Ooga Booga!Neanderthal Kusakabe's Lollipop
Series Masterlist | Previous - [Tumblr/Ao3]
A/N: Based on this request.
Kusakabe Atsuya has survived many things.
Gojo.
Sukuna.
Toji.
Suguru’s cult era.
Choso’s gas incident.
Higuruma inventing law and immediately marrying into crime.
Kashimo starting a fight club as a marital enrichment activity.
Through all of this, Kusakabe has endured because Kusakabe understands a sacred truth: If the woman is stronger than you, be respectful from a safe distance.
This system has worked for many moons.
Kusakabe also has no mate.
This is intentional.
Mates create problems.
Mates require meat.
Mates expect protection.
Mates make men act stupid.
Kusakabe has watched strong men lose themselves to women.
Nanami went from respected hunter to pregnant-mate belly-rubber.
Toji got domesticated by a woman who used to consider eating him.
Sukuna, the king of all prehistoric rodents, now lets his mate braid his hair while threatening anyone who notices.
Gojo became whatever Gojo is now.
Kusakabe refuses this fate.
Kusakabe is free.
Kusakabe is safe.
Kusakabe is smort.
Then you notice him.
It happens during the Great Mammoth Disaster.
The hunting party returns early.
Why?
Because Gojo tried to adopt a baby mammoth.
The baby mammoth was not an orphan.
The mother mammoth won.
Gojo is upside down in a tree, laughing and bleeding from the forehead.
Nanami is carrying his pregnant mate away from the danger because she keeps trying to throw rocks at the father mammoth.
Toji is laughing because Gojo is stuck.
Sukuna wants to fight the mother mammoth.
His mate bites his arm until he stops.
Kashimo, Choso, and Ino won’t stop howling with laughter because Higuruma can’t sue the mammoth baby in court.
Kusakabe?
Kusakabe is doing the smartest thing.
He is hiding behind a boulder.
Perfectly still.
Breathing through his nose.
Sweating.
He has calculated distance.
He has identified escape routes.
He has already abandoned seven people in his heart.
Then the mammoth mother turns.
Looks directly at his boulder.
Kusakabe’s soul leaves his body through his butthole.
He slowly peeks around.
The mammoth huffs.
Kusakabe whispers a single grunt. (Mommy, please.)
The mammoth Wonder Woman charges.
Kusakabe screams.
He runs.
Fast.
So fast.
The fastest he has ever run in his life.
His feet and hands barely touch ground.
His wig flies with the wind.
His eyes are wide with the beautiful terror of a man who wants to continue breathing.
He vaults over a fallen log.
Grabs a vine by accident.
Swings across a ditch.
Lands painfully on his ass.
Keeps running.
The tribe watches.
Someone gasps.
That someone is you.
You are crouched on a rock, eating berries.
You came to watch the mammoth panic for entertainment.
But now you see him.
Kusakabe.
Stressed.
Sweaty.
Eyes wild.
Mouth open in horror.
Moving with the desperate grace of a hedgehog that has lost his mom.
Your berry falls from your hand.
Your pupils widen.
Your prehistoric brain lights up.
Kusakabe runs past your rock.
You inhale his fear-sweat.
Your entire body locks.
Strong scent.
Fast legs.
Good survival.
Excellent anxiety.
Perfect mate.
You stand.
Kusakabe keeps running.
The mammoth slows, bored now that Gojo has fallen out of the tree and become more interesting.
Kusakabe reaches the riverbank and collapses onto all fours.
Panting.
Alive.
He has survived again.
Then a shadow falls over him.
He looks up.
You stand above him.
Holding your half-eaten berry basket at your waist.
Kusakabe squints.
You stare.
He stares back.
You sniff.
Kusakabe freezes.
Bad.
Very bad.
You crouch.
Sniff again.
Closer.
Kusakabe leans back.
Grunts. (Can help you?)
You tilt your head.
Then grin.
Wide.
Hungry.
Possessive. (Mate.)
Kusakabe’s blood turns to ice.
He points at himself and grunts. (Me?)
You grunt back. (Mate.)
Kusakabe shakes his head immediately. (NO.)
You grin harder.
He stands.
Steps back.
You step forward.
He steps back again.
You step forward again.
The tribe notices.
