acceptable to them."

Dagoth Ur, lived in the central crater, plotting the destruction of the Tribunal, and cursing the land with his evil ash-blight.

I dreamed about you baby, it was just the other night. Most of you was naked, ah, but some of you was Blight.

- Dunmer Leonard Cohen again.

Reverently, she placed a soul gem before the shrine, and knelt before it, praying aloud. “Thank you for your pride, Lord Vivec. I shall not doubt myself, or my people, or my gods…”

Pride is one of the core Temple virtues, and Viatrix is showing Iriel why. How it's a necessary defence mechanism, when others would seek to destroy you by targeting your insecurities and your self-esteem. Obviously I'm not gonna bring in the whole real-world "gay pride" angle in the fic, that'd be cheesy as hell, but of course, it's not unrelated. Pride is refusing to let other people hate you into hating yourself.

he felt like he’d been pushed through a sieve

Still love this image. Brief but evocative.

He realised, with irritation, that his last Recall point was set right outside Arobar Manor, which was not somewhere he should risk re-materialising.

Teleportation: not narratively overpowered, provided your characters are stupid enough about it!

His reverie was shattered by something small, grey and furious

They're not the most dangerous, but ash slaves are so annoying.

he returned fire from his prone position, but only succeeded in intercepting the next attack, the two spells colliding in mid-air and detonating.

At least, they are to Iriel, because of how frustrating magical battles are in Morrowind. Spells that hit each other collide in mid-air, wasting everyone's magicka, and I always get stuck in a poor-timing cycle of never actually getting a hit in. I know, I should just fucking dodge, but I'm really bad at video games, you guys.

On the plus side: look, I'm writing a fight scene! It's brief and poorly written (too many long words bogging down sentences and ruining the pacing, fight scenes need to feel sharp and tense), but at least I'm trying!

He was almost at the tunnel when he realised he could hear screaming, but it was coming from the other side.

While this chapter doesn't have what you'd call a climactic ending, and leads straight into the next, it's technically the end of the first narrative arc. As defined in my notes, anyway. The arcs have names, and I may or may not share them with you because, intended to be seen only by me, most of the names are kinda stupid. Case in point: the first 29 chapters are labelled "Sad Elf In Swamp". If you think you know what that's a reference to, no you don't, and what were you doing at the devil's sacrament?

It's the end of the arc, because it's the end of Ire's solo career, and the beginning of a complicated collaboration.

next: 30: possible previous: 28: faith

[lukascout]

Guess I'm The New Scout!

Story 1: Gunpowder

Today's an interesting day in Dustbowl, as the RED's newest recruit is currently being shown the ropes of combat. But this little chicken has never been on a farm quite like this. In fact, he seems to be shaking in boots that might be a bit too big for his feet.

The newbie was a short, chubby man that definitely needed a bit of sun but he would have to do for now. He tried to make himself scarce behind his long side swept bangs as training was going… abysmal. For starters, he could barely hold a gun without feeling like passing out and his aim left a lot to be desired. But hey, he'll learn on the job, right?

The makeshift target, a sheet of scrap plywood complete with a man shaped outline painted on it, stood freely between a set of minecart tracks and a dirt wall. Soldier stood at attention off to the side of the target, watching the newbie try to steady himself. His patience was starting to falter as the side of his mouth occasionally twitched into a snarl. Sniper stood right behind the still trembling recruit, trying his best not to cringe at the scene before him. Luckily, his aviators made it easy to hide his expressions. But he didn't want to be surly with the lad; Soldier's punishing him over every little thing already.

The newbie stared into the faceless figure of the target, his finger trembling on the trigger. To make matters worse? He could swear that it was mocking him…

Can't even kill a man, eh? Look at you! You're not gonna make it in this job… Doesn't seem like a good fit for a coward like you! HA!

Who does that faceless creep think they are? If this was their idea of encouragement, then that bastard’s got another thing coming. The newbie gritted his teeth and glared daggers into the target. Ready, aim, and-

“HARTMAN!” Soldier's booming voice made the newbie called Hartman jump and fire the gun, not at the target but off to the side. Hartman tensed as he looked at the fresh bullet holes in the dirt wall next to Soldier. He didn't move from his spot; but he now wore an even bigger scowl. Once he realized nobody was hurt he caught his breath, slouching as he let the air escape from his body.

“Ch-Christ…”

“Told you not to stand there, ya star-spangled sod!” Hartman snicker-snorted at the Sniper's way with words. This earned a glare from the Soldier, who then jabbed a finger in the direction of the target. “No more monkey business! Aim for the target! In battle you'd be dead ten times over by now!”

Hartman slumped his shoulders as he let out a deep sigh. Sniper noticed a hot red washing across his face. No way was he going to let the lad beat himself up over this; he himself didn't become #1 Sniper in a day.

“You're alright, lad.” Sniper attempted to reassure him with an hesitant shrug.

Hartman glanced up at Sniper with wide eyes that seemed to glitter a bit. If he had a tail it’d be wagging like crazy. It was relieving to know that not everyone was going to constantly be on his case for his “insubordination”, as the Soldier would call it. He gave Sniper a confident nod and a low, cheerful “wan!”. He steadied his aim and replaced his finger on the trigger. The anxiety rose but he drank it down with a dry swallow.

Keep your back straight… Firmly grasp the handle… No hesitation-

“FIRE!”

Hartman froze, holding the Scattergun tightly in frustration of being rushed. He always hated that, especially in his formative years. At least he's old enough to talk back to people now. Well, at least, only when things were clearly unfair.

“I-I can't focus with you yelling at me!” Hartman piped up.

Nope, Soldier's definitely not taking that sass. Especially from some runaway newbie.

“You ran away from home, now lie in your new bed, Hartman!”

“Y-You're an ass!”

Sniper put an arm between the two men before things got ugly. “Oi! Ease the kid into this!”

Before Hartman could thank the Sniper for sticking up for him, he heard a wheezing laughter.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Am I too hard on your new pet?”

What the actual hell is this guy's issue?

The Sniper glared at his teammate and let out a growling sigh. “My point is: You're not gonna get far with him like this. Let me take over.”

Soldier growled as Sniper took over as the trainer for the newbie. Hartman slowly but steadily improved after that. He even seemed to overcome his shyness over the course of the training session.

Above the sunken cart tracks, two other men observed the new recruit. The larger of the two men sighed into his hand and shook his head.

“Oi… New Scout has long way to go… What does Doktor think? …Doktor?”

The man next to him was simply just staring at the new recruit with a look of… well, hard to say for sure.

“For ze first time, I am speechless.”

[xxxevilfilms]

The Osaka Bowl | Chapter 9

Info: A dirty fic collection featuring Asuka getting acquainted with some of the Tekken studs and a few gals. Viewer discretion is advised, a lot of these get a little icky.

Summary: Hwoarang enjoys provoking Asuka in hopes of getting into another brawl with Jin, a ploy that Asuka begins questioning the validity of when she's cornered by him in an alley one day.

Warnings: Age Difference (Asuka is 16, Hwoarang is 22), Sexual Harrassment, Bullying, Anal Sex/Fisting/Gaping

Drop Dead! | Asuka Kazama x Hwoarang

Ao3 Link

“Yo, dollface!”

Asuka cringes, brow twitching as she continues practicing her katas, attempting to ignore the rowdy punk who seems never to get sick of bothering her. She turns the music up in her earbuds and closes her eyes, body swaying and swinging to the beat of a song as she tries to maintain focus.

“Oi!”

Asuka doesn't hear him call for her this time, but she can feel the thump of his feet across tatami mats and wooden floorboards. She resists the urge to open her eyes and instead prays that some holy power out there will do her the favor of smiting this yankee where he stands and make her life a little easier, but of course, it's never that simple. As she slid her feet across the mat, arms striking the air with hidden strength, her back collides with something broad and warm, a hard chest that vibrates when she makes contact with him. Asuka sighs loudly, an exasperated sigh that she hopes (it won't) will send a message that she doesn't want to be bothered, but when does he ever take no for an answer?

She plucks her earbuds out of her ears to tuck them into her obi before whirling around to give the ire of her eye a reaming. 

“The hell do you want this time, creep!?” She then looks down, sees that he's still wearing his boots inside her father's dojo, and grits her teeth. “And what do you think you're doing, walking in here like a barn animal? Don't you have any respect!?”

“Tsk, someone's bitchy today...” Hwoarang sucks his teeth and stuffs his hands in his pocket. “Well, that ain't nothing new. You're always bitchy.”

“If you're looking for Jin, he left to get me some snacks, so if you want him to beat your ass again, go to the corner store! Now shoo, shoo!” She waves her hands his way in disgust.

“Not only are we bitchy today, we're delusional, too.” He circles her, stance hunched so he can look at her face, scrunched from consternation. “I didn't come here for that asshole. If I wanna beat his head in, I'll do it when I'm in the mood.”

“Well get out then, I don't wanna see your face again!” She crosses her arms and steps away from him. “I just wanna train in peace...”

“C'mon, doll, the fuck is with you playing hard to get, huh? I'm starting to think you're messin’ with me a little.” He steps right up to her, hard chest against her back again, fingers suddenly playing with her hair. “I bet you got half the boys in your class by the balls, huh? One look and it's over? Hell, wouldn't surprise me if that fuckwad cousin of yours wants a taste of that little cunt, too.”

“You're sick...” Asuka tries to move past him. “Now get out, I don't have time--!”

Asuka flinches, yelping in pain when he grabs her by the hair, pulling at roots in her scalp that make the younger girl cringe.

“Don't have time for what? For me?” He pulled her back to him, fingers weaving into her hair like spiders in a cobweb. “Stick around, I'll make it worth your while.”

“Leave me alone, you bastard!” Asuka yells, fingers digging into his wrist. “I don't wanna talk to a low-down, backwoods punk like you, so leave !”

“What, you gonna ditch me so you can go kiss niichan a little on the dick?” Hwoarang smirks, tongue running over white teeth and a sharp canine as his gaze wanders. “If you want it so bad, why don't you say so?” The hand that wasn't pulling her hair smacks her ass, a move that brings Asuka’s blood to a boil.

“Back off...!” Asuka raises her hand and slaps him on his right cheek, the force of her hand catching him off guard enough for her to shake him off. She immediately scurries away from him to make a beeline to the wall, trying to put as much distance between herself and him as physically possible.

