#me every time: this won't be long i don't have much to say

[reignpage]

ᥫ᭡ Pegging Gojo as a reward for being so good

More than eager, he was ecstatic when you broached the topic with him, even insisted he didn’t need any preparations because he’s ‘always ready.’ Whatever that means. The strap-on is bright blue with rhinestones on the harness; his amazing princess deserves to feel pretty, he said. 

On all fours, completely bare except for his blindfold, he impatiently awaits to be stretched out. “Come on, baby. I’m ready. Don't be scared. You won't hurt me. I can take it. My ass will eat it up like a buffet.”

“That’s what I’m scared of most, idiot.”

When he laughs, his puckered hole quivers and the sight entrances you out of your fears. The fake cockhead kisses the hole, circling and pushing in slightly just to test the waters. Still a little cold, your boyfriend jolts at the odd sensation of the strawberry-flavoured lube aiding the mouth-watering rubbing of the fake cock against every sensitive nerve ending in his most vulnerable area. 

Satoru lets out a breathy moan. Then, inch by inch, he’s taking it all in like a pro — he’s even got a perfect arch you can’t help but run your nails down, teasing him. 

“Woah,” he says, feeling insanely full when you bottom out with no problems. “This is what you feel every time? I just gained a n-new —hngh, ooh that’s in deep, baby—newfound respect for you.”

Admittedly, you’re enjoying this more than you thought you would. There’s something about bringing the strongest sorcerer to his knees, watching his adorable, pink hole flutter around a cock, albeit a fake one, and seeing a blush erupt all over his pristine, pale skin. He’s moaning like crazy, pushing back ever so slightly like he can’t help it. 

“Feel good, Toru?”

He groans and squeezes down. Hard. “D-don’t. Ha, don’t talk like that.”

“Like what, baby?”

“Like that. It’s got my dick leaking l-like crazy. Ah, I don’t think I’ll —oh, damnnn— l-last very long. Not when you’re fucking me so good, baby. K-knew you’d be a natural at -ngh!- this. I love you so so soooo much. You're a champ.”

And he’s right: he doesn’t last very long at all. Satoru shoots out ropes and ropes of pearlescent cum all over his stomach and the satin sheets, body shaking from the heavenly sparks of delectable lightning emanating from deep inside of him, and you swear he even whimpers in the midst of his fierce orgasm. 

Giggling, you wrap your hand around his super sensitive cock, loving the way it pulses in your grip. Like a reflex, he thrusts forward, keen to milk himself for all he's worth. He can't get enough of the feel of you, and darn it if he doesn't wish he could feel your real cock inside of him instead of a silicon one. "Oh, fuuuuck, that was a good one."

Slumped on the bed in front of you, you let him reorient himself — he gets mean when he doesn't get a break in between orgasms. You're mulling the last ten minutes, thinking that the blue dildo looked great against his pale skin, that it did somehow come naturally to you, and that it was oddly enjoyable. There was a notch in the strap that was rubbing your clit just right, and if he had lasted longer, despite the aching in your hips from the unusual movements, you totally would have orgasmed. 

"Would it be too," he breathes out, sentence fragmented by a sudden shudder, "t-too much to call you mommy? 'Cause it kinda feels right."

"Shut up, you dork."

It takes only mere seconds for him to ask for another round once the wave of pleasure subsides, the dildo still lodged deep, held tight by his gummy walls. And you're not hesistant either to oblige. After all, he's worked so hard; he deserves this. 

“H-hey, do me against a mirror. I wanna see how pretty you look.”

You roll your eyes. “You mean, you want to see yourself.”

A grin creeps its way onto his face, which you feel more than you see. “I can multitask — that’s what the Six Eyes are for, baby.”

[elysixns]

Chrysos Heirs w/ clumsy reader !

Content: GN!Reader, fluff, mentions of light injuries + sprains, yandere behavior on Anaxa's part (?)

🌹 Note: Shout out to the mfs that get cuts and bruises just by standing still. Me too.

INTRO

The Sky Titan must absolutely despise you for you to trip over air as often as you do.. How you haven't gotten a broken bone is baffling, and yet here you are. For all of your clumsiness, you do manage to get out of almost any situation with only minor scrapes and bruises (most of the time). You're not allowed outside of Okhema for any reason, though, not even to help bring in refugees. The last time you were allowed outside the city, you sprained your ankle so badly that you were bedridden for about a month.. But do not fret!!! There are still plenty of ways to entertain (injure) yourself in the holy city, much to your partner's distress.

– Dear, if you keep falling over your own feet every 20 minutes, she's going to think you like when she catches you in her golden thread

Aglaea

– ^ (You do. She knows you do, so you can't deny it when she teases you for it, yes?)

– If you somehow sprain any of your limbs, she WILL pamper you for the entire time you're injured. This is probably one of the ONLY times she’ll baby you when you're hurt, so try to take advantage of it as much as you can

– One of the few who isn't overly concerned with your penchant for getting injured simply by existing

– Unless you are quite literally impaled by a spear, Aglaea assumes that you can handle yourself and she won't fuss over you too much

– She does get a bit antsy if you end up getting an open wound, though

– You're much too precious to bleed, Dear. What happened? Does she need to kill someone to avenge you?

– ^ She says she's only joking if you get worried/upset. (She is not joking)

– Aglaea may tease you often about your clumsiness, but that's only because she thinks it's endearing

Phainon

– “Who did this? Are you okay? What happened? Who do I need to fight?–”

– He'd try to fight the air if you asked him to. Phai will do anything to defend your honor!! Anything.

– He worries about how often you fall over and drop things– Anytime you're carrying a heavy object, he about has a heart attack before quickly taking it away from you

– “Your hero’s got it covered. Just tell me where I need to put this!”

– Whenever you get a sprain, he'll insist on carrying you everywhere that you want to go for as long as you're healing up

– Doesn't matter if you're bigger than him or not. Phai can lift you with ease and is eager to show off how dependable he can be!!!

– He genuinely spoils you so much when you're hurt. It is as sweet as it is silly

– Please remind him that it's just a sprain or else he'll keep treating you like you're dying 😭

– After you're healed up, he usually spends at least the next few days kissing any and all scars/bruises left behind from your injuries

– It's almost like he's apologizing for not being there to prevent them in the first place 🩵

– ^ (In a way, he is. Even if he has nothing to apologize for, Phai will always feel guilty for not protecting you from yourself)

Castorice

– Ohh you cause her so much stress, she thinks she might have a heart attack one of these days

– Cas genuinely doesn't know what to do!!! She can't just tell you to sit still and do nothing, she's tried that!

– ^ (Somehow, you ended up falling off of your chaise lounge and spraining your elbow..)

– Her only other solution is to spend as much time with you as possible, making sure you don't fall down a flight of stairs or get stomped on by a Dromas D:

– You've got an overprotective angel of death hovering around you nearly 24/7.. It's almost comical, but also a bit unsettling!

– If there's one thing she hates the most, though, it's that she can't patch you up on her own

– Seeing you injured tugs at her heartstrings so much, but all she can do is put a first aid kit in front of you or go find someone else to help you

– You also hate not being able to touch her, but you always reassure Cas that her just being beside you is more than enough

– It may take her a while until she's able to believe you (if ever she does), but she likes hearing it nonetheless because she knows you're being sincere when you say it <3

Mydeimos

– (Affectionately) calls you an idiot whenever you fall or drop things in front of him

– He doesn't usually help you when you stumble because he knows you'll be fine on your own, and he doesn't want to treat you like a child

– That being said… If you've fallen one too many times that day, Mydei will simply pick you up bridal style (all the while grumbling complaints) so that he can carry you around wherever you need/want to go

– He says it's because you're slowing him down, but in reality, it's because he caught a glimpse of the scars and bruises on your legs from previous accidents

– Mydei will never admit this to anyone, especially not to you, but seeing bruises on your skin hurts him more than any physical blow ever could

– He is once again reminded of how fragile the average person is. he is reminded of how fragile you are in particular

– ^ (Just another reason to break this damned curse. What's the point of being indestructible if you're not allowed to share in this “blessing” with him?)

– Mydei can't keep you safe from everything, least of all from your own gracelessness, but he can be there to patch you up and (reluctantly) wait on you hand and foot until you feel better

Anaxagoras

– Oh, you must be studied; he just can't believe you're naturally this clumsy. Are you sure you haven't been cursed?

– Anaxa finds your inelegance as adorable as he does irritating; it's quite a confusing mix of emotions for him

– You are very precious, truly! But if you fall on the way down the steps of your own home one more time, Anaxa will have to resort to drastic measures to keep you from harm

– ^ (“Drastic measures” being forbidding you from using any stairs by yourself, and keeping you by his side for the rest of your life)

– Overkill? Not at all. Maybe. But he loves you, so he'll never admit that he's being overprotective

– You trust him, don't you? So you'll let him do what's best for you without any complaints, right?

– You're simply too much of an airhead to keep yourself safe and uninjured… Those bruises and scars on your legs are proof of that, wouldn't you agree?

– Anaxa knows what's best, of course he does. If you can't trust in yourself, then just trust in him

– He won't outright force you to go along with what he wants, but he will try to “subtly” encourage you to stay indoors. Or even better, move in with him!! Just so that he can take care of you more efficiently, of course :)

Cipher

– You are very cute. Extremely cute, really.. But if she keeps having to run to your rescue (for free!), she will get a perpetual migraine

– It also ruins her image of being independent and selfish when she’s clearly always close enough to hear you stumble or drop something

– Cipher can not be tied down! She is untamed!!! She waits for NO ONE! … Unless it's you, and you're injured. Then she’ll wait for a minute or two

– She does steal things from you as well, but she always says she's only taking them away because they pose a danger to you

– “Oh? Your brush? The handle was real high-quality wood, uh-huh… It was way too heavy for the likes of you, though, so I decided to take it off your hands and sell it! Ah, but don't worry; I'll find an even better one for you, okay?”

– Cipher worries a lot about leaving you alone for too long without supervision (you didn't hear that from me, though)

– You're so unsteady on your feet that she doubts you could survive a day without her

– She may or may not pay Aglaea to check in on you from time to time

– Such a shame you'll never have proof of this :3 can't tease her about it if it's not definitively true!

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [5]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

        The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

        The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

        "We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't. 

        "To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

        "You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

        The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

        You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time. 

        But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

        "You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

        The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

        "Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

        Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

        Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

        "No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

        "You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood. 

