urmompookie

[urmompookie]

Title: “Rotten Sugar”

The valley used to smell like ripe fruit.

Now it reeks of smoke, ash, and his smug laugh echoing across the hills.

You stand behind reinforced glass in your factory's control room, watching mechanical arms fold sugar and syrup into delicate coils. Candies—perfect, glistening, addictively sweet. People say yours are like velvet on the tongue. But they don’t know the cost. The fruit you need only grows on one kind of tree.

And that idiot in the pinstripe suit is cutting them down one by one.

The Onceler.

I've met him once—long fingers, flashy smile, voice like oil. He treated me like some knockoff merchant, barely worth the spit on his factory boots. Thought my sweets were a joke. But now? My supplies are dying along with his forest, and i know he doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not the one whose margins are shriveling like the fruits he’s destroying.

I watch his broadcasts sometimes. Not because you care what he has to say, but because you like to study him—how he moves, how he sells. Greed pours out of him like syrup, sweet and sickening. He’s always pitching something. Always smiling like a predator. His Thneeds are spreading like a disease, infecting the world one stitch at a time.

And people are eating it up.

Literally.

Because guess what sells well with a flashy new Thneed? A bright pink candy stick to match. They don’t even realize it—how your work and his are tied together by roots and soil. How his chainsaws are the reason your best sellers are starting to taste like rot.

I haven’t sold your top shelf in weeks.

I walk the aisles of my factory in silence, hands clasped behind your back.Some Workers always are in the mood to start chats with when I always pass there.. I do not mind them..they bring kidness and that's enough when all day you have to deal about paper works, how high you can get, the money you get and other predators who try to ruin you.

But I never lose temper..no..

I refine it.

Every tray of fruitless product gets recorded. Every price shift in the market logged. Every tree stump in that thinning forest gets tallied in a private folder with one name scrawled at the top.

The Onceler.

I remember the first time he visited your property. Flashy green suit, guitar slung over his shoulder like a joke. Walked into MY tasting lounge without an appointment, popped a sample into his mouth, and laughed like you’d served him a clown's boot.

He called my operation “quaint.”

I still remember the exact way he leaned in close and said,

“Nice try, sugar. But I sell dreams. You? You just give people cavities.”

I said nothing then. Just smiled, nodded, let him turn his back and walk away.

He hasn’t been back since.

Every day his trucks roll out of the forest, each one stacked with another layer of your future losses. Every tree that falls takes another flavor with it. And yet he grins like it’s all one big joke—like the world will never run dry.

And when he does—

Ile be ready.

Which makes today… interesting.

Because today is the day he proposed a “collaboration.”

And today is the day you agreed to visit his factory.

Not because you wanted to.

Not because you were curious.

But because it’s always better to see the battlefield up close.

The morning drags on under the weight of paperwork and cold calculations. The numbers are slipping, fruit yields shrinking—the slow bleed of his chainsaws cutting deeper every day. I keep my face neutral, hiding the swell of something sharper beneath.

The scent of overripe fruit and sterile cleaning agents fills the air as I move through the factory floor. Workers move with steady purpose, their faces calm and often smiling—proof of the fair wages and care I insist on. The atmosphere here is quiet but warm; this place is more than just a factory. It’s a small refuge from the greed clawing away at the forest beyond these walls. They know the stakes, but they work well and honestly, and I reward that.

I pass trays of candy—bright and vibrant, still holding the promise I want my sweets to deliver. These aren’t just products; they’re pieces of what I’m fighting to save. The machines hum with a steady rhythm, almost soothing. Somewhere in the back, a conveyor belt creaks in protest, a faint but real warning I file away.

Back in the office wing, I stop by the secretary’s desk.

Natasha looks up from her paperwork, cheeks faintly flushed as if she’s been holding back words she isn’t sure she should say. Her kind eyes flick up with a nervous smile, softening the sharp edges of the sterile office.

“You have the meeting with the Onceler this afternoon,” she says gently, her voice warm but carrying a hint of worry. “He’s been… asking about you.”

She fidgets slightly with the edge of a folder, her usual calm shaken just enough to show how much this whole rivalry weighs on even those around us.

“Just… be careful, Miss..” she adds softly, the seriousness in her tone grounding her kindness.

I nod, offering a small, tight smile in return. No words are needed. Natasha’s loyalty runs deep, but so does her hope that I don’t lose myself in this game.

I gather my papers and step away as i walk over the hallways and out of the factory.. the hum of the factory fading behind me, replaced by the looming weight of the meeting ahead.

When the sleek black limousine arrives, its glossy surface reflecting the fading sun like a mirror, I step inside without a word the driver is the only to greet me. The soft leather presses against me, but I stay tense, watching the skeletal forest pass by—the trees thinning like the last stubborn notes of a dying song.