Asuka stares daggers at him, hand clutching her beating heart while Hwoarang just stands there, nursing his cheek with his hand as he regards her with a predatory grin.

It's always like this whenever she sees him, an uncomfortable game of cat and mouse that only Hwoarang seems to enjoy. There was a time not too long ago when Hwoarang wasn’t aware of her existence, but that all changed when Asuka made the foolish mistake of making herself known to him when she broke up a brawl between him and Jin one day. Now he’s always up her ass, doing things to Asuka that Hwoarang knows will piss Jin off if he ever found out. Asuka however deals with the hair pulling, ass slapping, and skirt flipping in stride and refuses to tattle to Jin about it; the last thing she’d ever want to do is make Hwoarang happy and give him the unhinged brawl he so desperately sought from Jin. 

Yeah, she was petty enough and loved her cousin enough to do that for him, but it was still super annoying to deal with.

“Tsk, you bitch...” Hwoarang rubs his skin, eyes dark. “That actually hurt.”

“Don't take another step.” Asuka threatens him, assuming a defensive stance. “I'll kick your ass and leave the scraps for Jin if you do!”

“Well c'mon then, Kazama.” His boots tap along the tatami again, carrying a massive man with massive weight that can easily challenge her buck thirty frame. “I'm waiting.”

Asuka gulped, limbs shaking, her stance wobbling as Hwoarang stalks towards her. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, preparing for the worst, but the sound of dojo doors shuddering and her big cousin's deep voice fills Asuka with a sense of hope.

“Hwoarang,” Jin called out to him. “Leave her alone.”

Asuka watched Hwoarang's smile turn into a grimace, lips muttering a silent curse as he turned away from his prey like a scolded dog.

“Fuckin’ prick...” He sneered.

“Aniki!” Asuka ran past Hwoarang to huddle behind Jin. “Run this perv's pockets right now!”

“Can't you pick on someone your own size?” Jin sighs, glaring daggers at Hwoarang. “Why must you mess with a little girl?”

“She ain't little and I didn't do shit to her...” Hwoarang grumbles, hands tucked into his pockets as he makes his way out. “She started it.”

“Liar!”

“Somehow I doubt that...”

“Fine, whatever, believe what you want,” He pushed past Jin's shoulder, earning him a death glare from Asuka. “Keep that bitch on a leash, and maybe I won't come looking for her.”

Asuka, visibly appalled by Hwoarang's lies, tries going after him, but is stopped by Jin.

“You'll only make things worse.” He pulls her back and hands her her bag full of snacks. “Here, you still wanted some lunch, right?”

“Yeah...” She grabbed it from him and nodded her head in thanks, face still twisted. “Seriously, if I weren’t so nice...”

“He will get at you to get at me, but I won't let him have the satisfaction. I will challenge him when I feel like it.” He guided Asuka back to the center of the dojo and made her sit. “Let's settle down for now, you need a break.”

“Yes, aniki...”

“Did he do anything to you I should be aware of?”

“...No.” She lies, knows she shouldn't but she does anyway. A marked sense of pride, disgust, and some shame colors her decision to tell Jin the extent of Hwoarang's harassment, things Jin would gladly beat Hwoarang's ass for, but Asuka refuses to add a yankee punk to the list of things Jin has to deal with.

He gives her a look, but doesn't press her on it.

“If you say so...” He sits next to her and pulls out things from the bag. “They had a 3 for 5 sale on katsu curry. Figured you'd want some.”

“Ohh!” Her eyes brighten up. “Is it extra spicy?”

“Could be, I didn't look.” He cracks open a can of green tea. “You don't need anything spicy, anyway; you'll get an ulcer that way.”

“Blehh~ Niichan is such an old man!” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Live a little, an ulcer isn't gonna kill ya!”

“Don't come crying to me when you have a burning hole in your gut then...”

“I'm here for a good time, not a long time~ ”

Asuka and Jin ate their lunch in peace, worries of Hwoarang momentarily gone now that she was with her cousin.

Asuka didn't think of that redheaded punk until the next morning, when she had to get ready for school. He had a habit of ambushing her when she rode her bike to school, so she made sure to vary her route every so often just to avoid him. Today would be no different, and to really make sure she didn't risk running into him, she rode her bike in the back alleys of her neighborhood.

“What a pain...” Asuka grumbles as she bites into her fruit sandwich. “I can't wait till he buzzes off back to Korea. Whenever that'll be...”

“Can't wait to get rid of me, huh?”

Asuka jumps and spins around in shock, nearly choking on a piece of chewed up strawberry when she sees him standing behind her.

“Y-You...!” She coughs and holds her throat, trying not to choke. “The hell are you doing here?? How long have you been following me!?

“Would it even fuckin’ matter if I told you? You'd flip your shit regardless.”

“It matters to me!” She yelled. “Look, can this wait until later or something? I got school and I'd hate to be late cuz I had to teach some lolicon a lesson!”

“Man, you must really be asking for it if you're acting this spicy.” He approaches her, hands in his pockets as his eyebrows narrow. “Your mouth is writin’ some checks your body can't cash, dollface.”

“Ha! Do your worst.” She threw her sandwich aside to step up to him. “I don't care what you do, Jin has a lot more to worry about than dumb little brats like you!”

“You still think I give a fuck about that asshole?” He frowns. “Whatever we got goin’ on has nothing to do with him, Kazama.”

“Bull crap ! You just can't wait till I crack and spill the beans to him, all cuz of a rematch!? You should be ashamed, everyone you know and love should be ashamed!”

“Trust me, once I saw how fuckin’ stubborn you were, I knew that plan wasn't goin’ nowhere,” He rolls his eyes. “Call me a sap, but I'm more than just a pretty face, doll.”

“H-Huh?” Asuka, confused, crosses her arms. “What are you...?”

“What, are you retarded or some shit?” Hwoarang closes the distance between them, forcing Asuka's back against the wall. “What if I just wanna have a little fun with you, huh? Is that so bad?”

“W-What!?” Asuka shrinks back, taken aback by Hwoarang's proposition. “W-Wait, you actually like me? Like, like me , like me!? I thought you hated my guts!”

“You annoy the ever loving shit out of me, but I wouldn't say I hate you.” He cocks his head and smirks her way. “You're too cute to hate.”

“Ah!” Asuka covers her face with gloved hands, too embarrassed to look at him. “D-Don’t say that!”

“Say what?” He holds his arm against the wall now, caging her. “That you're cute?”

“Yes, that, please, stop that !”

To think that this disrespectful yankee punk actually likes her, her of all people! She should feel embarrassed that she even let him get away with all the crap he pulled and should feel more embarrassed that she's even reacting the way she is. Hwoarang isn't supposed to make her feel hot and flustered; he should make her feel anger, hatred, maybe even disgust, but not whatever... this was!

“Yo, dollface, you good?”

Asuka doesn't have the heart to respond, just shakes her head, refusing to give him an answer.

She then hears him sigh, an exaggerated gasp of air that Asuka still doesn't want to acknowledge. She expects Hwoarang to tease her for her bashfulness, but the words that came from his big mouth only exacerbate the warm little fuzzy feeling in her belly.

“Asuka,” He says her name, for the first time since she's known him she actually addresses her properly. “Hey, quit hiding and lookit me, dammit.”

Asuka's hands slowly slide off her face revealing, shimmering brown eyes that stare at Hwoarang's chest. Her head feels hot, almost feels like she's running a fever when Hwoarang lifts her school cap from her head.

“Why so shy all of a sudden? Not like you to keep your mouth shut.”

“No one...” She clears her throat. “No one except my mom has ever called me “cute” before...”

Asuka never considered herself cute; certainly not ugly, but definitely not cute. Boys preferred petite, debonair women with little waists and little legs, not strong, tall girls like her.

“Well, you are,” Hwoarang's eyes wander again, deep dark eyes scanning plump lips and fat cheeks. Asuka has a mind to watch where he's looking but doesn't find a reason to.

“I'd say you're pretty damn hot, all things considered.”

“ Hentai ...” Asuka pouts. “You're just saying that...”

“Wanna bet?” He leans down, brushes her cheek with his knuckle. “You really wanna try me right now, Kazama?”

“W-What are you...?”

“I wanna kiss you,” He holds her neck in his hand now, a gentle squeeze around her jugular that Asuka actually finds some comfort in. “Can I kiss you?”

“B-But I never...kissed a guy.”

“It's okay,” He gets even closer, breath warming her nose. “Neither have I.”

Asuka tries to turn the other cheek, but is stopped by Hwoarang who used the hand that wasn’t holding her neck to make her look at him.

“Just a lil’ one then you can slap the shit outta me later, okay?”

Asuka closes her eyes but doesn’t move away when he presses his lips to hers, kissing her with such tenderness that it throws her off guard. It’s chaste, almost virginal like her, and ends as soon as it starts, the older man leaving a burning mark on her lips when he pulls away. Hwoarang still remains close to her though, only a hair’s length away from her lips. He brushes some hair from her eyes when he notices a few stray locks sweep across her forehead.

“That good?” He asks.

“M-Mm.” She nods her head.

“I’m gonna do it again.”

She looks up at him now, watches him close the gap again. This time he stays longer, actually moves his lips against hers. Asuka flinches a little at a spark that starts at her neck and goes down her spine. Hwoarang doesn’t seem to notice, takes her lack of resistance as a sign to go further, and parts his lips. Asuka lets him, but is too shy to reciprocate, her inexperience holding her back. Hwoarang doesn't seem to like her passiveness and sucks on her bottom lip, tongue wetting her skin, making her mouth reflexively coming apart. It lets Hwoarang slide his tongue along her own so he could make out with her properly. 

“Nghh...” Asuka moans, surprised at how good it felt to kiss him. Not even 24 hours ago, Asuka would've gagged at the thought of letting Hwoarang do this to her, but now, much to her shock (and horror), she doesn't mind it.

Hwoarang reaches deep enough to hold her tongue now, sucking on it like its candy as he pulls it from her mouth. Asuka lets him do it, too out of her mind to protest, hands bracing themselves on bulging biceps so she couldn't collapse to the ground. He sucks it, licks it, even brings a thumb to her lips to keep them apart so he could bite at it a little, and Asuka can't find the will to deny him.