        "You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

         "Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh." 

        Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

        You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

        "I don't care, man." Long Mask says. 

        Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

        "You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

        Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

        "You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

        "Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

        You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

        It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

        You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

        "Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust. 

        Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

        His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

        The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips. 

        Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten. 

        You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

        ***

        "You-!"

        Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it. 

         He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels. 

        It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around. 

        The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

        Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it. 

        "There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones. 

        Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go. 

        "That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

        "You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

        If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices. 

        ***

        You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

        You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

       Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

       The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit. 

        You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb. 

        ***

        He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's. 

        It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

        "Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

        He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough. 

        You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work. 

        He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view. 

        ***

        Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

        Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing. 

        Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead. 

        He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile. 

        The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun. 

        As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them. 

        He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried. 

        Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space? 

        ***

        The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

        The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

        You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you. 

        You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable. 

        "Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing. 

        Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again. 

        Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."        

         He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

        As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing. 

        Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

        The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work. 

        "What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

        "I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates. 

        "How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting. 

        He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire. 

        He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

        "What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

        He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile. 

       "Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?" 

      You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew. 

        You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

        You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

       The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's. 

        You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me." 

        It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate. 

        You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

        The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

        "We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

        Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

        He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin. 

        "I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off? 

        "You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

        Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver. 

        "Do you have a way out?" You demand.

        "Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore." 

        You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

        You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea. 

       Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp. 

        Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

        You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

        You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable. 

        The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.        

        Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles. 

        Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath. 

        Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

        You get no peace or relief. 

        Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows. 

        The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

        You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

        "I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says. 

        "Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

        "A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

        "What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice. 

        Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

        You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

        Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

        "I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

        Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

        Crisis averted.

        Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

        When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

        You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off." 

        "D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

        This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

        He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed. 

        "Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

        You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe. 

        "Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress. 

        "You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself. 

        "You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.        

        "No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

        Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'." 

        He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

        "He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."        

        Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

        Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

        "Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

        "I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

        One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving. 

        You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.

[whitechocolate355]

full court press

part - 1

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

warnings - language

synopsis: this is a throwback to their aau days, where paige and azzi's friendship begins with an intense interaction... however, both girls seem to have different expectations on how their relationship will grow... so what will it be? friends? lovers? or rivals?

(repost since my other acc has been shadowbanned 😖)

hey guys ... this is my first post on tumblr and i'm so excited to share this pazzi aau storyline!! i don't know exactly what direction this fanfic might go so i'd love all feedback and suggestions on what to write next! honestly not my best work but i'm planning for some competitiveness/rivalry romance in the following chapters - what do y'all think? hope u guys have fun reading xx (and hope u guys enjoy the #ihatemybf moments as much as i do 🤭)

p.s. i'm nearing the end of my holidays so i might not be posting as much but i'll try my very best💋

chapter 1: ten minutes to turbulence

The breeze met Azzi with a soft embrace as she stepped off her plane, sweeping her brunette hair right into Buecker's face, who seemed to be standing a little too close to her for her to be a stranger…

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

Paige -

“Her hair smells so good” Paige thought, taking in Azzi's scent just inches behind her. Her curls captured the scent of lavender with a hint of vanilla that made Paige weak every time she neared her.

"WHATTT?" Azzi shouted over the noise, unable to hear the blonde's mumbling over the plane's engine

Fuck. she did not just say that out loud.

Thanking the lord that Azzi hadn't heard her, she composed herself, leaning in so her mouth brushed the tip of Azzi's ear. "I said,” she smirked. “I didn't ask for a mouthful of your hair, princess"

Azzi jolted, feeling weirdly electrified by her touch, which was strange since she had only met the girl 5 hours ago.

"Are you really blaming me when you're the one who chose to stand so close to me? Obsessed much?" she lashed back, rolling her eyes.

Caught off guard, Paige didn't realise Azzi had such an attitude, pinning her as the shy, pushover, girl-next-door (not that it wasn't Paige's type) and it certainly didn't help that the flight had left Paige in a trance, making her question whether God had put the brunette next to her as her soulmate, or a test to her self-control.

During the plane ride, Azzi's adidas shorts had ridden up her legs, putting her tanned skin on display. And her arms— the same toned arms that lingered on Paige's shoulder for too long— kept verging near Paige's, sending a thrill down her spine each time their skin touched. She had to fight the urge to look next to her, because she knew she'd never be able to look away.

So when the flight attendant came around with snacks (Paige's favourite: Lays chips with ketchup packets), she groaned and pulled her hood back towards the window, knowing she would have no control over how her body reacted if she looked remotely in Azzi's direction.

Yet, why was she so... turned on by Azzi's comeback? Intrigue began to flicker as she smirked at the sight of the cute, brown-eyed girl. Maybe basketball won't be the only activity amusing her for the next few weeks...

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

Azzi -

Shuffling through the aisle of the plane, Azzi groaned as the single file line seemed to move at a rate of an inch per hour. She had already been exhausted from the load of homework assigned to her over the summer, despite being the youngest in her class by a year.

As she made her way into her row, she was too tired to look over to where she was sitting, not realising she had fully sat on a girl's lap instead of her seat until she heard an awkward "um... excuse me"

Azzi's eyes widened, immediately springing off the girl's lap. "Oh god I'm so sorry" She apologised, redness only intensifying as a passenger pushed past her, causing her arm to reach over the blonde's shoulder to stabilise herself. Shit.

An instinctive hand grasps onto Azzi's side, steadying her at her waist.

Azzi looks down in surprise, almost yelping at the touch of the blonde's hand.

Of course this is happening to me. Azzi thought, cursing the world for her already bad start to her trip.

"You alright there?" The blonde asks, reluctant to remove her hand from Azzi's waist.

Azzi nods in silence, unable to muster words with the girl's hand still resting on her waist, slowly inching towards her hips as if it belonged there.

Breaking the silence, the girl replies, "Listen, I'll just move over. It seems like this window seat isn't doing you any favours right now" Whilst shuffling over one.

Azzi inhaled sharply at the absence of the blonde's hand, secretly wishing it had lingered a little longer.

"Thanks" she sighed. But she knew this wouldn't be the only string of bad luck, considering the past week...

.

.

.

Paige -

Paige had just been mindlessly staring at her phone when the chaos started.

After recovering from the initial shock of a girl (who was exactly her type) falling helplessly like an angel into Paige's lap, some dude in the aisle— with his oversized bag swinging like a wrecking ball —shoved past her. The force knocked her sideways, and before Paige could even register what was happening, the girl's arm shot out, grasping onto Paige for balance.

The brunette's hand landed on Paige’s shoulder. Fingers splayed. The touch was a quick, instinctual.

But Holy hell, did it do something to Paige, as if the involuntary lap dance wasn't enough of a turn on.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment — not really. but Paige’s heart did a very dramatic thing anyway, stuttering like it had missed a beat. Her pulse hiccupped in her throat, and for a second, she froze. Azzi’s fingers were warm, firm — they wrapped for a split second around her shoulder before she immediately pulled away, looking flustered.

“Shit, i’m sorry!” Azzi’s voice was quiet but hurried.

Get yourself together, Bueckers.

The contact was brief, less than a second, but it left behind a static hum.

Getting flustered over a hand on her shoulder? now that was a first— which happened to be quite rare these days, considering Paige's extensive dating pool.

The girl pulled back quickly, her eyes wide with the sudden embarrassment. But all Paige could focus on was the electric buzz where the girl's hand had been.

“Sorry,” she said, half-wincing. “Didn’t mean—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Paige said too fast. her voice jumped an octave. “Totally cool. Normal. People grab shoulders on planes all the time.”

She tried to sound unaffected, but her voice cracked at the end, betraying her. She could feel her pulse thudding in her neck, and her brain was still half a second behind.

She reached for her water in a desperate bid to look normal.

In the same motion, Paige leant over, trying to act casual and avoid meeting azzi’s gaze for too long.

Bad move.

The plastic cup wobbled before Paige even processed what was happening. Fingers fumbling, she hit the rim instead of the cup, and time slowed in that cruel, mocking way it does when you're about to embarrass yourself.

“Oh sh—” paige’s hands shot forward,

The cup tipped, arced through the air like a doomed free throw, and the entire contents of her water splashing across her lap.

Paige hissed under her breath. “Fucking hell”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Paige said, dripping. “Incredible reflexes. You saw that save, right?”

Azzi’s mouth twitched, trying to suppress a quiet giggle. “If you were going for a waterfall, you nailed it.”

Paige laughed— mostly to cover up the fact that her cheeks were burning. “I swear, i’m not usually this much of a disaster.”

Azzi gave her a half-smile, her voice softened. “Blame it on the plane turbulence?”

"More like Paige turbulence" she sighed, muttering under her breath.

Azzi offered her a napkin from her stash, her eyes softer than they’d been before. “You can have mine. I don’t spill things.”

And damn it, Paige smiled. Not the cocky, easy kind either— the real one, the kind that tugged at her lips like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you around then.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

But her eyes remained on Paige. lingering.

.

.

.

Azzi -

As she finally settled into her new seat, her phone buzzed. Then again. Then—BUZZZZ!

"You sure you don't want to get that?" the blonde asked, and the hotness rushed over Azzi's cheek all over again.

"Sorry" she muttered for the millionth time, reaching for her phone to check what could've possibly made her phone this mad.

* Matt sent 4 texts*

Matt: "hey baby, i know you're mad about prom but i swear the girl threw herself onto me"

Azzi: "oh so is that why her selfies ended up on your snap story that night?"

Matt: "i don't even know how she took my phone in the first place i swear"

Azzi rolled her eyes. She was clearly not in the mood to do this right now.

Matt: "baby? i know your flight doesn't leave until 11"

Matt: "please, i have something to tell you"

Matt: "i've been thinking, and i think—

i might be in love with you"

Matt: "just think things over, will you?"

Matt: "hope this will cheer you up ;)"

*Matt🔥 sent you a snap*

Surprisingly, finding out her boyfriend had cheated on her with 2 girls at her first prom was not the worst thing on her mind. Actually, part of her was kind of relieved. Relieved to the point that she hadn't even bothered to tell him she knew about the other girl he got with later that night.

What was the worst thing though, was the thought that matt had sent her yet another shirtless pic, flexing his non-existent abs.

God, is this man trying to make my day worse?

Unless there was someone on God's green earth that had a thing for toneless stomachs and flabs for arms, (which was certainly not her), she assumed matt's snap was an attempt to violate her peace. And it certainly worked.