Gojo, being chased by his own wife now, wheezes. (Atsuya got chosen.)
Nanami looks over, sighs.
Kusakabe hates that.
Toji grins. (Run.)
Kusakabe does.
You chase.
Because this is courtship.
Kusakabe disagrees. Strongly.
He runs through the camp.
You run after him.
He dodges around fire pits.
You leap over them.
He ducks behind Higuruma.
You shove Higuruma aside with one arm and hand him the berry basket for Neanderthal aerodynamics.
Higuruma, from the dirt, grunts. (Assault. Crime.)
You do not care.
Kusakabe grabs a basket and throws it behind him.
You crash through it.
Ijichi’s berries are now everywhere.
Kashimo screams because those were for his mate.
Kashimo’s mate roars from somewhere in the distance.
Kusakabe runs faster.
You laugh.
Kusakabe dives behind Nanami.
Nanami looks at him.
Kusakabe grips Nanami’s leg. Grunts. (Help.)
Nanami looks at you.
You stand there, breathing hard, eyes fixed on Kusakabe like he is the last warm cave in winter.
Nanami looks back at Kusakabe.
Then gently removes Kusakabe’s hands from his leg.
Grunts. (Your problem.)
Treason.
Kusakabe scrambles away.
You follow.
He climbs a tree.
He has never climbed with romantic pressure before.
His foot slips twice.
His loincloth almost catches on bark.
He reaches a branch and clings to it like a dying lizard.
You stand below.
Look up.
Smile.
Then start climbing.
Fast.
Too fast.
Kusakabe whimpers.
Gojo appears on the next branch over, thrilled. (Oooh. She climb good.)
Kusakabe hisses. (Go away.)
Gojo grins. (Mate hunt. Beautiful.)
Kusakabe kicks him.
Gojo falls.
You are almost at Kusakabe’s branch.
Kusakabe looks down.
Too high.
Looks at you.
Too close.
Looks at nearby vine.
Suspicious.
But better.
He grabs it.
Swings.
For one glorious second, Kusakabe flies.
Free.
Untouchable.
A master of escape.
Then the vine snaps.
He falls into the river.
SPLASH!!!
You land on the bank.
Lean over.
Kusakabe’s head pops up.
Hair plastered to his face.
Eyes furious.
Dignity gone.
You clasp your hands to your chest.
Oh.
Wet too.
Even better.
You are in love.
Kusakabe tries to hide after that.
He chooses a small cave far from the main camp.
He covers the entrance with branches.
Smears mud over himself to mask scent.
Breathes slowly.
A flawless plan.
Outside, footsteps pass slowly.
Kusakabe presses both hands over his mouth.
You sniff.
Kusakabe’s eyes widen.
You crouch outside the cave entrance.
Long silence.
Then your hand punches through the branch cover and grabs his ankle.
Kusakabe screams.
You drag him out.
He claws at dirt.
Grunts. (NO MATE. NO MATE. I BAD MATE. VERY BAD. USELESS. SCARED.)
You pull him closer.
Study his face.
He is sweating again.
Terrified.
Struggling.
Hot.
You nod approvingly. (Good mate. Very alive.)
Kusakabe wheezes. (That is low standard.)
You pat his cheek.
He stops.
Your hand is warm.
Your face is close.
Your eyes are direct.
Kusakabe’s brain makes one dangerous observation.
You are pretty.
He hates his brain.
He immediately tries to crawl backward again.
You grab his wrist.
He freezes.
You grunt. (Mate come cave.)
He shakes his head.
You narrow your eyes.
He points at the forest.
Then at himself.
Then makes running fingers. (Translation: I must go somewhere important.)
You squint. (Where?)
Kusakabe points vaguely. (There.)
You look.
It is a bush.
You look back.
He nods seriously.
The bush is important.
You slowly release his wrist.
Kusakabe stands.
Walks toward the bush.
Calm.
Dignified.
Then bolts.
You wait two heartbeats.
Then chase.
Because now you understand.
Mate likes game.
Fine.
You like game too.
The chase lasts three days.
Kusakabe runs across the valley.
You follow.
He crosses river.
You swim.
He climbs cliff.
You climb faster.
He joins a traveling group of rival Neanderthals for disguise.