“Fuck...” A wet pop precedes his curse when he lets go of her tongue, a bridge of heavy spit following his soaked lips and wet chin when he stands upright, thumb still planted firmly in her mouth. Asuka doesn't spit it out though, doesn't really find a reason to and doesn't really want to. She sucks on it like how he sucked on her tongue, a silent plea for so much more than whatever he was giving her. Hwoarang audibly hisses at that and thrusts it in and out, pressing it into her teeth and making her hold it there as his eyes roam her hot body.

“I guess you got two choices, baby doll.” He chuckles, looking smug. “You can either skip school, hang with me for the day, or,” He takes his thumb away from her and wipes her mess on her cheek.

“I can leave you like this, wet and horny, wondering why you let a stud like me get away.”

Asuka blinks, suddenly becoming aware of responsibilities that Hwoarang was impeding her from, or rather impeding herself from. She has homework that she needs to turn in and a test that she needs to take for English class, obligations that supersede Hwoarang, but she is a slave to her id.

While twiddling her thumbs, Asuka gazes up at Hwoarang, her question just as demure as her.

“...Do you live nearby?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hwoarang brought her to a live-in hotel he was staying at, his retreat when he wasn't hustling people for money or performing in tournaments. It's small, but clean, an unmade bed and a pile of dirty laundry that sat next to the door the only things out of place when she came in. She'd usually care about that sort of thing if she wasn't on his bed, stripping for a man who looked up at her body like she was a big juicy steak.

She kneels between thickly built thighs, peering down at tanned skin and broad muscles as she fiddles with the hook to her bra. Hwoarang watches with anticipation, laying against off-white sheets as his hands caress her hips, enjoying the show she inadvertently puts on for him, but Asuka hesitates, suddenly self-conscious. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and hunches over, groaning in embarrassment again.

“What's wrong with you?” He bounces her a little. “C'mon, it was just gettin’ good.”

“I'm worried...” Asuka pouts. “That you won't like ‘em...”

“They're titties, babe, what the fucks not to like about titties?”

“I dunno...” She turns the other way. “Sure, they're big but it ain't like they're good looking or anything...”

Asuka's breasts were big, but they hung off her chest too much for her liking and one was a little bigger than the other, features that put her at odds with the perfect, perky boobies she encounters in her school locker room.

Hwoarang however laughs at her plight.

“Man, I dunno why you chicks care so much about that shit. Tits are tits, I wasn't just pawing at them to piss you off, ya know.”

“Don't remind me, you cad!”

“So, show ‘em off.” 

Asuka sighs before sitting up to unhook her bra from the front, releasing big fat tits that bounce and jiggle along her slender chest. Hwoarang whistles suggestively at the sight.

“Beautiful, baby.” His hands slide over her hips, along her sides, and stop just below her chest. “Nothing beats a good pair of big natural tits.”

“S-So now what...?” Asuka huffs. “If you think I'm gonna have sex with you, think again. Those sweet words ain't gonna swoon me!”

“Says the girl sitting on my dick, shakin’ her jugs at me...”

“I'm only doing this to keep you away from Niichan,” She spat, hoping that excuse would suffice. “I'm not letting some punk pop my cherry...”

“S'fine, you don't have to.” 

“Huh?”

“Virgin fucks are a drag anyway. All the crying and bleeding and shit kills the mood, rather stick my dick in an anthill than deal with your mess.”

Asuka turns her lip, not sure whether to be mad or grateful for that.

“Uh, okay...?” She raises her brow. “Well, you’re the expert, what are we gonna do?”

Hwoarang's eyes shift downward, settling on the rim of her shorts.

“I want your ass.”

Asuka is silent for a moment.

“ N-Nanda... ?”

“Your ass.” He says again. “I want it.”

“I heard what you said!” She barks. “Just why that of all things??”

“Cuz I like ass, especially an ass like this,” He massages her hips again. “Nice, tight, fat ,” His hands slip behind her waist to grope her buttocks. “Love to slide my cock in this cute bubble butt.”

“But...wouldn't that hurt?”

“If I prep you good, it won't.” 

“R-Really? I thought doing it up the butt was hard...”

“Nah, babe. It feels good,” He helps himself to the button of her shorts, undoing it with one motion. Asuka doesn't stop him. “Feels really good.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah,” His tongue swipes his teeth when he tucks his thumbs into her waistband. “Good when you ain't ready to pop it yet. Just gotta lube you up, stretch you out, get you nice and wet for it.” He pulls her shorts and her panties down, revealing a neatly trimmed pubis. “I'll make it feel real good.”

Asuka instinctually lifts her butt so Hwoarang could slide the rest of her bottoms off, tantalized by the thought. She figured anal sex would be painful, but Hwoarang made it sound alluring, a great alternative to traditional sex.

“Mmm, that's hot...” Hwoarang sits up and motions for her to turn around. “Show me your hole, baby.”

Asuka kicks off clothes that gather around her ankles before turning around, heart beating in her throat again. She lowers her chest to the bed as she raises her ass in the air, presenting herself to him like a bitch would to a hound. Hwoarang wastes little time following after her, propping himself on scarred knees to cup milky white ass cheeks.

“Fuck, lookit this ass ,” He smooths his palms over her skin. “You got some meat on you, baby...” He gives her right cheek a light swat that Asuka gasps at.

“Don't tease me...”

“Ain't teasing you, doll,” He hooks his fingers into her flesh and spreads her ass apart. “Just stating facts.”

Asuka flinches when cool air hits her warm hole, moist from slick and sweat. Hwoarang touches it with his thumb, presses on it, prods it with the tip, testing its tightness. It makes Asuka grunt, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable by any means.

“Cute, tight little hole...” She feels something hot and wet drip over her ass following his comment, undoubtedly his spit. “Can’t wait to open you up.”

Asuka naively expects something big and hard to enter her, but much to her surprise (and pleasure) she feels something hot and slick compliment the warm spit that dribbled over her anus. Hwoarang leaned down and used his tongue to flick at her hole, rolling it around in tight circles as he savored the taste of her puckered flesh. Asuka moans into her folded arms and sticks her rear out more for him then.

“A-Ah...”

Hwoarang is meticulous if not a little overeager at his task. He holds her hip and works his thumb along the rim of her puckered entrance as he ate her out, tongue swiping and sliding incessantly against it as if it were the last thing he'll ever get to eat. He did wonders unwinding the tension in her ass, winking hole relaxing just enough for him to work his tongue inside her.

Asuka moans at the wet heat that fills her and pushes against his mouth, desperate for it. He gives her another playful swat on the ass before diving back in for more, thumbs hooking into her hole this time to hold it open for his greedy tongue.

“H-Hwoarang, oh my gosh, that's...!”

Hwoarang swats her again, shutting her up, both hands suddenly gripping her hips when her hole catches on his tongue. Asuka buries her face into the mattress and moans like a whore at that, unable to hold her noises back. It's wriggling against nerves she never knew existed, prepping her for something much better than this; if this is what a tongue can do to her, who knows what kind of sexual awakenings she'll have once he shoves his cock in her?

Hwoarang finds the will to pull his tongue away from her ass, middle finger quickly taking its place so he could catch his breath. He pumps it at a languid, steady pace, entranced by the way her little hole clings and stretches around his knuckle when he pulls it away. It's stiffer than his tongue and fills her more, but it still feels insanely good.

“ Fuuuck , baby, you taste amazing...” He spits on her more so he could add another finger. “You're taking it so fucking well, holy shit...” He thrusts both digits inside, as deep as they can go, hole sinking in on itself under the force of his hand. “I could play with this little butt all day...”

“A-Are...” Asuka swallows spit that gathered in her mouth. “Are you gonna put it in me now...?”

“Nah, baby, not yet,” Hwoarang shook his head before leaning over the bed to grab something from a nightstand. “You're not ready, trust me.”

“How long is this gonna take...?” Asuka whimpers out. “I...I think I can--!”

Asuka flinches violently when something cold, thick, and slippery drips over her skin.

“G-Gah, what is that!?”

“Relax, it's just lube,” He keeps his fingers inside her as he smears it on her hole. “Just gonna keep you loose for me, it's okay.”

“It feels weird...” She grunts, brow twitching when he pulls his hand back, three fingers now entering her when he shoves them back inside. They come apart and scissor her open this time, raking against rigid walls of muscle.

“N-Not bad though. Do you always have this stuff laying around?”

“I try.” He shifts a little before settling down, a piece of clothing landing somewhere on the ground. Asuka gulps but doesn’t complain.

“Why do you like doing girls in the butt?”

“Just do,” Asuka hears him squeeze more lube, but a subtle squelch assures her that it was being applied elsewhere. “Love pussy, but if I can get some ass, I’m all for it.”

“Ah,” Asuka arches her back. A fourth finger, his pinky, slips inside of her. His knuckles flex and his wrist twists as he works his hand into her, rim of her hole puffy and pink as it sucks along his palm. Hwoarang curses at the sight and rotates his hand like a dial, in love with how stuffed she looked.

“Fuck, yeah...” The squelch she hears grows louder. “Lil’ more, doll, then you’ll be good...”

“I feel really full...” Asuka sits up a little. “But I like it a lot...”

“Ready for more, baby?” Hwoarang folds his thumb in, pulling out just enough to allow it successful entry. “Can I make you gape?”

“I...I guess so,” She’s drooling a little. “You’re gonna make me come if we keep this up...”

“Go ahead, that’s what I want,” Hwoarang pushes his entire hand forward, growling like an animal when he hears Asuka's mewls. He feeds her hole his fingers, his knuckles, and his thumb, before finally giving it his wrist. It causes white hot, almost painful pleasure to bloom in her ass then, a sensation that's so overwhelming, Asuka very nearly keels over at the intensity of it all. She thinks it can't get any better until Hwoarang pumps his fist, little thrusts of his arm that makes her come from her ass for the first time.

Asuka yells out loud, belly flexing and toes curling as hot slippery slick shoots from her untouched cunt.

“Oh fuck yes ,” He keeps pumping his wrist, mesmerized by what he made of her. “Let it out, baby, lemme see how good I make this ass feel.”

“H-Hwoarang, Hwoarang ...!” Asuka grips the bed sheets tightly, pussy clenching around nothing. “I want...! I can’t...!”

She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for anymore, just knows Hwoarang needs to do something about it now before she gets too wound up for her own good.