When Matt first started showing attention to Azzi during trig class, the overbearing snickering from his friends and the constant "Yo, Mrs Henderson" to get her attention was tolerable, maybe even sweet. But after a few days, the novelty began to wear off.

"You haveeeeee to date him, he's so cute" Nailyssa giggled with excitement. "And plus, think of all the senior parties we could go to" her best friend pleaded, beady eyes looking to her with desperation.

Azzi sighed. "When do you ever stop thinking about parties?", knowing she was the one having to save Nailyssa's drunk ass from random parties at 3am.

"When you stop thinking of basketball" she shot back teasingly, sticking out her tongue before going back to her innocent, doe-eyed plea of desperation.

So, when the third week of his pathetic courting came around, Azzi felt cornered into going out with him, especially with hundreds of phones shoved into her face when Matt held a torn out notebook page to his chest that read, "Will u be my gf?" with handwriting that almost convinced her she had become dyslexic.

She later found out that the note had been written last period.

10 minutes before he asked her out.

Catching herself mid zone-out, she felt a set of eyes peering from the side of her vision. "Sorry, did i do something?" Azzi asked, wondering what the hell she had done this time.

"No, uh— that guy sounds like a dick. You deserve better" Azzi looked at the girl in confusion, quickly glancing away when met with her intoxicating blue eyes.

Before she could think, she sputtered "Well, he's not all bad..." in defence, gazing down. Why would she say that?

Part of her felt bad for Matt, because while his actions were inexcusable, she clearly never gave him much attention, let alone affection. Guilt began to fill her mind.

"Oh yeah?" the blonde challenged, a hint of fire in here eyes. "From what I've seen he looks like a Class-A prick" Paige laughed. "I bet you can't say one thing you like about him"

"Who even told you that you could look at my phone?" Azzi scoffed, pretending to look offended when she really was trying to avoid the lingering question.

"Uh, i think my actions can be justified given you've given me an involuntary lap dance, then touched my shoulder, then made me knock my water bottle over all in the span of 10 minutes. You should be glad i'm not asking the flight attendant to switch you to a middle seat right now" she laughed.

Azzi felt the heat rising to her face again— a feeling that was beginning to feel all too familiar. "Hey— don't blame me for the last part, my hand went nowhere near your water bottle" Azzi protested, struggling to argue her point.

"Still avoiding the question, i see" she smirked, her eyes darkening.

"Who even are you?" Azzi asked flustered, deflecting her response for as long as humanly possible.

"Paige." she answered mindlessly. Her gaze refocused, leering at Azzi. "Now hurry up and stop avoiding the question" she beckoned, waiting for her answer with a smug look on her face.

After a few too many moments of silence, Azzi finally begins, "I guess— his zest for life?" Azzi responded, surprising even herself that she was able to come up with at least an answer.

Paige stared at the girl for a few moments, analysing her response with an inexplicable expression on her face.

Is she checking me out right now? what the—

Paige burst into laughter, covering her face with her hand.

As Azzi looked quizzically at Paige, she couldn't help but note the absence of Paige's soaked jacket, leaving only a plain white tee, fitted around her toned body. The outline of her black Nike bra was so apparent, she was sure she could trace it from memory.

Azzi gulped. Just from Paige's palm in her face, her arm tensed, creating a subtle outline of her biceps. Her rock hard biceps.

God, what training does this girl do?

This is definitely what matt thinks he looks like when he stares in the mirror...

Wait, what was she doing?

No. Clearly she just had a thing for biceps. Everyone has them, Right? She thought as she attempted to reassured herself.

And plus, being attracted to someone as cocky as her? That's laughable. She chuckles.

Torn out of her reverie, a smug grin meets her eyes. "Staring at something?" Paige asked with a little too much amusement.

Caught.

"Paige, in order for me to stare at something, there'd have to actually be something there" Azzi retorted.

For a moment— silence.

Shit. She thought.

Had she pushed the wrong buttons?

Welp, this was going to be an awkward plane flight, but at least her ego—

"Ouch—" paige slowly began. "Y'know, that would hurt a lot more if i thought you actually meant it" The blonde snickered, clearly entertained through Azzi's cute defensiveness rather than the selection of movies in front of her.

Yup, laughable. Azzi sighed, thinking to herself.

"Don't worry, you can feel them if you want, I don't mind" Paige offered, her grin turning devilish.

"You're too much" Azzi scoffed, relaxing into her neck pillow to avoid Paige's brutally honest conversation.

When Azzi finally stirred awake from her much needed nap, she felt a familiar gaze coming from a certain blonde next to her.

Paige had been staring intently at her face, as if examining her.

"Why are you staring again? do i have something on my face?" Azzi asked, quickly opening her phone camera as self-consciousness overcame her.

"Just wanted to" she shrugs, maintains eye contact, clearly not caring about being caught. Her mouth opened with a slight part, breathing deeply as she diverted her gaze to Azzi's lips, before quickly revisiting her eyes.

What. The. Fuck. Was. That.

Before Azzi could react, Paige sighs, "Listen, um. on a serious note, no man should treat you like that. I mean, you're gorge—"

The plane began to rattle as it prepared for takeoff, bumping the passengers on and off their seats.

Azzi turned back and began to ask Paige to finish her sentence before a sudden hand enveloped hers.

As Azzi looked toward Paige with surprise, she was met with a complete different person. Paige looked straight ahead, terrified. The blonde was shaking, her heart beating so loud that Azzi could feel it through Paige's grip.

At the sight of this, Azzi's hand immediately softened around Paige's, brushing lightly against Paige's hand with her thumb in reassurance. "Listen, just take deep breathes. turbulence will be over in less than a minute" she reassured her.

Paige nodded, blinking her eyes shut. Her hands squeezed Azzi's in comfort and gratitude, sending butterflies in her stomach.

What is this girl doing to her?

.

.

.

Paige -

Paige should’ve pulled her hand back. She really should’ve. But there was something calming about the way Azzi’s thumb twitched slightly in her sleep, her grip loosening and tightening with each breath.

She was supposed to be focusing on her form, her footwork, her free throws —hell, maybe NBA 2k stats— not the girl snoring lightly beside her, with one arm draped into Paige’s seat and the other still interlocked with hers like they were... something.

Paige shifted her face toward the window, but kept her eyes open. In reality, she was just watching Azzi from the reflection in the dark plane window, hoping to finally go unnoticed.

The sky outside was just navy and cloud now, but her thoughts were louder than any storm.

She pulled her hoodie tighter around her head, letting the hum of the plane lull her into stillness. But the space between them felt warmer now. Just, aware.

From the corner of her eye, she could tell Azzi wasn’t sleeping either.

“You’re not one of those people who actually sleeps on planes, are you?” Paige murmured.

Azzi didn’t move. “Why?”

“Just asking. You’re really committed to the whole mysterious silence thing.”

Azzi smirked faintly into the hoodie. “I like quiet.”

“Bet you don’t talk to matt either then” Paige said teasingly, voice drifting between tired and curious.

Did azzi really love a man like that? The thought made her heart ache.

Why should she care? She had only met the tanned girl 3 hours ago. except... why did she care?

A few beats passed. Paige looked over for her response, only to see the girl had nuzzled into her pillow, her breaths slowing.

Instead of getting her answer, she let herself turn to fully watch Azzi. Her strong jawline softened in sleep. The way her lashes fluttered. Her shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a set of defined abs on the tan skin, hinting at a shimmering diamond: at the base of Azzi's core.

God damn. Paige huffed, biting her fist to suppress the inexplicable things that diamond stud was doing to her body.

Nope. No thoughts. Just focus. Focus on— basketball. The trials. Beating out 164 of the best girls in the country. Not... whatever this was.

Still, she didn’t pull her hand away.

.

.

.

Azzi -

As Paige drifted into a seemingly deep slumber, hands still firmly attached to Azzi's, Azzi was relieved when she remembered that she wouldn't encounter Paige after this flight, because Lord knows what this girl could do to her if she had the time.

Azzi sighed, might as well rest up too then.

She closed her eyes, but her mind didn’t. It couldn't. not with Paige's earlier words still floating around in her head, infiltrating her every thought.

That line — "you’re gorg-" was stuck in a loop in Azzi's brain, playing and replaying in Paige's husky voice.

What was she going to say? Was she about to call Azzi gorgeous?

Azzi groaned into her neck pillow, wracking her mind with frustration. The turbulence could not come at a worse time.

Did she mean to say that? Why did she have to stop there? Did she stop herself on purpose?

Paige had said it so casually. Like it meant nothing.

But, maybe it did.

Azzi turned away slightly, pretending to adjust her pillow. Trying to piece together this girl who flirted like it was her first language yet froze during takeoff like a terrified puppy. The contrast was… weirdly endearing.

Before she could spiral too deep, Paige nudged her thigh.

"Hey," she said, a soft whisper. "What are you going to Nevada for, anyway?"

Azzi paused. "Family trip" she smiled, pursing her lips. She had automatically given into her first instinct to lie. Why did she lie?

She sank further into her guilt as Paige was looking at her with that same open face she had when the turbulence hit— no teasing, no bravado. Her fingers tracing Azzi's hand.

Azzi sighed, at least she wouldn't have to see her again to explain.

Or so she thought...

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

When the plane touched down, Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to alert Paige, whose head had tilted forward now, chin tucked to chest. Paige's nerves had dissipated with a single, oddly familiar touch upon departure. And now, her arm had slipped away in the descent. The comforting weight no longer in her hands.

Azzi flexed her fingers, unsure why they felt colder.

She shook herself out of it. It was just a flight. A conversation. A coincidence.

Tomorrow, the real game began. And Paige? Well, she wasn't even on the starting five.

It was time to set her priorities straight.

Still, as she watched her stand and stretch, laugh with the flight attendant, glancing back reassuringly— Azzi couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if this moment wasn't the last time they met...

But as she began to stir out of her seat, Paige's backpack laid just inches away from Azzi. Inside, contained the same AAU practice jersey Azzi had in hers.

As if fate decided for her, this wouldn't be the last she'd see of Paige Bueckers.

Except... she should've known what's coming, because a bad luck trail really does follow Azzi Fudd. All. The. Damn. Time.