You walk into their camp, sniff once, grab him by the back of his fur, and drag him out while the rival tribe beats their chest to your dominance.
Kusakabe tries hiding under dead leaves.
You step directly on his ass.
He yelps.
You grin.
Kusakabe tries pretending to be dead.
You squat beside him.
Poke his cheek.
He stays limp.
You try to look below his loincloth.
He twitches.
You lean down and lick his jaw.
He shoots upright.
You beam.
Alive.
Good.
Kusakabe tries bargaining with Higuruma.
Higuruma listens carefully.
Kusakabe explains through frantic grunts. (Woman pursuing me across earth. I refuse mate. Need law. Protection.)
Higuruma nods.
Very serious.
Then turns to you.
You stand behind Kusakabe, holding flowers in one hand and a club in the other.
Higuruma grunts. (Did she hurt you?)
Kusakabe opens mouth.
Stops.
Technically?
No.
Mostly fear.
Some dragging.
One lick.
Psychological collapse.
Higuruma waits.
Kusakabe deflates.
Higuruma nods. (No crime.)
Kusakabe stares.
You offer Higuruma’s criminal mate flowers.
She accepts.
Case closed.
Kusakabe runs again.
By the fourth day, Kusakabe is exhausted.
His feet hurt.
His throat is dry.
His hair looks like a bird nested in it and gave up.
He has crossed half the Neanderthal earth.
You are still behind him.
Cheerful.
Carrying food items.
At some point, you start feeding him during the chase.
He pauses to catch breath behind a rock.
A piece of roasted meat appears beside his face.
He stares.
You are crouched on top of the rock.
Holding it out. (Good mate run far. Eat.)
Kusakabe hesitates.
His stomach growls.
You wiggle the meat.
He takes it.
Chews.
It is good.
Damn it.
You grin.
He swallows. Grunts. (Still no mate.)
You nod.
Then point into the distance. (Run more.)
Kusakabe stares.
You have turned his rejection into exercise.
He hates you.
He runs.
You chase.
But something changes after the food.
You keep him alive.
When he trips, you yank him up before hyenas reach him.
When he takes the wrong path, you throw a rock near his foot to redirect him away from a snake pit.
When he collapses from thirst, you roll him into the shade and dump water into his mouth until he coughs.
When a rival hunter tries to grab him, you appear from behind and bonk the man into a tree.
Kusakabe watches from the ground, panting.
The rival hunter slides down the trunk.
You dust your hands.
Turn to Kusakabe and smile. (Mate safe.)
Kusakabe’s heart does the stupid thing again.
He looks away and grunts. (I did not ask.)
You shrug. (Safe anyway.)
How dare you be terrifying and competent.
How dare you chase him to the ends of the earth and bring meat.
The final escape happens at sunset.
Kusakabe finds a narrow canyon.
Perfect.
One path in.
One path out.
Loose rocks overhead.
If he moves fast enough, he can slip through, knock down stones, block the way, and finally lose you.
He almost respects himself for thinking of it.
He runs into the canyon.
You follow.
He sprints.
You laugh behind him.
He reaches the loose rock wall.
Grabs a branch.
Pulls.
Rocks tumble.
The path collapses behind him.
Kusakabe staggers forward.
Free.
Actually free.
He turns.
The canyon is blocked.
You are on the other side.
Hidden by dust.
Kusakabe breathes hard.
His chest rises.
Falls.
He waits.
No sound.
He steps closer.
Dust clears.
The rocks are bigger than he expected.
Too big.
Too much.
His stomach drops.
Grunts. (Woman?)
Silence.
Kusakabe’s mouth goes dry.
He scrambles to the rock pile.
Pulls at stones.
They barely move.
His fingers scrape.
Blood beads under his nails.
He pulls harder. (Woman?)
Nothing moves.
Panic hits.
Real panic.
Not mammoth panic.
Not mating panic.
Worse.
Because he caused this.
He buried you.
Because he wanted to run.
Because he kept running.
Kusakabe digs.
Hard.
Furious.
A stone cuts his palm.
He keeps going.
Then he hears it.
A grunt.
Muffled.
Irritated.
Kusakabe almost collapses.
He presses his face near a gap, grunts. (Alive?)
From behind the rocks, your voice comes. (Alive.)
His whole body loosens.
Then your grunt comes again. (Mate worried?)