“I hear you, doll, I hear ya,”

Asuka feels incredibly empty when Hwoarang pulls his hand out, but she isn’t without him for long. The older man mounts her, slapping big hands on her cheeks again as he lines himself up along her gaping anus. He then slathers more lube on her as well as on his cock before tossing it to the bed somewhere, fingers digging into the fat of her rear as he rocks his prick against her swollen entrance.

He feels big and Asuka loves it.

Hwoarang says nothing when he slides inside, rendered speechless by a sputtering hole and shuddering muscles that suck him in deep, aided deliciously by dripping lubricant. Too loose and too wet to reject him, Hwoarang goes as deep as he can, filling Asuka’s ass up with something much hotter, heavier, and thicker than what his fist could give her.

“O-Oh!” Asuka braces herself against the sheets when Hwoarang pulls out, rim of her hole coming with him. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh ...” She tucks her head into her arms, legs trembling. “You're so big, you're so freaking big...”

“Fuck yeah, baby, I know,” He sounds smug when he pulls back, tip of his cock caught on the edge of her anus. “But you're clingin’ to me so good, like you're made for it.” He pushes back in slowly, teasing her. “You made for takin’ cock, baby girl?”

Hwoarang spanks her, a hard one that comes down on her left cheek.

“Yes...” She says, voice muffled by her hands. “I like your cock, I like what it does to me...”

“What does it do to you, doll?” He stirs it around. “Does it make you horny?”

“Isn’t it obvious...?” She bites her lip, suddenly frustrated. “Please, Hwoarang, quit bein’ a jerk for once and do me already...”

“So needy, baby~” Hwoarang reels his hips back before plunging back in, fucking her at a pace that satisfies her. “Should've said somethin’ earlier, I would’ve fed it what it wants,”

Asuka’s eyelids flutter close, ass rocking in time with Hwoarang’s cock. She’s glad that she let Hwoarang prep her for as long as he did because if not, Asuka was sure this would’ve been a painful experience for her. He’s fucking and rutting into her like this isn’t her first time taking it up the ass, hammering an enormous cock so deep into her colon it’s almost like she can feel him in her stomach. It’s a strange yet incredibly pleasant feeling that she enjoys, made even better by Hwoarang’s silver tongue whispering in her ear.

“You ass is so greedy, Kazama,” He laughs. “Should see the way this little hole is stretching around me, baby girl, holy fuck .”

“I-Is that bad...?”

“Nah, you want it a little sloppy, baby.” A hard thrust pokes at that godforsaken spot in her again. “Don’t gotta prep ya long if your hole is loose,” Another thrust followed by a bite to her ear. “So I can just fuck you when I feel like it.”

“Y-You mean we can...! Uh,” Asuka reels back the excitement in her voice, not wanting to sound desperate. Even in her mess she can’t help but be bratty. “We’re gonna do this again?”

“I wasn’t gonna have you just once, Kazama.” A harsh cant of his narrow hips takes the air from his lungs. “Only bitch on this side of Tokyo who can take a fist no problem.”

She scowls. “We’re in Osaka, jackass...”

“Yeah, yeah, tomato, tomahto,” He goes faster, balls spanking her pussy. “Now c’mon, throw that ass back for me, dollface, I’m almost there.”

Asuka wonders if she should, but knows she’s too horny to follow through with a threat. Sucking in a breath, Asuka pumps her hips back, meeting Hwoarang’s thrusts.

“That good?” She asks. “You feeling it?”

“Fuck yeah, I am...” Hwoarang reaches for something again. “This one’s goin’ down in the record books, god damn .”

“Hm, w-what are you doing...?” She slows down a little.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“...You’re not taking a picture of this, are you!?”

“...No.”

A camera jingle confirms her suspicions.

“Liar, liar!”

“So what the fuck does it matter to you? Ain’t like I’m showing this to anyone.”

“It’s the principal!” She bites back and then pouts. “...You’re making me feel like a floozy...”

“Ugh, this shit again, killin’ the damn mood...” He grumbles. “You’re not a slut, alright? I just want something to wack off to if you aren’t around.”

Asuka’s gaze shifts to her right.

“...Promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

“O-Okay...” She gets back to it. “If I find this anywhere, you’re mince meat...”

“This shit’s all for me, babe, don’t worry.” He slides his hand to her right cheek to spread her open more. “Oh yeah, work it, baby, show me how much you want it.”

Asuka ignores another jingle that came from Hwoarang’s phone and chases her high again, eager to get both of them coming. She eventually forgets about the phone entirely to pay more attention to how full she is and how good her ass feels. She tucks her head back down and bounces on Hwoarang's prick the way he wants her to, moving up when he pulls out and sliding back down when he goes back in, creating delicious friction that tempts Asuka enough for her to rub her clit.

“Ooh yeah, that's good,” Hwoarang spanks her for that one. “Get into it, doll, let's see that kitty purr,”

God, what a perv, Asuka thinks to herself, finger going faster. He's either taking a shot or recording her, one of the two, but she guesses it doesn't matter. Hwoarang, much to her chagrin, makes her feel hot when he talks like that, so she keeps going, fingers finding their way to her pussy when her clit gets too sensitive.

“You sound so fuckin’ wet,” He adjusts himself, cock fucking her so deep and fast, it nearly makes her topple over. “Holy shit, I’m almost there, baby, I’m almost there...”

“I think I am, too...” Asuka moaned.

“I wanna bust in your ass, doll, can I do it? Can I cream in your hole?”

“M-Mhmm...” She nods, fine with pushing it out later. “Go ahead...”

Hwoarang didn’t need to be told twice.

“Take it, baby, take it,” His hips stutter and his fingers clench when he reaches his limit. “Oh, shit ...!”

He moans deep and low, cock pulsing erratically in her battered asshole when he comes, filling Asuka with hot sticky seed that quickly warms her guts. It feels so weird, but feels so good, the sensation of getting fucked and filled at the same time sending Asuka over the edge once more.

“Oh gosh, Hwoarang,” She shakes, middle finger buried deep in her cunt as she came around him again. “So good, you make me feel so good...”

“Fuck yeah, I do...” He pulls out one last time, empties what's left in his balls on the rim of her dripping hole and pink ass cheeks. “Man, so fuckin’ pretty, love it when I can make a bitch gape,” His hand is back on her ass, spreading it apart so he could see how good he ruined it. “Should see how good I fucked this sweet hole, babe, like you got carved out.”

“T-That’s still not a bad thing, right?” Asuka clenches, or at least tries to. Her anus feels a lot less tight than what it should be.

“You might be a lil’ sore back here, but you’ll survive.” He dips his thumb inside of her to keep it open still, loving the way his seed drips over his nail. “One more for the books, babe, wanna shake it a little for me?”

“Drop dead! I want no part in your skeevy little skin flick anymore!”

“Tsk, fine be that way.” A final camera shutter then she hears him toss it to bed. “There, I’m done, you can quit the waterworks now.”

“Jerk...” Asuka frowns, frowns even harder when she flips over on her side, hole numb and uncomfortably wet. “It feels weird back there now...”

“You’ll get used to it,” He brushes back red locks from his sweating forehead. “You doin’ anything later?”

“Well, it’s too late for me to go to school, so I guess not.”

“Wanna grab a bite?”

“Are you...?” She looks him over. “Are you askin’ me out?”

“I might be.” He cocks his head. “You let me ream you, least I can do is treat you for it.”

“You really are a jerk...”

“You let this jerk come in your ass, so I must be doing something right.” He sniggers. “C’mon, Kazama, enough with the bad bitch act already. You gotta at least pretend you hate me.”

“I do hate you! I hate your stinkin’ guts!”

“Blah, blah, blah, here,” He reaches for his nightstand again and hands her a menu. “There’s a BBQ place up the street, pick what you want and we’ll get something.”

“Hmm...” She scrutinizes the menu, stomach growling at the food she sees while her brows crinkle at the prices. “This place is pretty expensive...”

“Don’t worry about that, I got it covered,” He gets off the bed and grabs his phone. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“A-Alright...” She scans through it more. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Asuka watches Hwoarang go into the bathroom, staring at the door when he closes it. It’s only when he’s out of her face did Asuka let her true feelings show.

“I can’t believe it...” Her cheeks burn red. “My first date ever and I give it up to the first guy who called me cute...!”

She isn’t sure whether to squeal or scream at the thought.

While Asuka stewed in her newfound emotions, Hwoarang stood over his bathtub, untying the bun keeping his hair up as he sifted through the pictures and videos he took of Asuka on his phone. He wrote captions on them and neatly arranged them in an empty chat box before sending them to a specific contact on his phone.

Hwoarang then sent an eggplant and peach emoji for good measure.

“Sorry, baby, I ain’t gonna lie to you again after this one.” He whispers to himself. “Pinky promise~”

Once his message delivers, Hwoarang turns the shower on and steps inside, grinning like a fox.

This fight was gonna be legendary...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jin thought staying at the Kazama residence was what he needed to keep himself focus, the respite he needed as he planned what course of action to take against his father, but as he stands in the middle of his uncle’s dojo, eyes glued to the images on his phone, Jin could feel the devil inside of his heart pull against his chains.

He silently read the transparent caption over and over in his head, glaring daggers at the man who dared to pose over the overfilled back end that was his baby cousin’s asshole.

“Can you believe it? A bonafide butt slut! Just popped her cherry today😈!”

The screen splits and crackles as Jin’s grip on his phone tightens, unable to tear himself away from Asuka’s baby pink hole, drenched with and filled to the brim with come as Hwoarang made a “hang loose” sign with his hand. Her moans of ecstacy, moans that should’ve been brought on by him, long after he succeeded conquering his devil and bringing down his progenitors, causes blood to pump to his cock, a sensation that makes Jin’s head run wild. That should’ve been his hole to claim, his ass to breed; how the hell did Asuka let such an obnoxious bastard seduce her like this?

How long has this been going on...?

Jin crushes his phone completely in his hand then, taking note to buy a new one later.

He’ll ask Asuka about this later; his prick was too hard and his temper was too high to even entertain the thought of engaging in anything that didn’t involve fucking or fighting. That damn yankee punk had better explain himself before he becomes a stain on the wall.