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

[ysaefinn]

i don’t know if this really counts as an evil!mommy sugu but like . i imagine suguru to be a little lenient with how often you refer to him with his name and not his title. he understands you get shy sometimes, and he doesn’t mind when some days it takes you a little longer to call him mommy. he can handle a shy baby!

but i feel like the one time he really enforces it, is when you’re either arguing or trying to make a point. he won’t respond until you refer to him as mommy. like, you try calling him sugu or suguru and he’s just smiling softly, patting your cheek and saying; “i don’t know who you could possibly be talking to, because that’s not my name.”

and not only does he do it to slightly embarrass you, but to also subtly put you back in your place. to see how sheepish you get when you feel your cheeks heating up. because you’re just being so silly! how could you even fathom arguing with the man you call mommy? who takes care of every need you may or may not have? silly baby.

-🍎

Mdniiiiiiiiii!!!!! Infantilization, mommy kink, mentions of spankings and age regression , manipulation..?? Toxic relationship dynamics (evil mommy!sugu)

Ik the warnings are a little scary but the misandrist in me is hyper analyzing everything a man does for better or for worse

And applenon!!!! This very much is evil mommy sugu behavior lol typical Mommy Sugu understands that you're an adult and he DOES RESPECT YOU i swear he does it's a healthy relationship!!!!!!! So he's gonna insist on you calling him mommy (cuz being mommy is a mindset, and you have to earn the title like a badge of honor <- his words) In cases of arguments he lets you get your way but will listen to you and make you feel heard, THEN the coddling happens ect ect we're not here to talk ab that rn.

So back to evil mommy!sugu!!!!!! I agree i agree i agree i love this so much buuuttt i think he would do this for your safety really, he's not worried about his position crumbling or anything, just wants to remind you that this is mommy you're talking about, he's here to protect you, keep you safe and happy, and you can't any of those things when you look at the person who provides for you and think negative thoughts, he is your caretaker!!!!!!!!!! He does what's best for you, mother knows best and mother knows that putting you back in your place is the best way to go back about this. So he's gently palming your cheek and sliding a thumb inside to lure his sweet obedient baby out again, and once the initial embarrassment of calling him mommy fades you're back into your safe cozy comfy world, you turn pliant basically lmao.

If you have been recently spanked (which i don't see happening with a shy reader but just let me have my fun plz) he won't hesitate to pat your ass a little, trace little patterns or words (its usually "baby" ehe) to trigger the sting and effectively remind you that you're giving attitude to somebody who had you on his lap not too long ago lol

He does reward you when you get back to your senses (regress enough) tho, holds you in his arms while you suck on his nipples, pats your ass (reminder of the spanking just Incase), smoothes down your hair, and asks who mommy's good baby is (answer or else) all while cooing and gently scolding you about acting out <33

Again this is evil mommy sugu lol (or yandere) he actually is the Suguru in the kidnapping and replacing your evil abusive mom fic!!! (Well to a degree at least bcuz he's over all very gentle and focused on helping you adjust and learn to be loved and cared for again) So not evil just yandere and very strange as he does refer to himself as mommy casually (you probably have seen the little snippet I shared)

Typical mommy sugu is just....built like that ig??? Again it's a mindset, he's an intense caretaker who wants to do everything to you but lets you be yourself and have a personality outside of just being his baby

[petermorwood]

Hi i have a question!

I just bought myself a decoration sword replica (anduril from lord of the rings) and I've been wondering: aren't swords supposed to be balanced at the point of the hilt?

Because mine isn't, and I'm wondering if it's because of the decoration sword aspect or if i was wrong in my assumption.

I don't know a lot about sword manoeuvrability, and definitely not enough to assess which point of balance might be useful for different uses, but I've been theorising that there lies a potential answer.

I am hopeful that you can help me clear the mystery, and thank you so much in advance!

No mystery IMO - it's almost certainly because of the word you yourself used twice.

What you've got isn't a sword as much as a decoration in the shape of a sword, a specific sword from a famous movie series at that, and to the average movie fan it's far more important for a replica prop to look like what it, is rather than actually work like it.

A really expensive replica "Ghostbusters" proton pack...

...may well have all the necessary blinkenlights and even a sound system for THAT power-up noise, but 99.999% of owners won't expect it to actually tear holes in the fabric of reality.

Of course there's always that .0001%, tinkering away at the back of garages or in basement workshops. If they ever get a proton pack to work properly, we'll all know. ;->

Replica swords, axes, maces etc. are an exception to this general rule. People want them to work, though TBH "work" usually just means "flourish in a dramatic way" (which can be problematic in itself, as you'll see).

Very few take it to the point (or edge) of "take my enemies apart", and those who do have left a trail of weapon bans in their wake. Thanks for nothing.

*****

On the subject of balance, just for curiosity I checked several of my own repro swords - specifically this lot, photographed some years back when they were out taking the air...

...and rather to my surprise, because the amount of metal in the hilts varies so much, the point of balance on Every Single One is more or less the same - a generous hand's-width, say 4-ish to 5-ish inches / 11-ish to 13-ish cm, down from where the lowest element of the guard stops.

This means, of course, that the balance point on the blade is further down on the side-sword (my avatar) and basket-hilt schiavona than it is on the plain cross-hilts, but that aside, one good handspan seems to be the default distance.

Where does your Andúril replica balance? You didn't mention.

*****

Balance point aside, being "battle-ready" (the usual tag for repros intended for clangy re-enactment) really isn't a consideration for movie replicas, since most if not all aren't meant for use beyond decor, posing, cosplay etc.

Swords like these got the nickname "wall-hanger" for a reason.

Decorative replicas are certainly not for fighting with, so whether or not they balance like a real sword is immaterial. I'm sure some do, I'm equally sure most don't.

TBH, posing and cosplay shouldn't include swinging the replicas about in violent combat simulation movements, because they're usually not made like real swords. The nature of their construction (a thing called a "rat-tail tang") means there's a potential fracture point concealed within the grip.

And THAT means the stresses of sword-fighting moves, even without hitting something, might snap blade from hilt. If not noticed in time, the next dramatic swing might send the blade flying off in a dangerous unintended direction.

About 10 years ago I wrote a long illustrated post about that risk. I've seen it happen and though no harm was done, it was a hair-raising (and for one person, almost hair-parting) experience.

*****

The main questions regarding an Andúril replica (or a Braveheart, a Longclaw, a Conan Atlantean etc., etc.) are these:

"Do I think it's an accurate recreation of the movie sword?"

"Do I think it's a handsome ornament in my home?"

"Do I think it's worth what I paid for it?"

"Does owning it make me happy?"

If the answer to those questions is "Yes", then that decorative replica has fulfilled the purpose for which it was made.

Hope This Helps! :->

[atlas-ghoul-account]

Home Safe.

Warnings: swiss leaves, discussions of ocd, mentionings of touching wood, talk of food, food anxiety (whether it is safe to eat, intrusive thoughts surrounding food), intrusive thoughts about safety of others, hand washing, dry skin because of hand washing (idk i'm just saying everything just in case)

Notes: So this is a bit more of ocd phantom, credit of ocd phantom still lies with @littlemoon-beam lol, I just borrowed it to project some of the stuff I do. That being said, whilst this is my experience of ocd traits/tendencies, if you see anything that isn't quite written write please reach out!

Also also: I can't remember who said it, but I've borrowed the headcanon that Swiss goes back to the ministry to help Aether in the infirmary.

Phantom's ocd gets worse now that Swiss is gone. Now that he's no longer touring, Phantom can no longer make sure he's okay, he can't check on him. He usually knows he's okay, he can just look over and check. And there Swiss would be, looking at him like he was insane as the young quintessence ghoul pokes his head into his bunk to stare at him for a second before leaving. But now he can't do that, because Swiss has gone back to the ministry.

And Phantom knows he can't phone him every time he gets an intrusive thought about him. He knows that, but he wants to. Because then he knows he's safe. And he just wants to know that Swiss is safe.

The compulsions don't take long to start creeping in.

After the Birmingham ritual, when Swiss announces that Aether needs him in the infirmary, Phantom freezes. This can't be real, it can't because Swiss is his lifeline. He's the only thing that keeps him from spiralling out of control, the only sense of normalcy that he can latch onto whilst on tour.

They don't have long to say goodbye, because it isn't really a goodbye after all, but a see you later. Although, that doesn't mean it hurts any less. And almost everyone else has known Swiss longer than him, so Phantom thinks they deserve spending longer with him. So he holds back, no matter how much it hurts. It makes sense to Phantom at least, he probably didn't matter as much to Swiss as the others he had known for years.

"See you later, Ant," Swiss whispers, "Call me anytime." Phantom gives a small nod.

"See you later," He whispers, not able to stop himself from thinking that perhaps he should be going to help at the infirmary instead. He was a quintessence ghoul after all. A small part of his brain told him that actually, Swiss' quintessence, whilst not his main element, was stronger than his. That Phantom wasn't good enough with his quintessence to help.

That night, when he's alone in his bunk, listening to the world go past, his skin crawls. He can't sleep, too scared that if he does something might happen to Swiss. Or he wakes up and the other ghouls are gone too. Or Perpetua, human's are rather fragile after all.

'He won't make it home safe unless you touch wood.' His mind calls out to him. Phantom knows it's irrational, he knows. But why take that risk? Why risk Swiss? He doesn't have to question it before he's tapping wood in his sequence.

Three times, which he repeats another three times. Before repeating it one final time.

Although, it does little to resolve the anxiety, if he's being honest. Instead, he slides out of his bunk, creeping across the bus to Swiss' bunk. He slides in, pulling the curtain closed behind him. It was the closest thing he could get to Swiss. It would have to do.

The rest of the ghouls notice small differences in the coming days. The young quint ghoul looking unsure before doing certain things - things he hadn't questioned in a long time.

Hand washing became more frequent, worried that the germs on his hands would make the other ghouls, or Papa ill. Then they'd have to go back to the ministry, and that would be another friend he'd had to tour without. He didn't think he could do that. Naturally, it didn't take long for his hands to dry out, for his knuckles to start splitting. It made playing harder, more painful. But he couldn't stop himself from washing them, he couldn't risk them like that. Besides, the split skin didn't hurt too much.

The safety of food start cause anxiety in his chest. It wasn't that he didn't trust the other ghouls, they cooked for him all the time. But with the spike in anxiety and the small spiral downwards, he was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the doubt. What if a fly landed on it? What if they didn't wash their hands properly? Can food be left out of the fridge for that long? This is definitely cooked, right? Does this look pink?

The doubts were endless. He tried to ignore them, instead, combatting the thought with a small touch of the table wood. In the short term, it cleared his fears. He touched wood, so despite however irrational it was, it would still mean he would be okay if he ate it.