Kusakabe freezes.
Even trapped under canyon rocks, you are smug.
He grits his teeth and grunts. (No.)
From behind the wall a laugh breaks. (Liar.)
Kusakabe exhales.
Then starts digging again.
This time, he does not stop.
By nightfall, the tribe finds him.
Nanami arrives with Toji and Sukuna.
Gojo arrives too, because drama smells better than food.
They see Kusakabe covered in dust, hands bleeding, moving stones one by one.
Nanami’s expression shifts.
Toji whistles low.
Sukuna grins.
Gojo gasps. (He digging for mate.)
Kusakabe snaps. (SHE IS NOT—)
A rock shifts.
Your hand pops through the gap and grabs his wrist.
Kusakabe shuts up.
The tribe goes silent.
You squeeze his wrist.
Warm.
Alive.
Kusakabe grips back.
Hard.
Sukuna looks delighted.
Gojo looks emotional.
Together, the men move the rocks.
It takes effort.
By the time they pull you free, you are scratched and dusty.
You step out.
Kusakabe reaches for you before he can stop himself.
Checks your face.
Your arms.
Your side.
You let him.
Your eyes stay fixed on him.
He realizes everyone is watching.
He drops his hands.
You tilt your head, grunt softly. (Mate worried.)
Kusakabe closes his eyes.
He cannot deny it anymore.
He could run from mammoth.
Run across valley.
Run to rival tribes.
Run until his feet split.
But the second you vanished under stone, he dug like a man losing his own lungs.
You step closer.
Kusakabe does not step back.
The tribe gasps.
Gojo grabs Nanami’s arm.
Nanami removes Gojo’s hand without looking.
You lift hand slowly.
Kusakabe tenses.
You cup his cheek.
His breath catches.
You grin. (Mate done running?)
Kusakabe looks at you.
Then at the tribe, waiting like vultures around a fresh corpse.
He sighs and grunts. (Mate stop chasing?)
You think.
Then shake your head.
Kusakabe’s eye twitches.
You grin wider. (Mate run. I chase. Good for legs.)
Gojo ruins the moment by laughing.
Kusakabe stares at you in horror.
Then you lean in and press your forehead to his.
His anger breaks under the contact.
You smell like dust, sweat, and the roasted meat you kept feeding him against his will.
Kusakabe mutters a tiny grunt. (Fine.)
Sukuna claps like a demon at a wedding.
Nanami sighs his most devastating sigh yet.
You beam.
Then reach for him.
Kusakabe stiffens.
Gojo inhales like he is about to ruin everything.
You grab Kusakabe’s wrist.
Then you turn his palm over.
His fingers are torn from digging.
Blood crusted under nails.
Skin scraped raw.
You stare.
Your smile drops.
Kusakabe’s stomach twists.
He knows that face.
That is the face mates make before inventing care.
Unnecessary.
Often wet.
You grunt. (Mate hands hurt.)
Kusakabe pulls back. (Hands fine.)
You grab his wrist again.
Stronger.
He stops.
You lick the dirt from his knuckles.
Kusakabe’s soul leaves his body through his ear.
The tribe screams.
Nanami closes his eyes.
Toji laughs so hard he has to sit down.
Sukuna looks impressed against his will.
Kusakabe yanks his hand back, red to his ears. (NO. NO MOUTH ON WOUND. DIRT. BAD.)
You blink.
Then nod.
This is good information.
Mate does not like mouth on wound.
Fine.
You will use better gift.
Kusakabe sees thought enter your eyes.
His blood chills.
He grunts. (Do not.)
You look up. (Do what?)
He points at your face. (That.)
You smile.
Kusakabe whispers a tiny death-noise.
By morning, you are gone.
Kusakabe wakes alone by the cold fire, wrapped in one of your furs.
Free.
He can leave.
Return to his small cave.
Smear mud over himself and pretend none of this happened.
He sits up.
Looks at the empty sleeping spot.
Sniffs.
Your scent is there.
Warm.
Dusty.
Meat-smoke.
Kusakabe stares at the fur.
Then slowly pulls it tighter around his shoulders.
Disgusting.
He is disgusting now.
Outside, Gojo peeks around a rock.
Kusakabe throws a pebble at him.