[tasmanianstripes]

Sometimes The Dread and inner critic gets to me about. Oh no, are my AUs and the way I write characters too far removed from canon? And while I normally try to beat these fears back with a stick because genuienly who gives a fuck, it's not hurting anyone and I'm having lots of fun, if I can extend "cringe culture is dead, kill your inner critic and go have fun as long as it's not hurting anyone" to other people I should give myself the same amount of grace

But this fear is genuienly so funny in my current interest, HK, where my main blorbos are goddamn. THK and PK. Two characters whose appearances in the game and known personality traits could be counted on one hand. Maybe two hands if you're generous. THK pretty much has no canon personality to speak of. I've seen so many different interpretations of them. Genuinely fearing that my interpretation of a boss with no dialogue and like 5 appearances in the game is too OOC is just objectively funny.

Like generally I would drive these fears out to the middle of nowhere and shoot them execution style already, but the added bonus of that fact makes it easier

[the-firebird69]

John Cena would not weigh anywhere near as much and he would not be as dense and he can actually ramp up his training for the moment to ensure that he'd be safer and it's true and bulk up so he'd weigh about 350 and John Cena will weigh about 295 so you'd have only £55 on him and it wouldn't look like too much john Cena would be at 6 foot 2 a son would be a little taller 6 foot 3 and look bulky and he would look bulkier than John Cena would look fake and really he's wrestled before and John Cena would have a problem but he's a professional wrestler so it's a matter of Braun versus skill and knowledge and it would be a test because it's a test of a system of people who are not well trained versus someone who is and the max might go for it but we don't think John Cena is gonna be around. He might be this process might take longer than what was saying. I don't think so we think the civil war happens coming up after October and ends in April by that time our son is not going to be that huge no he might be but at that time is a bad time he would just polished off Trump and it would be an ugly thing we hear things trying to do it and it's not going anywhere and the max want to try and do it too they figured out they're not doing anything it's a good idea though so his son says 6 foot 3 and after his next spurt outwards and Tommy F agrees and he says it's gonna flave and I said I don't I don't think they let that happen in the ring anymore nothing on there if you're being a sword I'm gonna stick it up your **** that's what flay that's fla means So we see him cringing and Ken is saying I don't want you to wrestle Spangali you're gonna ruin my nights watching TV and everybody's laughing. But really it's true but he wants to wrestle him for the car and to be able to make the car you have to make it the same you have to try and hunt bg down he'd find him in New Jersey working out in the gym boxing and to our son he looked like he wasn't rocky and he'd leave and it looked like rocky it's water weight not welterweight his heavyweight. The challenge has been issued I did go through the trouble of getting approved and I do approve it for that point. What might happen is the humongous might stand in and give him a thrashing and 6 foot 4 and full of muscle may come out that's the song we shall see.

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

I can't let you do it you can't be seen beating us all sorts of **** **** happens i'll have to step in.

trump

So you're gonna pretend you're me somehow which never works you gonna try and get to 6 foot 3 and full of muscle and challenge Tommy F to a wrestling match to try and get the car.

Zues Hera

That's what I'm going to do and it's my car not yours. It's your design but it's not your car says it's my design and you're just the builder and since it's my design it's not really John Cena's either it's not his car so if you win it we're gonna take it from you he says over my dead body and really I shouldn't have to answer this he says

tump

good

Hera

[maguro13-2]

The Actual 100% Completion Award (Inspired by Stomp Vs Audience)

Balan : Welcome ladies and genltemens to the 100% completion award show. As your reward for collecting everything to get a 100% completion we won't be doing the musical number

Leo : (to Emma) Eh, what?

Emma : (To Leo) What did he say?

Balan : Unfortunately, the 100% completion award from sunshine was just a postcard from Isle Delfino, which Mario got pissed for getting blamed on ruining their island and had their leader go bananas on over a postcard from the hotel's casino. (Clears throat) Okay boys and girls of the video game, mangaka, anime inudstry. For winning and collecting every single trophy of mine to collect, I give you a different show than me showing my hot humanoid face. Please put hands together for...The Stomp!

Leo : (to Emma) : What's a stomp?

Emma : That's not part of the 100% completion reward.

Balan : Stomp performed by creative artists, the STOMP group!

(the STOMP cast rhythmically clangs on their trash cans loudly, much to the irritation of the audience.)

Cloud : This is what fans of our company get a 100% completion award?

Tifa : This looks more irritated than the game itself! I should've know that it was stupid to have a Sega veteran work for us!

Sephiroth : I'm still not interested on whether I give humanity into Despair or I see some kids bang pots and pans at the park for free.

(The STOMP leader continues his loud clanging.)

Yuffie : Oh for the love of God! This is why we can't have nice things for Square Enix! I wished this would stop performing and never do a 100% completion award! It's way worse than the postcard from Isle Delfino! I wish this would end well!

Leo : You sure this is a good idea to have a Stomp crew banging on something?

Emma : I believe that cloud and the other Square Enix veterans are not interested with the 100% completion award.

Balan : What are you kids talking about? This is the perfect idea for having a show for all players to a 100% completion award. I wonder how fans of Square Enix will here about this one!

(The clanging continues as the audience cringes, complains, and groans loudly.)

Cloud : [fed up] Oh,That's it! I just had about enough of this crap!

Sephiroth : [fed up] I'm taking my business elsewhere!

Zack Fair : [fed up] I'm getting myself a refund for this one!

(One by one, several audience members get out of their seats with a creak, exit the theater, and demand their refunds at the cash register by stamping the word: "REFUND" on their tickets. All of these sounds are set to a STOMP-like rhythm; seeing all of this happen, the STOMP leader bangs louder on his trash can lid, and the other other members also bang louder on their instruments while letting out war yells.)

Edward Elric : I can't take it anymore! I want to end this now!

(He pulls a gun out, cocks it, and kills himself, and other audience members follow suit. The guns' sounds are also set to a STOMP-like rhythm.)

Emma : Oh God! They're killing their selves...!

Leo : With Rhythm!?

Kairi, Winry, Aerith : [as we zoom by several audience members that kill themselves] Make it stop!

(Next, more audience members cut their arms with a scalpel, also setting it to a rhythm; as this happens, the STOMP cast does a big finale, where one member bangs his broom on a trash can while another wears it and the leader beats his sticks on many lids in a ninja-like fashion. At the end, the leader exhales in joy, but gets shocked when he sees the remaining dead audience members. To the end of it, the last one living is Patty herself waving to the Stomp crew "Goodbye")

Patty Thompson : See you on the otherside, c*cksuckers! (shoots and kills herself)

Balan : Well, I guess the 100% completion reward would be a great success. Also, the last one committed suicide. Seems like that they like it, ehh? (bumps into Nights) Get it?

Lance : ...Eh, I can't be a villain no more. Soup 2 nuts?

Balan : Soup 2 nuts. (both him and Lance shoots and kills their selves)

Leo : Well, this sucks.

Emma : We should be get going. (the two sneakily walk away, and then runs off)

Stomp Leader : Why did we even think our sevles as 100% completion award? Stupid maestro and his stupid game.

[iris out]

[constellationclarke]

ok but like. What if I started watching Supernatural again. Like what if that was an actual thing I did in the year of our lord 2021

[robobarbie]

Happy one year to BP. Have some thoughts I'm typing on my phone while I avoid my IRL job responsibilities.

I'm not interested in getting too repetitive, so let me quickly get a couple things out of the way that I've already said in a million other places:

1. The reception to BP has been quite the unexpected ride, and shockingly is still ongoing

2. I'm thrilled to see that BP helped people find their creativity in the same was that similar other media helped me back then

Yes, technically the anniversary of BP was on 06/30, but I was too busy downloading a bucket of otojam titles. It was a really impressive turn out this year -- nice job to everyone who participated, old or new devs alike. For the new devs, I hope you learned a lot from your experience and I know you'll only improve further. I certainly know BP taught me a lot.

Let's get into some of that, actually.

-------

LESSONS I LEARNED FROM DEVELOPING BP AND THE YEAR AFTER

1. Imperfection is sort of sick.

BP is by far NOT a perfect product. There's small bugs still lingering, a few typos, some odd characterizations, rushed plot beats, all of that. But by letting myself be at peace with that and ship it, I allowed myself the brain space to focus on other projects and not dwell eternally on hunting down issues and rewriting bogs of text. I still vividly remember the first few times I saw people streaming BP -- ohhhh how I hated BP back then. All I saw in the streams was every mistake I had let slip through. But as I kept watching more and more, I saw what people actually cared about -- the heart of the story and the sexiness of my BOYS!! So, I chilled out. It made me realize that it's okay to release something a bit imperfect, because I know my heart will still be heard.

2. Cringe is cool.

Don't be ashamed of what you are passionate about. Cringe culture is dead. If I had let cringe stop me over the past year, there's no way I would have released BP at all -- the premise of the game alone would have rocketed me to another dimension. I think most of the coolest games out there take something a chunk of people might call "cringe" and make it fucken rad as hell by injecting their whole ass self into the project and making it scream "this is me. this is me." Think like undertale, or pony island, or dream daddy, or monster prom. They're unique and engaging and I'm happy they exist.

3. Unfortunately, you do not live on Mars.

There's a lot of reasons this is unfortunate. Mars sunsets look really fucken eerie and cool, for example. And I'm 99.9% sure that if you dig down far enough under the surface, you'll probably find strange alien skeletons. But, more importantly, Mars has ~25 hours in a day -- and we only have 24. You have to sleep. You need to eat. If you have a day job, you need to make sure you are doing it to keep paying your bills. At one point, I got so lost in the sauce that I nearly checked myself into the ER from not eating/sleeping enough and having some spooky side effects. I had to force myself to stick to a regimen for eating/sleeping, and while it did slow down some parts of the xyx route development (and current Adonia development), I am in a way better spot than I would have been had I not made these deliberate choices. Manage your time, take care of your life, and don't lose sight of yourself.

4. You are not the reviews.

If this is especially your first time in the review rodeo where people are rating something you put your heart into, I salute you. I did not realize how hard it would be to see reviews when I started out. Like with the imperfections, I had strong depressive moments when someone left a less-than-favorable review. It was almost like, at first, that they were reviewing ME, because of how important this project was to me. But I learned to let it go and try to glean the small useful knowledge points from them and then turn to the happy reviews as chasers. People are free to like what they like and vice versa -- it doesn't mean your game is bad, or that you are incompetent, it's just not for them. Reviewers also, frankly, don't know what went on during development and why things ended up the way they did. You cannot humanly please everyone, and chasing that down is a recipe for disaster. Your game will reach the people it's meant to, and that's what matters.