It doesn't take long for the ghouls to text Swiss, to ask for advice. They feel guilty, knowing that Aether, Omega, and now Swiss were absolutely swamped in the infirmary, but they really don't know how to help the quint.

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 33: Humans

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Not Beta read.

Word Count: 4511 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

They hadn't even been engaged for a week, and Sukuna was already convinced he lost you. The night before, you'd refused to sleep in his arms, and at dawn, he woke up alone in the huge, empty bed. He had to do something, fast.

He dressed quickly and went straight to the courtyard, sure to find you training. But you weren't there. The surprise was so great that began to grow in his chest. Although his stomach craved food, he decided to search for you throughout the castle. Every corner. Every hallway. Nothing. This was bad. Very bad.

You must have been avoiding him, hiding in some hidden corner, like he had before, when that vulnerability got the best of him. And then he wondered: Was that how you felt at that moment? So alone, so disoriented, lost within the cold walls of that old castle? Maybe... maybe he should give you space. With that thought in mind, he returned to the dining room, resigned to having breakfast without you. But there you were.

Sitting there, already dressed for the day, reviewing a document as if nothing had happened. Seeing him enter, you looked up and gave him a smile. Not just any smile, but one that, far from calming him, completely disconcerted him. Weren't you annoyed with him? Sukuna crossed the room silently, ignoring the bows of his subjects for having their full attention on you.

"Good morning, Sukuna," you greeted him with a smile.

"Where were you this morning?" He ignored your greeting, eager to know the truth.

"Writing the report you asked me." You arranged the papers and handed them to him with a bow.

"You weren't in the library, where were you?" Sukuna inquired.

"In the backyard, I wrote it while Choso was playing with the chickens," you explained.

Just then, Choso appeared from under the tablecloth with a mischievous smile, as if he were playing in the shadow of the table. You picked him up to signal him to sit properly in the presence of the king, a command he immediately obeyed.

"Chickens go buk, buk, buk," Choso clucked.

"Okay, Choso, and what sound piggies make?" you asked excitedly.

"Oink, oink!" Choso replied excitedly.

"At this age, they're like sponges; they memorize everything they hear, so watch your language," you asked Sukuna.

Sukuna didn't know what to say. An unexpected warmth welled up in his chest, spreading like a slow fire. He didn't understand what it was exactly, but he knew it wasn't something trivial. It was similar, perhaps, to the shudder he felt that time he saw you with that first dress, so beautiful it hurt to look at you. But this… this was different. Much more intense. Deeper. As if something inside him had been ripped out and, at the same time, healed. Without taking his eyes off you, Sukuna slowly sank back into his chair, as if he feared your words were a cruel joke.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm still upset that you indirectly called me disgusting," you answered directly. Some servants looked at each other as if to say, "Did you hear what she said?"

"So you don't love me anymore?" Sukuna asked pessimistically.

"What? Why do you think that?" you asked, confused.

"Well... You seemed very disappointed yesterday." He raised an eyebrow.

"And it won't be the last time," you answered truthfully. "But it's normal. Couples argue all the time; it's part of being human. It's something you'll have to accept if you want this to work long-term. If you don’t want to deal with it, just kill me." You shrugged.

You knew perfectly well he would never apologize for what he'd said. Pride pierced his bones like a second skin. So this was the closest thing to an apology you could hope for.

You trusted he loved you. You knew it not from what he said, but from what he did when no one else was looking. He loved you so much that, even when he discovered you weren't perfect, that you weren't invulnerable, he still chose you. He was learning to truly love you, with every imperfection, every crack.

And if you were wrong... if that love didn't exist or faded into the shadows of his silence... well, you also had a plan. One you'd crafted carefully, painfully. A plan you prayed you wouldn't have to use.

"Do you trust me that much?" Sukuna asked, surprised by your unexpected request, but didn't show it.

"Since the first day."

"I trust your decision, my king." "Why?" “Because you always have the last word.”  Sukuna remembered the day your paths crossed, during the harvest more than a year ago. Who would have imagined they would end like this, wrapped in such intimate stillness. Now he looked into your eyes as if everything he had ever unknowingly sought was hidden within them. As if you carried, with unconscious calm, the weight of his world. Warm and serene, your hand rested between his. With a delicacy unusual for him, he slowly raised it and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"You will never regret your decision," Sukuna promised you as he kissed the engagement ring.

You smiled at him. You clasped the knife you had hidden under the table with your other hand and put it back in the pocket of the dress. Luckily, today was not the day.

➽──────────────❥

You hadn't trained much with Mahito lately. Wedding preparations consumed your days, and you could barely catch a break. Besides, each session with him left your body in tatters; it was hard to justify so much pain amidst flower arrangements and menu tests. Yet, there you were, drenched in sweat, facing him once again.

This time they were training in close-range combat, and you'd chosen a wooden bow from the armory, sturdy enough to defend yourself, but not so lethal as to seriously injure Mahito. When he launched long-range attacks, you responded with swift and accurate arrows. But when he closed the distance, you turned the bow into a barrier, a makeshift shield to deflect the blows. Mahito never held back. Never. He fought with the same brutal intensity from the first second until your body decided to give up on you.

In the middle of the exchange, you saw him flinch slightly... and suddenly, he split in two. You didn't have time to think. One attacked from the front. The other appeared on your flank. You tried to take cover, but an unexpected kick caught you in the side. The air was knocked out of your lungs, and you tumbled to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as you fell.

"You need to be faster to catch up to me," the real Mahito told you as his clone offered a hand to help you up.

"That's what I'm trying to do," you grunted, taking his hand.

You and the Mahitos felt the presence before you saw it. A new, different energy had just burst into the parade ground. It was Esou and Kechizu. You were still struggling to process it. You had children. And not just any kind of children: curses. It shattered everything you thought you knew, not just about yourself, but about the world itself. It was a strange, unnatural dynamic, considering how little you knew about curses. As far as you understood, they didn't have families. They didn't feel bonds like humans. They weren't born with ties; They were born of hatred, fear, pain.

And yet, there they were. You watched Esou and Kechizu closely, scanning them from head to toe. There was something about the way they stood together, the way they looked at you, that challenged the idea Kenjaku had taught you long ago. "Are they really as human as Sukuna?" you thought.

"Mommy!" Kechizu exclaimed as he ran up to you.

He extended his deformed arms, wrapping you in a huge hug. He took the wind out of you, unable to contain his emotion. He curled up to your small body like a giant dog that doesn't measure its own size and just wants to play.

"I can barely breathe," you told him, your voice breaking.

You shoved him hard in the chest, trying to push him away enough to catch your breath. Your lungs burned, compressed by the closeness, by the weight of the moment. But there was no time for more. Suddenly, without warning, Kechizu opened his mouth wide with the clear intention of swallowing you whole. A grotesque, brutal, instinctive act. Your body reacted before your mind: you delivered a precise blow to his lower jaw, forcing it to snap shut.

"That was a good punch, miss!" The Mahito brothers applauded proudly.

The impact knocked him back. He fell to the ground with a dull thud, like a disarmed beast. But he didn't stay down for long. Within seconds, Kechizu was back on his feet, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and bewilderment. As if he didn't fully understand why you had fought back.

"Little brother!" Esou ran to him to help him.

"That’s rough," the Mahito clone sneered.

"Why are you hitting him?! He just wanted to eat you!" Esou scolded you.

"I wasn't going to let him eat me!" You complained.

"But you're our mother, it's your obligation to feed us!" the curse argued.

You froze at that statement. Sukuna had brought these curses who had the desire to eat you, and surely he knew it. And yet, he gave them to you to care for as your children. Your hand tightened around the wooden bow. Frustration burned inside you, held back only by a shred of reason. You couldn't kill them. Not yet.

Sukuna needed information, and those creatures possessed it. If you killed them now, you could unleash consequences you weren't willing to face. You'd attract the attention of those best kept out of the loop, at least for now.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to think. If you couldn't kill them... you'd have to find another way to protect yourself. Something more cunning. More subtle. You couldn't afford to hesitate. In this game, the smallest mistake could cost you more than a wound.

"Are you hungry?" you asked them with a confident smile, holding the bow in front of you. "Fine, come to Mommy."

Esou and Kechizu grinned widely, like naughty children who thought you'd finally come to your senses. Without wasting a second, they launched themselves at you with open jaws, eager for a good bite. You decided to apply what Mahito had taught you.

You drew two arrows from your quiver in a single fluid motion. You aimed, not with absolute precision; it was impossible to focus on two targets at the same time, but you didn't need to. Not this time. You released the string. The arrows whistled through the air before plunging into their skulls with brutal force.

If Sukuna had taught you anything, it was to put your enemies in their place. To humiliate them so thoroughly that no one would dare cross that line again. You'd done it with Yorozu and Naoya. It wasn't your preferred method, but it was the most effective. The clearest.

Some of the cursed blood splashed over Mahito and his clone. Instantly, their skin began to blacken, slowly rotting where the liquid had touched it. "Do not come into contact with their blood," you engraved it in your mind.

Esou and Kechizu began to regenerate. Their skulls were reconstructing with grotesque slowness, a dance of flesh and bone that would have made anyone with lesser mettle vomit. You didn't wait for them to finish. You approached quickly and stealthily, the bow still in your hands. And when his eyes opened again, you lifted him up and hit him with all your weight, again and again, until the wood gave way with a sharp crack and broke between your fingers. It wasn't a defense. It wasn't a warning. It was a declaration.

"Mommy!" Kechizu whined between the blows. Esou was still collapsed on the floor.

"You can’t eat mommy. It's forbidden, did you hear me?" You demanded an answer.

"Yes, Mommy," Kechizu stammered, covering his head with his arms, clearly scared.

Conscience instantly consumed you at the sight of your poor son in a fetal position. Even though he had tried to eat you, you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him anymore. You threw the broken bow away and approached him slowly, careful not to let him bite you.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" you asked. Kechizu nodded fearfully as Esou regained his feet. “I’m sure Uraume can prepare something delicious for you.”

“It must be later. I’m already very busy preparing the test banquet, miss.” Uraume interrupted the conversation. “How come I never see when he arrives?” you wondered, surprised by their stealth. “I’m just here to let you know that the king has ordered Esou and Kechizu to come to his office.”