Gojo dodges, thrilled. (Mate sad?)
Kusakabe bares teeth. (Die.)
Gojo gasps with delight. (Mate sad.)
Kusakabe stands up to commit murder.
Gojo runs.
Across camp, you are committing science.
Prehistoric sticky science.
You crouch beside a flat warm stone near the fire pit with crushed sweet berries, honeycomb stolen from a very angry tree, thick sap scraped from bark, and a peeled twig.
Shoko watches from a safe distance.
Taking mental notes for future crimes.
You mash berries with a stone, drown them in stolen honey, then ruin the whole thing with too much sap.
The mixture clings to your fingers in red-gold strings.
You sniff.
Sweet.
Good.
You roll the sticky mash between your palms.
It sticks to both hands.
You growl.
Shoko snorts.
You glare.
She grunts. (Wet hands.)
You wet your hands.
The sticky ball behaves.
You press it around the peeled twig.
It slumps.
You add crushed nuts.
It holds.
Ugly.
Lumpy.
Shining.
A berry-honey lump on a stick.
The first lollipop is born.
It looks like a small animal organ.
You are proud.
Shoko leans closer, sniffs, and grunts. (Will kill?)
You frown.
Important question.
You look around.
A lizard sits on a rock.
You hold the sweet stick near it.
The lizard licks.
You wait.
It lives.
Runs away.
Good.
Mating gift safe. (Probably.)
You beam.
Meanwhile, Kusakabe is also suffering.
Because you like those thorn berries.
The dark ones near the west slope.
The ones guarded by cruel bushes with hooked thorns and small birds that scream when touched.
You like them.
He knows because you ate them during the mammoth disaster.
Because apparently Kusakabe remembers things now.
Disgusting.
So he goes to get them, secretly.
With dignity.
The thorn bush immediately tears his wrist.
Kusakabe hisses. (Evil plant.)
The plant does not care.
He reaches again.
Another thorn catches his hair.
He freezes.
A bird screams at him.
Kusakabe whispers. (I respect your home. I only need berries.)
The bird screams louder.
Kusakabe backs away.
Fine.
New plan.
A smarter plan.
He finds Naoya near the river, polishing a bone ornament and looking like he personally owns sunlight.
Naoya is lean, clean, sharp-eyed.
Too well-kept for a man who lives near mud.
He sees Kusakabe and immediately looks bored.
Kusakabe points toward the slope. (Naoya.)
Naoya does not move.
Kusakabe tries again. (Big berries there.)
Naoya’s eyes flick.
Kusakabe keeps his face blank.
Then, very carefully, he grunts. (Too high for most men.)
Naoya’s head turns.
There.
Hook in flesh.
Kusakabe adds, softer. (Thorns too sharp. Only strong hands maybe.)
Naoya’s mouth curls.
Smug.
He stands.
Straightens his ornaments and grunts. (Move. Useless older man.)
Kusakabe moves.
Naoya walks to the thorn bush like he has never been humbled by plant life.
Kusakabe follows at a safe distance.
Very safe.
Naoya reaches into the bush.
The bush eats him.
Thorns hook his arms.
His hair.
His fine fur.
His polished bone necklace.
Naoya goes still.
Kusakabe stares.
The bird screams.
Naoya’s eye twitches.
He grunts through his teeth. (Pull me out.)
Kusakabe tilts his head. (What?)
Naoya snarls. (Pull. Me. Out.)
Kusakabe looks around.
No one nearby.
Excellent.
He slowly steps forward and begins picking berries from the branches Naoya is trapped under.
Naoya stares at him.
Kusakabe drops berries into his pouch.
Naoya’s face darkens.
Kusakabe works faster.
Naoya grunts low. (You will die.)
Kusakabe nods. (After berries.)
Naoya lunges.
The thorns tighten.
He yelps.
Kusakabe has never felt so alive.
By the time he frees Naoya, the pouch is full.
Naoya is scratched.
His ornament is crooked.
A twig sticks out of his hair.
He looks betrayed by nature.
Kusakabe pats his shoulder.
A terrible mistake.
Naoya goes silent.
Kusakabe runs the fastest he has run since yesterday.
Naoya chases him for three body lengths, trips on a root, and hits the ground with a sound that humiliates the ancestors.
Kusakabe does not look back.