The limo slows and stops before the factory, a monstrous pink-and-green beast wrapped in banners and smoke.

Inside, I’m led immediately to the reception area—his mother sits behind the secretary’s desk, a poised woman with a voice that makes your brain screetch just by hearing her which ruins  her forced smile whenever someone appears.She greets me with  that forced smile as she bows her head down at me.

“He’s expecting you,” she says sternly, voice trying to sound softer but not quite.

I nod and move through the polished hallway beyond, walls lined with glossy photos of Thneed campaigns and awards—an ostentatious parade of victories that thinly veil the rot underneath.

The hallway feels too bright, too clean, but I can smell the faint undertone of synthetic sweetness mixed with machine oil and something like desperation.

The steps echo sharply as I approach his office door—massive, adorned with ridiculous gold lettering spelling out The Onceler. I pause briefly, letting the silence hang, then enter.

I step inside, letting the door creak slowly shut behind me. The sound feels louder than it should in the suffocating hush of his office. His space is exaggerated—walls taller than necessary, ceiling draped in long, swaying fabric dyed in unnatural colors, probably meant to look luxurious but only smelling faintly of dust and old perfume.

I don’t sit.

He notices.

His boots slowly drop from the armrest with a theatrical thud, as if gravity suddenly remembered how to work. He straightens in his chair, smoothing out the cuffs of that tailored green suit like he’s preparing to perform. His smirk never quite fades.

“You look tired,” he says casually, voice curling around the words like smoke. “Trouble keeping up? I get it. Not everyone can move product like I do.”

I glance at the empty chair across from him, a plush thing too ornate for comfort, and still don’t sit.

“Must be frustrating,” he adds, reclining a little, “watching the shelves get a little more… barren. A little more desperate. Tell me—how’s that ‘limited edition’ fruit line holding up without the forest?”

I let the silence answer.

His grin falters—only for a fraction of a second. It’s microscopic, but I catch it.

I move to the window instead. It’s wide, polished within an inch of its life, looking out over the thinning forest and the factories beyond, all pulsing with mechanical life. From here, his empire looks like a fungus spreading across the land.

“Nice view, huh?” he says, voice still light, but there’s an edge under it now. “Built it all with these two hands. And a little ambition.”

I turn slowly, finally meeting his gaze.

“Ambition is cheap,” I say, voice low, even. “What costs is what comes after.”

The smile drops.

Only a little.

He sits up, rests his elbows on the desk now, laces his fingers together like he’s suddenly in a boardroom instead of a circus.

“So here we are,” he says. “I made the offer. Collaboration. Thneed-brand treats. Candy that sings. You bring the sugar, I bring the spotlight. We both profit. Hell, I’ll even let you print your name on the box if it makes you feel better.”

I let the silence stretch until it folds into something heavier.

This wasn’t a partnership.

It was a leash.

And he wanted to see if I’d take it willingly.

I finally move toward the chair, but not to sit. I place my gloved hand gently on its back, eyes fixed on his desk. A framed photo of him—alone—sits where most would place family. Beside it, a solid gold paperweight shaped like a Thneed.

“How many flavors will vanish before you run out of colors to sell?” I ask quietly.

He blinks.

“Sorry?”

I look him dead in the eye.

“I said, how many flavors will vanish before you run out of colors to sell?”

This time the words are slower. Sharper. Like a scalpel laid across silk.

His smirk flickers—not gone, not yet, but shaken. He leans back just slightly, pen still in hand, but it’s stopped spinning. The air in the office tightens like it's bracing for something.

“You talk like I’m the villain here,” he replies eventually, voice a bit quieter, a bit tighter. “But you and I? We’re not so different. We both sell joy, don’t we? Sweet, sweet joy. I just know how to sell it faster.”

“And emptier,” I murmur.

His eyes narrow.

“Don’t get all righteous on me, sugar. Your factory’s still standing because my forests are falling. Without me, your stock would rot in crates. People want what I give them—and your candy sells better next to a Thneed. That’s just business.”

“Business,” I echo, my hand still resting lightly on the back of the chair. “You burn the orchard and call it rain.”

A silence passes. Thick, slow.

He exhales through his nose and straightens again, reaching for something under his desk—a folder, neatly labeled and pristine. He slides it across the surface toward me.

“Partnership details. Branding, distribution split, production speed-up if you move operations closer to the edge of the forest. There’s room for both of us, you know. If you’d just stop trying to be so... noble.”

“You think I’m noble?” I ask, one brow raised. Amused, almost.

“Not exactly,” he says with a shrug, that greasy grin returning. “But you sure act like you’re above this. And I think that’s cute.”

I don’t take the folder.

I let it sit between us like a rotting fruit.

He watches, waiting, drumming his fingers on the desk now, trying to appear relaxed but I can see the pulse at his neck working harder than he’d like.