➽──────────────❥

Sukuna finished reading the report you had handed him that morning. Although the content didn't reveal information of high strategic value, it did offer something more valuable in the long run: understanding. You had explained in detail how the commune worked, its social structure, and its internal dynamics.

The central figure was the Judge. He not only mediated conflicts but also distributed tasks equitably for the commune's survival. In essence, he was the one who decided who did what. If someone refused to do their part, they weren't directly forced to do so… but the family received fewer resources. A subtle punishment, disguised as a natural consequence, kept everyone aligned under the idea of ​​the common good.

The commune functioned like a large family. Everyone knew everyone else, and each person knew their respective roles. Within their barriers, they were a closed community, united by necessity and distrust of the outside world. They preferred to trust other humans, even if they didn't like each other, rather than a curse. That natural distrust made them secretive, reluctant to open up to strangers, and even less so to newcomers.

The report was full of useful details, but what really caught Sukuna's attention were the personal bits you'd included, almost unintentionally, as if you were still speaking from the place of someone who had once belonged to that world.

There was an anecdote about the time you mistook sugar for salt and ruined a stew, but your father ate it, pretending to like it, just to spare your feelings. Another recounted how you and Higuruma took care of a family of stray cats for several months. And, of course, the infamous story where you nearly broke Nagi's back defending your sister. That brought a short, dry, but genuine laugh to his lips.

There was an unexpected warmth to those stories. A humanity that Sukuna didn't believe inhabited you. Or rather, that he hadn't wanted to see. He carefully closed the report and put it away in his filing cabinet, as if it held more than just information. It was then that Esou and Kechizu entered the room, heads down, shuffling, and with an aura of shame that filled the air like a bad perfume.

"King, mommy is very mean!" Kechizu exclaimed, annoyed.

"She exploded our heads because we just wanted to eat her!" Esou complained.

"That's because they don't have the right to eat her." Sukuna growled. "She's exclusive to my taste."

This made it clear to them that you weren't someone they could easily take advantage of, so they only had to agree to obey the rules of their new mother and, now, their new boss.

"If you don't like the mother I'm offering, then our deal is off. Which is a shame, since I was very excited to work with you," Sukuna said sarcastically. "Now I have no choice but to get rid of you."

Sukuna was about to throw his hand when both curses knelt, surrendering immediately. They had finally understood that they couldn't complain now that they had entered the castle. This had been a trap to accept a deal where they only end up losing.

"Yes, yes, we want this mommy, my king," Esou said quickly, while Kechizu nodded quickly.

"That's better." Sukuna smiled widely at the satisfaction of putting someone in their place, beneath him. "Now, all that's left is your end of the deal. Tell me, what humans have you seen cross the Impossible Belt?"

"Not many, usually, they're Kamo. They're setting up huge camps to try to enter the Kingdom, but we've delayed them as best we can," Esou replied, while Kechizu nodded along with every word.

Sukuna had expected it. Given his long-standing rivalry with the Kamo, he wasn't surprised that they wanted to reclaim their precious lands and their descendants. He should send more curses into this mini-war they secretly started.

"Sometimes sorcerers we don't recognize try to enter, but we kill them too," Esou explained.

"And the girls?" Kechizu reminded him. At that, Esou shook his head to stop him from saying anything else, his eyes pleading with him to keep it quiet.

"Girls?" Sukuna inquired, sitting upright in his seat to focus his attention.

"Ah, two little girls we wanted to eat. They were carrying a huge backpack full of things. Apparently, they had recently escaped from the commune," Esou explained between stutters, trying to downplay it.

"You ate them?" Sukuna asked.

"No, they smelled horrible. We didn't even want them," Esou explained, still downplaying it. Little girls didn't pose a danger to anyone.

"So that's just why you let them escape?" Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"It's not like we could do much, my king. The Kamo quickly found them. I don't understand how they managed to withstand the horrible smell."

Sukuna pondered this strange situation. How was it possible that two little girls could cross the...? “I left the kingdom. My mother used to take us to the Gojo Kingdom twice a year. My mother, Yorozu, and I used to travel through the lower reaches. It was a rather arduous two-day journey.” He remembered what you had told him before embarking on your first trip together. You weren't the only one to cross the belt with ease. Unless…

“I have two more sisters. Nanako and Mimiko. They're barely 11 years old and completely alone because Yorozu killed our mother.” Could it be? There was no other way. “It's pointless. If they left on the day of the reaping, they must already be in some other kingdom. It may sound selfish, but I'd rather think they're fine than search for them only to be told some curse had caught up with them.” Your words came back to him like a whiplash, a sign from the universe that he was right.

Sukuna didn't know what to do with that information. He held it in front of him like a volatile weapon that could either work for him or against him. On the one hand, his instinct was immediate. He wanted to find you, to tell you to go inspect the Kamo Kingdom before it was too late. But something was holding him back. Now that he knew King Toji was planning to invade his lands after the birth of his firstborn, any false move could accelerate the conflict.

And then there were his plans… He had already delayed them more than he would have liked. Postponing everything again, just now when everything seemed to be moving forward, meant more than a change of date. It meant sowing doubts, opening flanks, revealing that something was troubling him. Rumors would spread like wildfire, and his carefully cultivated position of power could falter.

Sukuna leaned back in his throne, his jaw tense, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He was caught between what he had to do and what he couldn't afford to do. Between the looming war and the promise to serve you for life.

He had to make a decision. And I knew that, whatever it was, no one would come out unscathed.

��──────────────❥

It had been a while since you'd seen the servants so happy. You'd ordered Uraume to prepare all the dishes that would be served at the wedding as a "trial," though in reality it was nothing more than a carefully disguised excuse to feed the castle with something other than oatmeal and stale bread, as usually.

The dining room was a living feast. It overflowed with exquisite aromas and vibrant colors: juicy cuts of meat, steaming stews seasoned to perfection, platters decorated with exotic fruits that rarely crossed those stone doors. The bustle of conversation mingled with hearty laughter, clinking cutlery, and full glasses.

You were sitting at the head of the table, the place where Sukuna normally sat, watching the scene with a calm smile. Choso rested on your lap, eating slowly from a plate that Mrs. Inoue had set out for him.

Uraume, for their part, didn't know what to feel. They had strict orders from the king: to obey you without question. But unlike Sukuna, blinded by affection, they didn't share his enthusiasm. Something wasn't right with you. You smiled too much, you were too considerate, your gestures were calculatedly tender. Your requests to the king—seemingly innocent—bordered on the absurd, yet they were always accepted without resistance. And most disturbing: your aim. It wasn't normal for someone with so little training.

Uraume didn't trust you. And what worried them most… was that they couldn't prove why. If they went to the king without proof, he wouldn't believe them, or worse, he'd punish them for wasting their time and going against his precious wife. Sukuna was too comfortable in the palm of your hand to listen to reason.

Choso took the last strawberry from the plate, bringing it clumsily to his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyelids drooping like heavy velvet curtains. Within seconds, his small head tilted to the side, overcome by sleep. It was time for a nap. You wrapped your arms around him and gently picked him up, as if he were the most precious treasure in the castle.

"I'm going to take Choso to his bed for a nap," you told Mrs. Inoue before heading for the exit.

"Let me escort you, miss." Uraume followed you.

The two of you walked in silence through the castle's long corridors. The only sounds were the soft echoes of your footsteps and the muffled sound of your breathing. The dining room was behind you, filled with laughter and clinking dishes; and Sukuna, still preoccupied with his reunion with your new children, seemed to be in another world.

You reached the room with the three single beds, a makeshift space that Uraume had to hastily prepare. You gently placed Choso on one of the beds. He barely moved, deep in sleep, his brow furrowed slightly. You tucked him in carefully, tucking the covers around his sides, as if that small gesture was enough to shield him from the world.

"I know you're up to something," Uraume blurted out.

You froze at the statement, as if time had stopped just to hear that accusation. Yet every fiber in your body responded with discipline. You didn't allow a single muscle to tense, didn't give the slightest hint that the facade was cracking. It was too soon for that.

"Up to something? Like what?" you asked, confused.

"I don't know, but I'm willing to find out," Uraume said.

You knew this moment would come. Sooner or later, someone would begin to suspect your actions. And it made perfect sense that it would be Uraume. They observed with the precision of a scalpel, with the kind of attention born not of hatred, but of pure distrust, cultivated through instinct and experience.

You didn't dislike them. In fact, there was something in his methodical coldness that you respected. But you also knew he didn't like you in the least. And now, listening to them, you understood that it was no longer a suspicion. It was a warning they'd been putting off for a long time.

And yet, you just smiled. With that carefully rehearsed calm.

"What do you think I'm doing?" you asked seriously.

"So you're up to something?" Uraume raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe..." you said, turning your attention back to Choso, dismissing their words.

"I'll find out and tell the king."

Uraume wasn't good at threatening people. Despite having Sukuna as an example for over half a millennium, they couldn't get past that monotonous voice that characterized them so much.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Uraume. That's why you're his favorite servant," you told them with a knowing wink.

"I'm not just his servant, I'm his right-hand!" Uraume exclaimed, defending their position in the castle.

"Lower your voice. Can't you see that your king's son is asleep?" you ordered.

"That child is only your son," they corrected you.

"If he's my son, then he's the king's too. That's how marriage works," you clarified.

You looked one last time at Choso. Luckily, the scream hadn't disturbed him at all. You brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. A brief reminder of why you were doing all this.

"I don't know what you think I'm doing, but I can assure you that you and I are doing exactly the same thing. We both serve the king with everything we have and are loyal to his word to the end." You got out of bed and stood shoulder to shoulder with them. "The only difference is that I'll have a crown on my head, and you'll always have an apron around your waist."

You gave her one last smile before leaving the room, serene and measured. You walked past Uraume without a glance, as if their presence were nothing more than a shadow in your path. It was that gesture that ignited the rage in their chest. They clenched their fists tightly, their knuckles pale with tension. They couldn't bear it. That smile of yours wasn't courtesy... it was mockery. A cruel reminder of how far you'd risen in such a short time.

Just a few months ago, you'd been nothing more than a footnote in the castle's history. This was an injustice. Uraume had served Sukuna with unwavering devotion for ages past. They knew every nuance of his temperament, every preference, every latent threat. They knew what was best for him. And you... you arrived with your soft manner, your poisoned smiles, and your skills that didn't match your story. No. It wasn't envy. It was a sense of duty.

They were going to find out what you were hiding. And if it turned out to be an attempt, if there was even the slightest possibility that you posed a threat to the king, you wouldn't just fall. You would pay for every one of your deceptions with the most expensive coin.