4.5 ...This includes the positive reviews.

"But wait! I thought you said the positive reviews helped you?" They did. They still do. But it's like taking an ibuprofen after a headache, or getting high after a nasty day -- a temporary solution. If you live in the reviews and feedback, you'll find yourself trying to keep those exact comments coming and slip into a "do what the players want only" mindset. Don't do that. Keep yourself at the front -- this is your story. I've already accepted, for example, that a chunk of BP players will not like Adonia, and that's okay. It's another personal story, and I'm making it for me first. If I lose sight of that, I lose myself. Game dev is supposed to be fun, not a mimic of me trying to please my family.

5. Fame is only sometimes cool.

I've talked about this at length in private, but not really publicly. I mean, I've mentioned that the popularity of BP was overwhelming and unexpected, but not much about what it's like shifting from a fan in fan spaces to a known creator in fan spaces. I don't think I can make any genuine fan-to-fan connections in spaces where BP is known, for example -- admirers see you through rose-colored glasses, and when they crack, you crack with it. Because I was so involved in otome communities before all this, it sort of feels like a larger loss for me than it might for others. This will come across as humble bragging to some people ("oh noooo my game got so popular that I'm too well known and too many people respect meeeeee") but it really has been one of the hardest things for me to face over the last year. I miss the days where I was just a nobody online doing whacky shit for fun with only a few eyes on me, I genuinely do. But I've come to terms with what my online life is now, and for those of you about to go through something similar, godspeed and good luck. It'll be okay. I did eventually find ways to navigate in spaces where people didn't look at me like that, and I'm much happier now.

6. Diversity matters.

If I have one regret for BP, it's that I played everything too safe. The designs of the og 3 are very typical otoge -- for better or for worse. They were designed to be instantly likeable by most otoge players. Otoge has a large trend of having mostly light-skinned love interests, and BP is part of that bucket. I'm happy Xyx is in the game as a LI, but I could have done more. People want to see people who look like them in games, and I heard that from so many comments/reviews and took it to heart. Adonia is part of that process. Another thing I played too safe was the lack of explicitly LGBT content in the game -- sure, i have 2 he/theys and everyone is technically bisexual (or a lesbian), but it's never really played out or evidenced in game. Like, Quest never says, "my ex-boyfriend said..." or anything along those lines. This isn't to say every game has to be very gay, but it is to say that I actively worked around that to try to please all fronts. I was afraid of pushback from some hardcore otoge fans that I've seen go after other devs for daring to include those things more openly in their games -- take the DUFE review bombing, for example. But, like I said before, you can't please everyone and chasing that down to make a clean, completely inoffensive game is maddening and a waste of time. I'm doing my best to ignore those fears -- mad props to everyone else succeeding far better than me. You are an inspiration.

---------

That was a lot of rambling, but if you made it this far, thanks for reading some of the things I've learned. I learn something new with every day that passes, and I can't wait to see what lessons the development of Adonia will teach me. Godspeed to all of u as well on your creative journeys. You are stronger and more capable than you think.

[tartagliaxx]

# 0.04 - THE FOURTH WISH.

╰ ‘I wish I got married before I die.’ | Chapter 4 of ‘The Five Wishes You Fulfilled For Me Before I Died’ series

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THUNDER ROARED OUTSIDE and it greatly contrasted the peace locked within the four walls of the house you were kindly forced into living in. it's not an unappreciated blessing by any means, you thought to yourself as a soft smile decorates your tired features, you don't think you've ever experienced such fancy accommodations in your travels. you also don't think you'll ever refrain from appreciating the pleasure of idling around in such a comfortable space while doing what is arguably one of the most uncomfortable tasks in mankind.

"you know..." you sighed though amusement makes your eyes glimmer under the warm lighting of the kitchen, "i don't think you're supposed to beat up a dead octopus when trying to make a stew."

"don't you have any faith in your favorite childhood friend?" your alleged favorite childhood friend replies with a faux pout — a fact you greatly cringed at. it does not suit him one bit.

“take a guess."

"aha!" childe paid no heed to your snarky words, too busy grinning victoriously as he finally pried one of the tentacles away from the curled up seafood, "see? i know what i'm doing! just keep your eyes on me and i'll give you a great show — and a good meal."

"okay, chef but maybe use a knife next time. at this pace, we'll be eating dinner tomorrow"

laughing as he froze in his tracks, you decided that you finally had enough of his silent misery and hopped down from the counter. he wasn't a bad cook per se but he was one of those who tends to stick close to cooking only meals from their hometown or, on worst cases, simply dumping their catch on a pot over a fire. it was enough to fend starvation away when he was out camping but it certainly wasn't enough to satiate your sudden cravings for inazuman dishes.

"move aside and learn from the best," with a casual wink, you proceeded to continue his task with so much more ease.

“show off."

“oh please. i don't want to hear that coming from you, mister egotistical."

"wow," he drawls with a faint laugh, leaning against the sink to stare at the side of your face properly, "harsh words for someone who dropped everything, sailed to an unfamiliar nation and fought against scamming scammers just to get to you."

you scrunch your face in distaste. yeah... inazuman natives are good at taking opportunities when opportunities appear, "in my defense, i didn't ask you to."

“yeah, i know..." a brow raises at his sudden change in volume. even as a kid, childe was someone who held the energy of ten suns. to see him so... quiet, made you the faintest bit uncomfortable, "but i'd do it again and more if that's what it'll take to see you again."

the rhythmic sounds of wood meeting metal halts with your sudden pause. his words — his noble intentions — swirls around the kitchen before settling somewhere close to your heart. with a small smile, you continue chopping the leeks with precision. you knew how to do that but you didn't know how to respond to him.

"if i ask you a question, would you answer honestly?"

"shoot."

childe frowns, laying a calloused hand over yours to stop you from your task. confused by his sudden action, you turned to look at him only to falter as you spot a foreign gravity in his expression, "were you ever going to tell me?"

“well? were you?" pursing your lips, your lips part to offer a reply but he beats you to it, "or was i supposed to wake up to an invitation to your funeral in front of my door?"

"i—" you pause, brows furrowing as he ran a hand through his bright, ginger locks. he's trembling. you don't think you've seen him do that ever since he joined that nefarious organization.

he swallows with an incredulous laugh; his familiar face contorting to showcase his distress, "i would never have known if i wasn't looking out for you. if i— if i found out a day later, i would've been greeting your corpse instead."

“childe, i'm sorry—"

"'childe'?" he smiles bitterly, "i was always ajax to you. is that why you didn't tell me? because i was nothing but your enemy now?"

you narrow your eyes in warning, "don't even say that! you're... you'll always be my first friend but you... you were off doing whatever the tsaritsa wishes and i didn't know how to reach you. you would've been the first to know if you—"

you freeze, realizing that you might have crossed the line if you hadn’t stopped.

“no, don't do that. you're making me feel more horrible," childe— no, ajax says with a shake of his head, "tell me. tell me what i did wrong."

you looked up and you see a storm much more terrifying than the one that reigned outside. has fear always been like this? has it always been a desire to drown in the confused, hurt wails of dull but striking blues? has it always filled you with dread, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you reacquaint yourself with the familiar visage of someone you once knew except painted on his beautiful features was an anguish you could never dream of understanding? you don't know if it was fear of him, for him or for what was yet to come but you found yourself compelled to pour your most honest truths.

“you weren't there, ajax. you left and you never came back to me."

he chuckles miserably and if death was mercy, you hoped that mercy would befall you now. with the way he adjusts his collar, you realize that the air has gone dreadfully thick — that you hadn't been breathing until he told you of his desperate attempt to see you for one last time. it hurts and you found yourself stifling a sob behind your palm as your guilt-ridden eyes watched his aimless pacing. everything's empty right here and now. if it weren't, his footsteps wouldn't have left you feeling all hollow and sick.

"but i did, didn't i? in liyue—"

“you told me that you were childe and-and then signora called you tartaglia so who were you? who was the man who threatened to destroy an entire fucking harbor? i didn't want to believe that was ajax because my ajax wouldn't have done something like that..."

"you're—" childe bows his head, hands gripping the countertop until his knuckles were all white and tense, "all this time, you felt like this? b-but," you gasp as he abruptly looks back at you, lips trembling as he succumbed to a frantic daze, "but you know, right? i'd never hurt you. i'd never hurt you even if i take nine other names. i'd never hurt you ever."

tearing away your gaze, you looked at the abandoned ingredients mournfully, haphazardly wiping away your tears with one hand, "if the tsaritsa ordered you to kill me... would you?"

he pauses, jaw ticking as the cogs in his mind churned. before long, he was laughing bitterly, "good thing we'll never have to know, huh?"

“yeah..." you mirror his actions, wistfully watching as the rain grew stronger outside, "yeah, i suppose."

the sudden feeling of being out of place drew harsh circles on the pit of your stomach and the urge to jump out of this window just so you could be away from the suffocating air that tarnished your lungs a sickly black was so strong that you had to step away from it. even if you were to try, you don't think you'd even make it five steps away given your current state of mind. a loud thud jolts you out of your thoughts and you instinctively reach out only to pull back just as quick when you saw his sunken form.

“do you want me to leave?" he whispers but you hear him just fine.

“stay.”

childe frowns. if he was in your place, he'd probably be thrashing the place in fury. he couldn't answer. god, he feels a fresh wave of tears well up as he shoves his face into his palms, he couldn't answer. it should've been a simple question. how could he ever point his blade at the best part of him? his feelings be damned, his body be desecrated but his loyalty to you? to question it in ill will should've been a crime — a crime that should never have been his to commit but when you asked him that, full of doubt and skepticism, he doesn't even know anything anymore; not himself, not his mission, not the future, not you.

the you he knew would never have doubted him or rather, would never have been given a reason to doubt him. the ajax he, himself, knew would choose to run miles in knee-deep snow just to fetch you medicine even if his body crumbled eventually. that side of him died in the abyss and it was fine. all he needed was your smile and suddenly, ajax was grinning back at you with the youthful blush of a boy whose love was too big to fit in his body. he thought that was fine — thought that it was enough but it turns out that it was only his mind that does wonders, childe thinks to himself as he feels a pain beyond compare on the surface of his skin. ajax was long gone and even you thought so and in the typical cruel turn of fates, whatever softer side of him that was bound to be born from your gentle gaze was dying before he even got a chance to see it.