“We could do something great,” he says. “Or we can keep pretending this is a war.”

I step away from the chair, eyes still locked on him.

“It was a war the moment you heard the first tree scream.”

He says nothing.

The silence stretches.

He stares at me now—not with amusement, not with annoyance, but with something else. Something slower, more careful. Like a man watching a fire crawl closer to his curtains and wondering if it’s too late to pretend it’s just warm light.

“You know,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair again, “most people would kill to get a seat at this table. You're the only one who walks in here and acts like it’s the gallows.”

I glance at the folder again.

“Maybe it is.”

He laughs—too loud, too sharp—but it doesn’t last.

“You’re something else,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Always so cold. Got your whole place running like a clock, people whispering when you pass like you’re carved from marble. And yet…” His gaze sharpens. “You still showed up.”

“To look you in the eye.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs. “You came because part of you is curious. Because some little part of you wants to know what it would be like—what we could build together. Candy and Thneeds? That’s power, sugar. That’s legacy.”

“You’re right,” I say softly. “I am curious.”

He perks up, smile twitching at the corners.

“I’m curious how long it takes before everything you’ve built collapses under its own glitter.”

And there it is again.

That flicker of something behind his eyes. Not rage. Not quite. Something tighter. Personal.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he says, voice low now, almost quiet. “You think this all just happened? You think I got this far on accidents and good lighting?”

I say nothing.

He stands, the chair rolling back slightly as he places both palms on the desk.

“You’ve got your clean halls and your tidy reports, and you think that makes you better. But I built this from nothing. I carved it out of mud and trees and belief. And guess what? I’m still standing.”

“You’re standing on stumps.”

The room stills again.

Outside the window, smoke rolls from the chimneys. Machinery churns like some great beast gnawing on what’s left of the land. The sky has turned a sickly peach from the smog. Distant hills are stripped bare, their bones showing beneath dying roots.

I turn toward the window.

“Look at it,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t move at first.

So I say it again—this time, not as a request.

“Look at it.”

His head turns. Just barely.

His eyes follow mine.

A long pause.

Ash dances like snow across the glass. One of his transport trucks lumbers out of the treeline, wheels caked in mud, its back loaded with stripped, lifeless bark. Behind it, the forest hangs limp. Pale. Skeletal.

“This is what you’ve built,” I tell him. “A future made of sawdust and denial.”

He scoffs under his breath, but doesn’t speak. Not immediately.

“You talk like the trees cry at night,” he mutters.

“They don’t need to,” I reply. “Everything else does it for them.”

And I let it sit.

Let the silence dig in like roots through softened earth.

Let him stare at the collapse he’s painting in real time, framed perfectly by the wide factory windows.

Only when the quiet becomes too heavy does he shift back to the desk, fiddling with a pen.

“Think it over,” he says again, but now it sounds rehearsed. Deflective. Hollow.

I nod once, slow.

“You’ll have my answer when I’m ready.”

He smirks, thinner now, brittle around the edges.

“Of course.”

I turn from the window and walk to the door. The folder stays untouched. His gaze follows me, but he doesn’t stop me.

He doesn’t dare.

And then I leave.

The factory’s exterior greets me like a painted corpse—bright and hollow. Smoke curls from towers that pulse like open wounds. A thick breeze carries the scent of scorched fruit and sugar.

The limo door shuts behind me with a soft, decisive click.

The ride back is silent. The trees that remain blur by like ghosts. In my lap rests a clean notepad, open to a fresh page.

I cross out one word:

Collaboration.

And replace it with another:

Reclamation.

[urmompookie]

had the most atrocious idea to make a reader/occ of a warrior for the jade emperor..SO SO HEAR ME OUT THEIR NAME could be like Xīng Wûshi or else Star warrior who was one the of the best warriors and leader who after seeing Sun wukong come to the palace of heaven and protect the peaches fell in love with him and later he took them with him when he was banished..but after he left to go to the war she was sadly kidnapped and killed by the other gods..

Andd..later reincarnated into a human which i am still thinking on a name..

[urmompookie]

....liked this so much that made a drawing of a female reader....

.....i hope is good

Hear me out ..yandere Macaque hcs …seriously love the way you write him ; maybe this reader lost her destiny one or maybe Macaque found reader first before the other monkeys did 👀 love to see what you come up with please 💗 if your not doing requests no worries you can ignore this :)

(Me: People here love this dude...

Destined One: I've noticed that...)

1) When he first met you, he knew what you were and why you were sent there. Of course he knew, because he met so many before you. The only difference was that you were fresh out of the change, unaware of everything that was around and so utterly alone.

It was just so good to be true; the new Bián huá was completely at his mercy, and of course he was ready to take advantage of that.