Next →

Masterlist.

taglist:

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @danniwerner @paradisestarfishh @missroro

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[torturedbrat]

PLSSS CAN YOU DO A BILL FICTION INSPIRED BY ONE OF THEIR MUSIC VIDEOS?? YOU CAN CHOOSE WHICH ONEEE

IT WOULD BE SO COOL<3

★ Fem!reader x Bill Kaulitz 2016

★ Tags: Angst, fluff.

| Summary: Bill and his girlfriend have been going through different rough difficulties in their relationship for a long time now, they both know it's useless to keep being together. None of them tried to do anything about it till he decided to put an end to it.

— 1st Chapter: Love don't break me.

"I need to get home, but I keep on holding on."

• Bill narrates;

I can't believe I'm here again. I want to hold her and tell her that we'll be okay, but I don't know how cause even I don't know the answer to that.

I look around the dark room, the blinds shut, I predict it's around 2 in the morning. My arms are around myself, unable to move after another successful fight; this time seeming worse than ever, after reproaching each other about every stupid little thing there is in the book.. even though this time they weren't just a few misunderstandings—It was much more than that.

I furrow my left eyebrow, once I hear the faint sound of her sobs in the background, hitting my eardrums. I hate seeing her cry, she knows that well, as much as I also know how I shouldn't cave in. But she's already scooting closer to me, wrapping her arms around my body loosely, tightening even more the second I tried to move.

My head fell to the front, a few of a blonde-platinum strands of hair pushed to my face. I sigh as she tries to comfort herself while in touch with my skin, 'Please, don't.' She mutters as she feels how I'm starting to stretch out my limbs to stand up this time, a thing I can't get through with because my body simply won't respond.

But I'm angry, so why are my arms moving around her, why are my eyes filled with tears when I keep hearing her say over and over how sorry she is? Maybe I don't really want to go.

Why can't my heart and my head work at once?

I open my mouth to speak, her face is buried on the back of my neck, and so are my fingers in her hair when I reached out to finally touch her. 'Why do we do this?' Is everything I manage to say—I can't understand how we've gotten to this point; The fighting, the aggressive make-up and when you think you're done, more fighting again.

I want to tell her that I won't be here forever, laying on her bed—completely wrecked and thinking about all the times we've been okay together instead of living the moment. And I've got a feeling that she doesn't want to be stuck in this back and forth for much longer.

But how will we move forward? we still love each other, there's no doubt, and even if we've been told that our love is gross, we'd always managed to prove them wrong.. this time we'll make it again, right?

She looks at me, untangling herself from the grip she's had on me before—I've got a feeling that she knows what I'm thinking about by the way she's shaking her head at me. 'Don't say you're gonna give up on me.' The look on her face said it all; regret, even fear, dispair... everything at once—like she expected the worst.

But I didn't say anything, I didn't dare. I couldn't get my mind to work, everything oh so overwhelming. Till her voice pushed me off my trance. 'Say something!' It was only natural she would react like that after getting no reaction out of me, so that's when I finally managed to push myself on my feet, looking around for the shirt I discarded earlier god knows where before this argument started, to slid it back on.

'I'm tired of fighting.' I said, bitter tears still stinging the corner of my eyes as I put on the rest of my clothes, pacing around the room to pick everything up, anything that I must be forgetting to grab while I make the feint of leaving.

I sniffle from my nose, and from one moment to another she's standing up from the bed, looking completely hysterical, not even bothering to put her shirt on as she tried to get ahold of me, eyes closing tight.

'You can't leave like this..' She said again, trying to change my mind, but this time I can feel myself getting a little bit of impulse, ready to leave it all behind. The black eyeshadow that I know is staining my under eyes, I wipe it off with my knuckles.. now I'm the one who's shaking his head. I can't listen to her this time, If I keep doing so I know I'll never leave. I know I'll never run free from this golden cage that we named love.

'I'm sorry, It's over.' And I didn't even stutter this time, It felt like I've been holding those words inside me forever, like I've been meaning to say it for a long time now. A big relief rushing through my veins, as if I could breath properly again.

But she didn't look relieved, she didn't look like it had been taken a big weight off her shoulders like I thought it would. She was silent, still.. It was even frightening. I wanted to turn to her and say something else, my hands even itching to touch her one last time, but I knew it would just make it worse than it was already.

So I went away, with broken wings.—I picked up my dignity, all my pride and I walked out.

But was I doing what was the best for us? wasn't I making it worse? what if I just regret all of this in the future?

I guess I'll never know.

Inspired by the 'Love don't break me' MV. For a better experience, listen to the song while you're reading.

[ I made this, all fanfics posted here are original ideas by me. ]

[blue-willow-tree]

Hey! Coming from Jades account, re my question about online dynamics. Any advice? Thank you! (Copied my reblog below here for reference.)

Hey! New domme here again. Met a wonderful girl and shes really taken my life by storm. We’re interested in starting a dynamic but we’re 90% online, although visits are planned soon.

I’m just curious, I know you’ve never had a long distance sub/domme relationship but where would you start if you were in my shoes?

We discussed kinks and boundaries at the very beginning of our conversations. We have done safe word discussions and both actively using them as needed. Someone suggested we start with small, easy to follow rules which we already have ex not touching herself without my permission, asking to cum etc which we already have done. She’s more experienced than I am, so just trying to get a better grasp on where to start, other than her wonderful input and suggestions. Same person suggested the Obedience app which I have and fooled around with a bit, and love the idea of.

I know you said you’re not in the headspace for asks so answer when you can, if you can! Thank you so much for your valued answers!

Hi there, love <3

I feel honoured for being trusted with this. The lovely @madamejadex is correct, I do have quite a bit experience when it comes to exploring BDSM online, and I'll do my best with this answer for you ♡

1. Don't overthink it

For the more SFW things, when it comes to exploring things online for the first time, people often let their mind spin and get overwhelmed because it's something new. But I promise, it isn't at all scary or something drastically different. When I speak to someone online, I like to picture the texts they're sending being spoken in their voice, and I like to imagine we're talking at a cafè or talking next to one another on a couch with some wine. Text like how you'd speak, imagine their voice saying all the words they're sending, and simply imagine you're in the same room. Don't let the idea of speaking to someone online seem daunting, rather embrace it and imagine how well you'd click in person through the way you text one another. That way, you can smile and giggle and feel a lot more carefree just by reading their texts, because you can allow yourself to imagine it playing out in real life. When it comes to sexual talks, I think it's wonderful that you two have discussed boundaries already and that you're exploring apps and learning about one another's kinky sides. This is a great step, and I say again to simply not let the idea of being online overwhelm you. Take things step by step, see what works and what doesn't work, and I suggest having a few sfw calls and one or two kinky calls before meeting to see how that energy would click when it comes to making conversation in real life or making dirty talk.

2. Save some things for when you meet

This is mostly for the SFW context of it all. If you two are planning to meet one another, which is seems like, I definitely suggest saving some stories or little facts about yourselves for that day. Everybody loves those fun "Ask me questions" online games when you get to know somebody you're texting with, and that can be extremely fun and healthy because you get to see how well you two click and get along, but don't share every little story or fun fact about yourself because then you won't have as many things to share when you meet each other. Or if you'd like, save those stories for a phone call, because then you can hear their genuine reactions and you can give those reactions to them as well, which makes the moment feel a bit more special. When it comes to the kinky side of things, it's definitely good to already have all your kinks laid out onto the table and it's good to explore some sexting, but keep some of the fantasies you have based on your shared kinks to yourself for a little while, so that she'll get even more butterflies when those fantasies come to life. But as I said, only the ones that are based off of your shared kinks. E.g let's say you both have a kink for public play. Instead of sexting about it, keep that information in your back pocket, and let it come to be for the first time in real life.

3. Understand that some things can go wrong, and prepare for them

When it comes to being online, there are a lot of things that can go wrong, and we need to be aware of those things. Perhaps you two are having a scene through sexting, and one of you gets an emergency phone call or has an emergency to attend to. I suggest coming up with a code word or emoji that you'll use specifically in that sort of situation, because you likely won't have time to type out a full sentence. Or, perhaps one of you gets triggered by the others text. This can happen sometimes, just as it does by hearing someone say something in your ear during a real-life scene and getting triggered by it. I suggest using the traffic light system with the coloured heart emojis, or having code words which will signal what the situation is. And because these things can happen, don't only have discussions on what sort of aftercare you each like in real life, but also state the sort of aftercare you like after an online scene. Of course these are a lot less intense, but they do require aftercare and you two need to know what you each prefer when it comes to being triggered or getting a drop in the middle of the scene. Some need space, some need extra attention, some need specific words to calm them down, etc etc. It's very important to implement this when it comes to exploring BDSM online.

4. Don't be scared to ask necessary questions

When people meet another dom/me or sub online that they seem to click with, they tend of avoid the important make-or-break questions simply so that they don't lose what they've just found. Unfortunately, this doesn't stop the eventual downfall when those make-or-break moments eventually occur. Ask the necessary questions, because at the end of the day the right person is the right person and the wrong person is the wrong person. "Are you looking for an exclusive committed relationship out of this or are you looking for something open?", "What are your opinions on _____", "I see that you want a committed relationship out of this, are you someone who wants marriage or never wants to get married?", "What type of domme/sub are you? (Rough, soft, gentle, brat, etc)", etc etc. Ask the necessary questions, both regarding what could make or break your dynamic, and your relationship as a whole. Ask these things before taking the big steps, so that you don't risk heartache even if it all seems like it clicks. Take the jump, and see where you fall. It might still be in each other's arms.

That's all I can think of to say here, but if I think of more I'll come back and add to this. I'll link this post to my pinned post as well ♡ I wish you two the absolute best and I'm sure you both will thrive in your dynamic/relationship! Have a beautiful week <3 Also, I have a post about punishments linked to my pinned post. Those can be implemented both in person or online, I think that's something that can be beneficial to read through when figuring out what punishment should be given to a certain action. Those are punishments I've given and received in online scenes <3

[plainsviemenace]

Max poked his lip out as if he was pouting, sure it was childish but he didn't mind being playful like that with her. "What a rush that would be. I know we can't but it would be hot. I could tell you wanted me to fuck you right then and there. I could see the lust in your eyes and hoped you wouldn't fuck up but you did good. Proud of how good you handle things in public, way better than I do." No way would he forget her fantasy and he couldn't wait make it happen for her. If you want an audience I can arrange that too but I wouldn't strip you naked. I don't want everyone seeing what's mine." He didn't mind the provocative outfits she wore on stage but her being naked in front of someone else wasn't something he was into but if she wanted it then he would do it for her. "Unless that would get you off, then I can be okay with it" Maybe she liked people staring at her body knowing they couldn't have it. It could be a power thing for her. "I was worried that my issues would be too much for you or you would want someone more like you." That sounded weird so he cleared it up. "An entertainer, like actor or singer. I thought maybe you had a type." Not that Max didn't act or couldn't sing but he wasn't known for that. "It's wild how we seemed to know but not know and now here we are."