“why? why do you still ask me to stay when you believe i'm not the person you knew?"

you chuckle humorlessly, "because even after all you’ve done to us, i still care. you might not be the person i knew but you are still someone who looked after me. even if i don’t know which name to use now, i want to keep you by my side even if its for a shallow reason like ‘you have his face.’”

the man before you stills before nodding slowly. the itch to comfort you, to wipe away your tears overwhelms him but he eventually decides against it. that was ajax’s right and he was someone neither of you believed to exist any longer.

if he could turn back the time and spare the version of him that was naive and weak but sincere and kind, would you let him hold you? a sickening stubbornness leaves a dull ache on his chest and childe (because he knew for certain that he exists), finds his fingers curling around your wrist.

“i can be him," he whispers with misplaced determination as he tugs at you to sit beside him gently, "for one last day, i'll be him."

"you will or will you pretend to be him? those are two different things…"

he shrugs, face devoid of anything that could tell you of his thoughts, “can’t i just have the luxury of pretending to be someone you can actually stand?”

“what do you—”

“i want you to need me. i want you to rely on me and i don’t know how you remembered me back then but the ajax i know was selfish. he wanted you all for himself but yes, he was a good person. the person you’re seeing right now is a murderer but he does love you just as much as your ajax did.”

you don’t pull away even as his grip grows tighter and tighter, “this person wants to stay by your side. i don’t want to leave you alone so you know what? even if i have to pretend to be someone who doesn’t exist just so you’ll let me in, i’ll do it. i’ll do anything because the last thing i want is to lose you when you’re one of the few people who still loves me regardless.”

you probably should've questioned the way his voice grew softer but as you opened your eyes, you were greeted by his tear-stained cheeks and beautiful blue eyes. they were crinkled as his lips were twisted into a sad but sincere smile. fuck, you part your lips in surprise as you hear the familiar thunderous beat of your heart in your ear. in a trance, you glance at the window — just to make sure that it was raining and not snowing because he really looked like that kid you knew by heart. the friend who loved poking your cheeks. your first love who told you that he'll be the first to come to you if you needed help.

he was here and maybe you were wrong to say that he left when he has always been right in front of you — looking after you even when you tried to avoid him in some ‘i couldn’t find you’ pretense.

“you’re an idiot,” you returned his smile, “i think it rubbed on to me.”

“now you’re calling me names?” ajax laughs and yes, ajax… it’s the only name you’ll ever have to use to call him and you feel stupid for forgetting that.

“you’re always just ajax to me too. no matter how much you change,” you sigh as you thumbed away his tears. they never suit him, not ever since.

he doesn’t speak but he does pull you against him, letting you lay on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, fingers tracing an unknown pattern over your arm.

OUR FIRST DREAM — you blearily opened your eyes and in you post-sleep haze, you find yourself aimlessly patting the sheets beside you. you didn’t know if you hoped to find someone there more than you hoped you wouldn’t.

“i’m over here, babe,” you didn’t need to see his grin to know it was present and you realized that you hoped he was beside you instead. that way, your heavy pats could’ve doubled as slaps to his stupid face as well.

“i finished cooking dinner for you. thankfully, you did all the hard parts.”

“how long was i asleep?”

“hm… for a little less than an hour? who knows, i didn’t even notice that you fell asleep on me until i was trying to get you off.”

“that makes the two of us then.”

“never mind that. less talking, more eating. you’ll need the energy to keep up,” at his mischievous grin, you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“what are you planning?”

“many things.”

scrunching your face in confusion, you decided to see through his demand, albeit still wary for very valid reasons. picking up your spoon, you took the first bite, flinching when he suddenly leaned closer.

“so?”

“it’s good,” he beamed and a small smile that reflects your truest feelings falls on your lips, “aren’t you eating with me?”

“i will… later.”

“you’re acting so strangely. are you—” you freeze as your teeth met something hard. immediately spitting it out, ajax found himself on the receiving end of a harsh glare.

“you freaking—”

“geez, look at it first before you curse me.”

“what will that change when…” it was your words that died down as you picked up the lousily twisted wire in your hands, “is this…”

“the ring you proposed to me with when we were six? yeah…”

heat climbed up to your cheeks and you immediately scrambled away from ajax who was grinning widely at your embarrassment, “why do you still have this?!”

“how can i not? you gave it to me when you professed your ‘undying lo—’”

“okay! you can shut up now!”

in your frenzy, you don’t realize that you’ve pounced on him until you were sitting on his lap, one hand firmly sealing his lips from saying another word and one hand on his shoulder to keep your balance. if it weren’t for him sliding his hands on your back, you probably wouldn’t even realize how provocative your position was to the outsider’s eye.

“a-anyway! why are you bringing this up now? are you planning on making me shrivel out of shame? because trust me, it’ll take more than that to incapacitate me!”

“and you say i’m the idiot,” he shakes his head with a light laugh, “i’m asking you to marry me.”

“what?”

“i took the ring because i knew i wanted to marry you someday but…” ajax takes your hand, brushing a thumb over your knuckles before placing a sweet kiss on them. you feel his smile on your skin and you couldn’t stop yourself from returning the favor.

“this is so dumb. i can’t even fit this on my little finger.”

“well…” he suddenly pats his pockets, “good thing i have something for you.”

curiously eyeing him, you asked the question that has been running amok in your mind, “how long have you been planning this?”

ajax smiles melancholically as he toys with the rouge velvet box in his hands. placidly looking up at him, you realize that he’s been avoiding your gaze. you’re a little grateful. you didn’t know what you’ll be seeing in them but you were near certain that you wouldn’t be able to stomach it without being sick.

“ever since we were kids. i made the ring myself when i turned eighteen and i was just hoping that i’d stumble upon you again. thankfully i did but i guess i should’ve been more specific with my prayers.”

“don’t smile like that,” you huffed as you moved to get off his lap only to be stopped by his warm hand that gripped your hips tighter, “you’re making me feel horrible.”

“oh yeah? well think about how i feel when we’ve been talking for four minutes without an answer from you.”

your heart stuttered as you felt a fresh wave of heat rushing to your ears. no matter where you look at it, this situation was very embarrassing. you weren’t even dating and yet, here he was, proposing to you as if he was just asking you for a candy! he’s always been shameless but as your eyes narrow at him, you also notice the underlying nervousness in his smile.

“i can’t accept it,” you finally whisper after a great minute’s reluctance.

he would be lying if he said he didn’t consider you saying no but at the same time, there was an inner voice that told him that it was just a small possibility. you’ve always went with his crazy ideas even when you were young. sometimes it was out of a spontaneous adrenaline rush but sometimes it was out of your worry for his sake. either way, ajax knew that you’ll always have his back. if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have saved him one too many times while he was recklessly plundering enemies in that strange domain you both went to. so really, it was not just his pride that stubbornly looked upon you with a fierce but still friendly stare.

“why not?”

“because… i’m dying in what? two days? in two days this would mean nothing to me but you? you’d carry the title of being a widower for the rest of your life—”

“so what? that’s certainly not the worst thing i’ve ever heard,” you glare at him and he immediately raised his hands in defeat, “don’t you love me?”

you grimace, “it’s not that…”

“then that settles it! from now on, i’m your lovely dear husband!”

“has no one ever told you that love isn’t enough? that it won’t feed hungry stomachs or place a roof over our heads?”

“yeah but i like to think that i’m more than capable of providing for your needs.”

he certainly was, you frown deeply as you remember the very prominent gap between your… financial capabilities. ajax was, without a doubt, a part of the higher society and if you were any more greedy, you would’ve stuck on him like a leech and sucked his wallet dry.

“i’m really not convinced—”

“fine,” he drawls, shoulders slouching in defeat, “just for one day and it’ll be off the records too. there. what can you possibly say now? don’t you want to experience my tender care?”

you eye him warily, “just one day?”

and like a golden retriever, he leans into you excitedly with an equally jubilant nod. you don’t know why he’s suddenly all over you when— you pause. in hindsight, ajax has always hovered around you, immediately involving himself in a spat if someone does so much as stare at you for longer than three seconds.

“you’re like a child,” you huff before prying the box out of his hands. immediately, he shrinks back to himself. you wonder if he finally realized how intimate this moment was… or, you chuckle amusedly, maybe he was just feeling nervous. ajax was a confident character but he always fails to carry that same air when he was around you. was it because he knew that you already knew all his embarrassing sides?

removing straying thoughts, you slowly opened the lid to reveal a blue tinted ring with pieces of gold leaf stuck in the settled resin. it reminded you of him — of his eyes and his hair under the bright glow of the setting sun. as you carefully fit it on your finger, you suddenly realized that you didn’t mind this at all. if anything, it reminded you of a few innocent words uttered to you once and it filled you with an immense feeling of comfort and on a bitter note, nostalgia.

“one day i’ll be your husband and we’ll crush the thrones of the gods together that even death would think twice before baring its teeth!”

A HOUSE OF CARDS MADE OF LOVE — marriage was a topic that was hard to speak of. it wasn’t something you experienced beforehand nor was it a topic that most people spoke fondly off. a few friends you’ve met in thoma’s housekeeping class all spoke of their regrets. you barely learned anything from the teacher but you did learn of their grave warnings. supposedly, everything goes downhill after the honeymoon stage ends but you supposed that was nothing you need to worry about. with just one day in your bizarre relationship, you think that you both would be too busy looking at the clock to worry about fighting.

“so uh… what do married couples do?”

ajax hums in thought, “partake in the other’s interests?”

“if this is an invitation to spar, forget it.”

he sighs exaggeratedly but for some reason, you believed that sparring was far from something that crossed his mind. a bit befuddling considering how a big chunk of his personality was founded on his energetic aggression but you supposed that it would be more surprising to find out that he was nothing more than that.

“well, what now?” you watch as he plops back down to the couch, face first as he lets out a groan.

“you tell me. you’re the one who proposed.”

“oh shit. we’re not married!”