You were just so adorable, alone, and so afraid, ready to be eaten by the First Yaoguai lucky enough to catch you. And he was, of course, your sworn protector, a monkey that wanted nothing but help you! You just needed to do something for him, helping him find some magical staff that would help you send you back!

He had May lie—just a little.

He just needed to find the relics, take back his full power, get rid of you, and then boom, he was ready to be free...but you changed everything.

The more time he had stayed by your side, the more he became attached. He started to care; he started to crave your attention and your kindness, and soon he carved for more.

He started to make a few changes to his plan, like finding a way to let you live forever, to let him love you like you deserved, to be yours like he wanted you to be his. 

If it wasn't for that damn destined one...

Not only had he been searching for you, following that connection you two were supposed to have, but he needed to tell you the truth!

He was able to get the both of you away from that other one, but now he wasn't your beloved friend; now he was on the list that had played all this time.

"YOU TRICKED ME! ALL THIS TIME IT WAS JUST A LIE?!"

"Darling, please...calm down. Let me explain." You smacked away his hand. Your eyes are full of rage and tears.

"DON'T YOU DARLING ME! You said you wanted to help me! You were just playing all along!"

You started to walk away, trying to get more distance from him and yourself...only to feel then his sharp claws clutching your head and crashing you on the ground.

"I am helping you... by doing what I must."

2) He'll take you to your new home...with the right adjustment.

Oh, you can run free as much as you like! Just be careful not to fall from the cliff that surrounded the small mountain that you were on! The air there is amazing, and no one can brother you there! The only bridge that could have helped you cross the precipice has been cut off!

You can't go anywhere, and he's aware of that.

He'll give you time and space; he's not that delusional to believe that you won't scream and try to do some crazy stunt when he's around. He'll bring food! He'll make sure you're okay until he'll be sure that you won't act crazy with him!

But you really needed to give him that cold shoulder after all that time?

You'll ignore him for days. No matter what he does, you just kept your mouth shut and your attention on a wall...

You really know how to push his buttons, uh?

"Came on... I know you can't stay silent forever."

"..."

"Listen, I know this is not your plan of life, but believe me! It's still something! You were complaining about how full and boring your life was before, right? Now you're-"

"Trap ... It was boring, but I was free... and i REALLY don't want to be here with you now."

He gritted his teeth, feeling so many emotions in his chest. Before storming out the door of the house, he takes one time to look at you.

"All right! Let's see how much you'll miss me in a week!"

In fact, for a week, food didn't come at all.

3) He loved your stubbornness and your strength, but now it was just so annoying. Why can't you just give up?!

Stop resisting! Isn't it painful to just suffer?! If you just loved him like he wanted your tò do, then it would be so easy! But nooo, you have to play hard to get it, right?!

And let's not mention the so many escape attempts that you had made! How many times did he have to catch you?! How many times did he have to prove to you how dangerous the world was?! How many times he had to brind you the next monkey head before you understood that no one is omg to save you?!

You kept on biting and scratching his hand while he was dragging you back to the house. It wasn't painful at all. It was just boring... It hurt his heart, on the other hand.

"I don't want to! Stop! LET me go!"

He had enough. 

He pushed you on the ground, his foot stomping over your arm. Just near the shoulder.

"What are you?"

"I guess that I was too soft on you." You started to feel pressure on your arm; the pain started to grow second by second. "I need to be harder from now on."

You started to scream, scratching his foot, and punched him, but he didn't bulge a little. He kept on pushing and pushing until

CRACK.

You felt the sound of your bones cracking between the flashes of your arm. Before you could scream in pain, he was already down, his hand on your mouth, and his razor teeth near your ear.

"Does it hurt? Don't worry, I'll make it go away."

The same teeth that were caressing your ear were now deep in your flesh.

A missed arm was a good reminder of what he could do.

4) Were you finally accepting him? 

Where have you finally given up?

He didn't want to hurt you, but you were so difficult.

He'll heal you; he'll take care of you like he had promised. Your arm can't come back; it's better this way, but he'll be there, as he had promised.

He'll kiss every scratch and every wound that he has inflicted. He'll make sure you're loved and cherished by him.

"I love you," he whispers, kissing your neck and savoring your scent. "I need more than you think. I'll never let you go..."

Never such sweet words were so full of poison.

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[urmompookie]

So uh after being for a awfully long off i started seeing many things about the monkey king which got me railed up into making an au where reader is an immortal who has to accompany Tripitaka's journey and with that they have a lot of stories which i may say if this gets popular!

[urmompookie]

okay i did felt like my adam should have a y/n - reader ex wifey .Is one of the eldest angels and she keeps earth safe from any demonic creatures:3

[urmompookie]

Redesign of Adam:

Even tho I liked how he looked i still thought something was missing

I tried to make adam more of on an angel and removed his punk accessories also added this detail that he doesn't wears a mask and that he is half demon half angel but still has that cocky personality