He could feel his cock twitch as the word whore left her mouth. She was his whore. He slid his fingers into her mouth sliding them back and forth, fucking her mouth with them. "You want to get on your knees for me and beg? What a good little whore you are for daddy. I'll remember that and we can revisit it." Control was what got him off and he loved having control of her. Hearing her moan, his eyebrow arched up. "My girl enjoys seeing me lick her blood?" She was already thinking of things for their next session. He was impressed at how well she was doing and how she was getting turned on by it all. "Sometimes I scare you, don't I? You never know what I'm going to do, what I'm going to say and who will be around when I do it. Fear can be very exciting, can't it? You should be scared. You're never going to be the same again. You're already changing. No one is going to be able to satisfy you except me. You're a slave to my desires and my cock." Confidence oozed out of him and yet the whole time he spoke he had made sure not to touch her, just make her lay there defenseless to his physical, verbal and emotional actions.

He ran his fingers over her clit, soaking in the moans that escaped her lips "All mine, every inch of you belongs to me. Good because I'm going to wreck you completely and take you all night long." He saw her smirk feeling the blade on her body. She was handling everything he was throwing at her tonight. She was a kinky as he was and he loved it. Her scream from the first touch of the flogger caused another jolt inside of his cock. It had been good to let her take a break and concentrate on licking and sucking his cock. It took her mind off the rush of pain coursing through her body. The red welts forming on her perfect skin. This vacation had been the perfect time for this so her body could recover before she had to work. "You cum and you won't get fucked, you'll have to watch me jack myself off and you wont get to taste daddy." He fucked her with his fingers till she was right at the edge then stopped all contact. Maybe it was cruel to get her right there and then stop but it would only made her anticipation build. He loved edging her to the point she was a begging wet mess for him. Whore? She must really love being called that so he would use it more often. "Yes, daddy's whore." He got up and walked to the table again and picked up his phone. "Daddy wants us to remember this." He began to take pictures of her laying there so vulnerable, tied up and wet, then a picture of his cock and how hard it was. Setting the phone up on the table he pressed record and moved back to the bed. "Our first movie together." They had joked in tweets about making a movie together before they got together but they hadn't meant a sex tape. "Daddy's going to fuck his little whore now and give her what she wants." He kissed her roughly before positioning his cock at her entrance and shoving it in hard. "That's it, take every inch of my cock baby. Enjoy it filling you up." His hands were on her hips thrusting deep with each movement. "Cum for me babe, give it all to me." It didn't take him long to cum inside her after being so hard all night. "Fuck…babydoll." He kissed her roughly and began to play with her breasts and suck on them. He started to stroke his cock again to get it hard for a another round. "You want more?" He pushed his cock back into her and began to fuck her hard again, his mouth biting at neck, marking it and then his hands moved to it He had tried this before and she didn't like it but now she was tied up and her body on fire. "Daddy's good girl." He said as his fingers slowly tightened on her neck. "He's gonna pound your ass next, you'll like that." He kept thrusting as he hands stayed on her neck lightly stroking, tightening and then stroking again, trying to ease her into it "Your life's in my hands and yet you know you're safe." Did she know that? Was she sure that he wouldn't snap and tighten his grip? It was another form of trust, edging where she could barely breathe but then taking the pressure off and enjoying the adrenaline rush together.

"A lot more wild than you've seen yet, darlin'. He was sure she could handle almost anything he threw at her but he was taking it slow to let her adjust to all the things she was doing and feeling. "That's exactly why I did it. I like shocking you, seeing how things affect you and I was thinking about how wet you must be getting up there and how we weren't going to sleep that night, which we didn't. We were all over each other as soon as you got off stage." He knew her team want her to be happy and saw that he was making her happy. He was sure after things ended with Barry that she was depressed but then she met Chris and seemed to be getting over Barry but then a curveball was thrown and Barry was fucking her again. Max sat back letting them fight over her and giving her a place to come to when she felt overwhelmed by it all. He was her safe place where she knew she could go to not only get fucked but to be held and listened to. "If I ever got on the stage we would have an issue because I would make sure you moaned for me before I went backstage." It sounded bad that he would put her in that position but if you looked at it from his standpoint, how could it not be a turn on to show all of them how weak she was for him, how much control he had over her. "I would have fucked you so hard baby and you would have loved it." He laughed before kissing her. "I haven't forgot what I promised you and once we're back in New York, I'll set it up and you can fuck me in the ring." It was a fantasy she mentioned and he would make sure she had it. "I would be a fool to lose you when you complete me in so many ways. You make me just as happy and my family see it too." He had it planned out in his head to go skating, fuck her and never see here again, typical Max when he was fresh out of a relationship but that hadn't happened. He had met her and had a great time skating, laughing, talking, he wasn't even trying to fuck her since they had so much fun. He was going to take her to the park to walk around and continue talking buts she asked if she said she wanted to go home, would be come in for a nightcap. She had no idea he didn't drink and he went with it and no sooner had they got into her apartment, they were in all over each other. He woke up and he didn't have the urge to sneak out and leave her there to wake up alone. Instead he stayed and watched her sleep till she woke and then they made love. Love not some quick fuck, this time it wasn't as fast and furious as it had been the night before. And then she was back on tour, back with Chris and Barry and Max concentrating on work and talking to her whenever they found the time. It was scary how fast he had started to fall.

She had a nice ass, plump and perfect to stick his cock into. Their first date he had filled all her holes, starting with her ass then she wanted him to get her vibrator and fuck her pussy while he fucked her ass then after she came, he slid the vibrator out and fucked her with his cock. Their first time had been memorable in so many ways with neither expecting him to stay the night but he had. She had even changed the bedding and they shared a shower together. Pretty good first time for what was supposed to be a quick nightcap and fuck. All of it told him that this was meant to be and she had felt it too. Now here they were furthering things as they explored their kinks.

[arttsuka]

You don't have to draw all the requests sent your way! As you get more popular (and you will because your art is good) that will become literally impossible to do. I promise you not a single art blog answers every single ask.

But, but I HAVE to you don't understand :( the pressure is killing me, I don't want to disappoint people

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[avcnturine]

IS SOMETHING WRONG? the question disturbs the fine threads of his instinct before he can ascertain its source, but as the foreign gentleman pivots suddenly on his heel and says something about keeping him from his work, the pieces come visibly together and the facile smile peters away into curiosity. from the other's posture to the look on his face, this had suddenly stopped being a carefree conversation ; and so he's more alert too then, registering the whistle of the wind and the scratch of dry leaves on stone, the eager voices of passersby. at the same time, mister zhongli goes on about spirits, the idea of something being different here, and aventurine doesn't get a chance to ask for clarification before he's left in the wake of gently-flapping coattails, rich in umber-gold embroidery.

but even if he was short on details, one thing had been clear enough: it sounded like the gentleman might be sensitive to ghosts. and if that, then. . .

under the⠀(⠀not wholly false⠀)⠀pretense of wanting to know what he'd meant, he moves to follow. the soft click of shoes on the limestone tick like a countdown ; is it just him, or do those green will-o-wisps that always flicker in and out of sight here seem bigger than before? "mister zhongli, if——"

chance doesn't let him finish. a lens flare ; a limp body tumbling from a banister. eyes wide, he half-starts to rush forward, but the expected collision isn't of body on body, crumpling both to the ground, but of body on something he can't make completely make out. an exchange——the gentleman speaks softly, his back still turned, and the man pulls himself up as if he hadn't just fallen from a height and shrieks in response with a lunge, stopping even aventurine in surprise.

but the next moment, his heart makes the leap a foot up into his throat with interest. a brilliant halo the color of jade blazes over every inch of the man as he keeps staggering at——or into?——zhongli with raving vitriol. quickly, aventurine glances up as steps re-hasten to the scene, catching more camera flashes from the stair landing and a pair's silhouette looking on, bouncing and turning to each other with grins behind shadowed hands. then back to zhongli again, half-turned to him as he draws close, and on comes the stoneheart's smile once more, people-pleasing but newly tinged with something hopeful.

"me?" gold shimmers effortlessly over them both, locking with the emblem of qlipoth's engine framing teal. didn't seem like it was needed, but just in case. "seems like there's been a misunderstanding, friend."

is this just for show? a spectacle of special effects for the waiting fans on livestream? the elated giggles from the landing overhead seem to suggest so, but the expression twisted with rage in front of them is too real to be staged. "who are you?" the impressively uninjured man spits at him like a slur, looking him up and down with disdain. "pah, small fry should get out of here. my score is with him——" attention cuts quick back to zhongli ; mouth twists in an ugly scar of hatred. "he who dares to show his face in this place again. you beat that tryhard, cirrus, so you think you can do anything you want? teng xiao, o ' great ' general?"

cirrus. . . teng xiao? neither are familiar names. he tosses a glance at zhongli, but before either can say anything, the myriad voices growl again, seemingly to itself.

"what a useless heap of scrap. already almost dead. you." still those wild eyes are fixed on the teyvatian, then the face splits in a wild, unnatural grimace that stretches the human boundary into uncanny. for a split second, the eyes flash back and forth with panic, then jerk angrily to fix on their target. "deeper in the garden. i'll dine well on you there. you've always loved a ' fair ' fight, so feel free to take your time. there are more appetizers than usual today."

still wearing the too-wide grin, the vivid flames fade, and aventurine barely moves to catch the body in time as it folds. "easy. easy, friend." but it's too limp, too heavy——he knows the verdict long before lowering the man to the ground and checking for a pulse beneath the pale expression embalmed in dread. arm resting back on one knee, he levels a sigh. ". . . looks like he's actually dead."

| like calls to like |

Gnostic Hymns, Fyxestroll Garden Commission

[sskk-manifesto]

Atsushi's back in the game!!! ۶( ˆ o ˆ )