“of course we’re not—”

“no like,” he abruptly stands up to face you with a mischievous smile. it’s something that never could be good, “we didn’t say our vows or anything like that!”

“no. absolutely not,” you tried your best to sound stern but as ajax hands moved efficiently to your ticklish spots you found that you were significantly harder to take seriously when laughing uncontrollably.

“what’s bad about letting your husband hear about your endless devotion?”

“oh my god! stop!”

in the end, you didn’t say your vows and neither did he but the way he looked at you as you laughed your head off had said a lot about himself and his feelings.

“jokes aside, how about we go fishing? you loved tagging along as a kid…”

you frown, immediately reminded of the ache in your limbs. you remembered. ajax’s father was a good man who’d often relent to your incessant whining. even back then, he’d allow you to come with them because he was sure that you and your friend wound wind up together. maybe he was right. maybe if ajax was a little less adventurous and if you were a little bit healthier… maybe you would’ve actually found yourself side by side with oaths spilling out of you in front of the goddess of love. to be frank, that was your dream and a voice inside your head wondered if it ever stopped being one.

“too tired…”

you had mumbled with what was the most heartbreaking expression on your face that it was hard for ajax to not guess what you were thinking. he swallows, hurriedly switching the subject because if there was one thing he was sure of, it’s that sadness hurts twice as much when laid upon your face that he has only known to show happiness and hope.

“okay then… let’s try something new together! there’s… uh yarn there?”

“yarn? you want to knit?” you couldn’t help but chuckle as you imagined his big, scarred hand knitting tiny little mittens and hats. you wonder if he still pokes his tongue out when he’s focused on some menial task. maybe not. a lot has happened in your time apart and it wasn’t exactly harbinger behavior to show such softness.

“i guess? how hard could it be?”

it wasn’t that hard when you get the hang of it but ajax believed otherwise. he has been cursing the damned needles for the nth time now and he doesn’t seem to be making progress from where you helped him begin. meanwhile, you were about halfway through the scarf your were working on. it’s been about three hours of nonstop knitting and you wonder if it’s really alright to do something so insignificant at this time of the week. then again, it wasn’t as if you had any room to make a choice.

“you okay?”

you hum before asking about what made him ask.

“well… you started getting slower with that thing you’re doing. are you feeling sleepy?”

“a little… should we go to bed?”

“you go ahead. i’ll just finish this thing.”

a few moments later and you still haven’t moved, making your… husband (it was still strange to call him that) look up in curiosity. he didn’t inquire but you felt like giving an explanation — an explanation that you didn’t have at this moment in time.

noticing your troubled gaze, ajax smiles before opening the blanket wordlessly. patting the spot beside him, you hesitated. was it alright to be this close to him? do all married couples feel awkward and lanky with themselves first? or do all of these happen because you were technically not married?

a flick to your forehead was all it took before you were glaring at ajax who took no offense and simply patted the spot beside him again. seeing no reason to state your thoughts, you moved to obey his request, crawling slowly to his side before cuddling close.

just like old times, you think as your eyes fluttered shut.

NO RAINBOW AFTER THE RAIN — you cracked your eyes open to see that the night has passed. surprisingly, you had a good rest, a rarity since you received the dreadful news. who could blame you, really, if the idea of not waking up was more real of a fear for you compared to the average joe? the next thing you realize was the missing presence of your companion. had he been called for an emergency? it wasn’t far from a surprise but it was a disappointment. shaking your head, you slowly rose from the couch which caused the blanket over your form to slip and fall.

“how kind of him,” you thought as you padded to the kitchen.

it seemed like he also cleaned the dishes. as far as you remember, the two of you got caught up in your sudden whirlwind marriage that you both stacked the dishes in the sink and left it for tomorrow. to think that he’d go against you and wash it when you had insisted that you’ll do it… well, that was definitely an ajax thing to do.

the more you thought about his actions, the more you realized that ajax was actually a good husband or at least, he appears he will be. it’s not something you doubted before but it was definitely not something you thought about in your recent years. sure, you just assumed that he’ll make the most wonderful spouse as a kid but your measure of greatness was solely focused on how many rounds of rock, paper, scissors he was willing to lose for you (in which case, yes. he was the best though you’re not sure if it’s on purpose or not.)

the creaking of the front door snapped you out of your reverie and cautiously, you peeked into the corridor only to reveal yourself, sluggish and still half-asleep but responsive.

“where did you go?”

“uh, i bought things to cook with. thought i’d make breakfast before you woke up but i guess you beat me to it.”

you instinctively moved behind his back, helping him off his coat as he brushed off the water in his hair, “it hasn’t stopped raining since yesterday.”

“shame… i was thinking of going outside to window shop.”

“yeah, maybe not. you might catch a cold,” he says lightheartedly as he pinches your nose briefly. without another word, he enters the kitchen presumably to put what he bought away.

“what’s for breakfast?”

you hear the rustling stop before he yells from inside the kitchen, “still thinking about it!”

chuckling to yourself, you considered going inside to help him but figured that you’d busy yourself with something else while he goes at it. eventually, he’ll have to leave inazuma but he couldn’t go out with rain-soaked clothes. a small displeased noise slips out of you. laundry was not a task you particularly enjoyed amongst all house chores but it’d have to take priority. if you finished early, you might even manage to sweep the floor before breakfast…determined to get work done despite your weaker constitution, you began gathering his clothes.

a few minutes pass and in the kitchen, ajax stood unmoving as he eyed the eggs in the counter. how would you like them made? he tried scouring his memories for anything that might provide him an answer only to come back with nothing. defeatedly, he placed a hand by his waist as he calls out to you.

“surprise me!” you said but how was he supposed to surprise you with something so simple such as eggs? ajax shakes his head fondly before getting to work. he ought to try at least.

laundry went easier than expected and you figured that it might be because the heavy ones needn’t be washed. however, it still has left you panting and you didn’t think you had it in you to sweep the floor. that’s up to ajax then but in exchange, you decided to water the plants. there were quite a few indoors whilst you didn’t think you’d have to worry about the ones outside. as much as you wanted to move them, they were technically street decorations that are cemented into the sidewalk.

“hey,” ajax approaches you before taking away the sprinkler from your hands, “i’ll finish up so go get some breakfast. i racked my head last night and i finally have some ideas.”

knowing it was no use to argue, you did as ordered only to part your lips at the sight. it wasn’t the food that caught you off-guard, if anything it was quite a simple breakfast spread that you’d find anywhere in the land. rather, it was the heart-shaped eggs that brought your surprise. a powerful man resorting to such cutesy antics? ajax could be cute sometimes, you think as you sat down in front of the plate to eat and a minute later, he joins you.

“so… what are these plans you’re so fond of?”

ajax pauses mid-bite before grinning mysteriously, “something… to test your flexibility?”

you freeze and for an unfounded reason too, you realize as ajax excitedly opened one of the paper bags that were supposedly a gift to his sister, tonia.

“are you planning to host a tea party?”

“ah… roleplaying?” he dares hum in thought as if innocently considering the idea, “that’s not a bad idea… i can be the mad hatter while you can be the march hare. sounds good right, bunny?”

you roll your eyes despite the nervous idle of your fingers betraying your nonchalance, “if you’re going to call me names, at least be accurate. it’s leveret.”

“so brainy… you’d like this, then.”

“a… puzzle? you want to do a puzzle with me?”

“yeah,” he pauses before meeting your gaze, “or is that not a good idea?”

“i mean… it’s fine but you always used to complain about doing puzzles with me.”

“i always refused but i figured that we’ll do it together this time.”

you blinked before your lips curved up. you liked puzzles well enough but you think you liked having fun with him more instead of just having fun. ajax must have misunderstood your expression because he was swiftly suggesting something else that was even more obscure.

“how about painting?”

“i’m not stripping.”

an appalled gasp escapes his lips but you knew it was fake. he likes being obnoxiously dramatic when he feels ‘wronged,’ “am i just some pervert in your eyes?”

“then stop making the weird comments i know you’ll make!”

“i’m offended. i can’t believe you did this to me when i stayed up all night to make you something.”

the pout on his lips was quite adorable (not like you’d ever admit that) but you managed to compose yourself from such… strange thoughts before pressing about the sudden gift.

“what did you make me?”

ajax laughs shyly before tossing something at your face. it was a knitted scarf, specifically, it was the scarf you were knitting before you fell asleep except it was finished with a blue yarn instead of the cream you used. however, the color difference wasn’t necessary to see which part was yours and which part was his.

tenderly running your finger over the loose knots, you laughed amusedly as a foreign but welcomed warmth settles on your chest, “you stole my work?”

“well— i mean… i was supposed to make you something else but i realized i’m horrible at knitting… well, for now at least, so…” he trails off before snapping to his senses, “that’s not the point! wear it and don’t get cold when you’re going out.”

you don’t think you could go out anymore, you sadly thought to yourself as you leaned into him.

“what are you doing?” ajax whispers as you loosely wrapped the scarf around him instead.

“keep it. keep practicing and give me something that’s made better.”

the soft twinkle in your eyes told him that you weren’t belittling his efforts and you weren’t. the first thing that crossed your mind when you saw the scarf was ‘oh, it’s me and ajax!’ and it was strange because it did feel like a fragment of you and him together. it’ll remind you of this beautiful moment for sure but you don’t think it’ll do you any favors. in a matter of time, all you could do is hold your memories with him close to your heart but he could still hold onto material things like this.

“why did you come all the way here? i want an honest answer this time,” you ask as you took a mug of warm water in your hands.

“i don’t want you to be sad alone,” he chuckles sadly, “or… maybe it’s me who doesn’t want to be sad alone.”

ajax crawls to your side of the couch to lay his head on your lap. instinctively, you start playing with his locks and from the reflection of the mirror, you could see the way his eyes slowly close as the soft pitter patter of the rain transformed to be his lullaby.

“you know i…” you smile despondently, “i think death is not as sad as we presume it to be. i hope you’ll come to realize that too before you let me go.”

he only nuzzles into you more as death’s call finally grows appealing at the sharp pain that bursts through your chest.

╰ taglist

@dourpeep @justsidecharacterthings @nightfloweruponahill @chichikoi @genshiningg @bloopsimpsforxiao @midnightraindropme @infinite-cats @horangheyy @zephestia @diaflower @justlynna @bookuya @milasn-uh-ok @scaraslover

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