He is courting now.
Apparently this requires theft, manipulation, and cardio.
He hates it.
By sunset, you return to the edge of camp with your ugly sweet stick.
Kusakabe returns from the opposite side with scratched arms, a full berry pouch, and flowers tucked under one elbow.
The flowers are black, purple, and white.
Too pretty.
Too arranged.
Clearly stolen.
Suguru’s cult notices first.
A gasp ripples through the bone circle.
Suguru turns slowly.
His eyes land on Kusakabe’s stolen flowers.
His face empties.
Kusakabe freezes.
Suguru grunts. (Those shrine flowers.)
Kusakabe grips the bouquet.
Looks at you.
Looks at Suguru.
Calculates distance.
Escape paths.
Funeral probability.
Then he lifts the berries and flowers toward you.
You stare.
Your eyes widen.
Kusakabe looks away immediately. (For mate.)
The tribe goes silent.
A bird screams in the distance.
Naoya limps into camp behind him, covered in scratches, murder in his eyes.
He points at Kusakabe. (THIEF. COWARD. BUSH DEMON.)
Kusakabe does not react.
He is busy dying of embarrassment.
You take the berries and the flowers.
You sniff them.
Suguru’s cult whimpers.
Suguru’s feral mate, crouched beside him, grins with berry juice on her chin. (Good steal.)
Suguru closes his eyes like a priest losing funding.
You press the flowers to your chest.
Then shove your gift at Kusakabe.
The sticky lump wobbles on its twig.
Kusakabe stares.
It is red.
Gold.
Sticky.
Possibly alive.
He squints. (What this?)
You puff up. (Sweet stick.)
Kusakabe blinks.
You hold it closer. (For mate hands. No bite dirt. Eat sweet.)
He looks at your fingers.
Sticky.
Scraped.
Burned a little from warm stone.
You made this.
For him.
Because his hands hurt.
Because he dug you out.
Because he said no mouth on wound and you listened.
Kusakabe’s chest does the stupid thing again.
Worse this time.
He takes the sweet stick.
Carefully.
Sniffs.
Honey.
Berry.
Smoke.
Sap.
You.
He licks it once.
Kusakabe freezes.
Sweet.
Too sweet.
Sticky enough to trap his tongue.
Damn it.
He licks again.
Your whole face lights up.
Gojo clutches Nanami’s arm. (He like.)
Nanami removes Gojo’s hand.
Toji grins. (Atsuya got fed like baby.)
Kusakabe points the sweet stick at him. (I will put this in your eye.)
Sukuna laughs.
Naoya, still picking thorns from his arm, snarls. (That berry belongs to my blood effort.)
You grunt. (Good bush helper.)
Naoya’s face goes blank.
A total collapse of rank.
Kusakabe almost smiles.
Then you take one berry from the pouch and eat it.
You are happy with his berry in your mouth and your flowers against your chest.
Kusakabe looks away too late.
You step closer.
He does not step back.
You lift one berry to his mouth.
Kusakabe glares.
You wait.
Naoya bleeds quietly in the background.
Kusakabe opens his mouth.
You feed him.
He chews.
Tart.
Sharp.
Sweet after.
He hates that you know he likes it.
You grin. (Mate likes.)
Kusakabe grunts. (Sweet stick acceptable.)
You lean closer. (Berries acceptable?)
He looks at the pouch.
At the tribe watching like vultures with no shame.
Then at you.
He holds up the sweet stick.
You hold up the berries.
You bump them together like weapons before a hunt.
A mating courtship.
Apparently.
Kusakabe grunts. (Fine.)
You grin. (Mate.)
He looks away, licking honey from the stick before it drips onto his hand.
Softly, with the smallest surviving shred of dignity, he grunts back. (Mate.)
Gojo screams.
Nanami sighs.
Toji wins three furs from Sukuna.
Sukuna denies ever betting.
Suguru begins rebuilding his shrine with visibly worse flowers.
Naoya sits in the dirt, bleeding, furious, and defeated by fruit.
Higuruma starts carving a law about berry-based exploitation.
Choso asks if anyone wants advice.
Everyone ignores him.
And Kusakabe stands beside you.
Sticky-mouthed.
Scratched.
Chosen.
Still technically free.
He could run.
He takes another lick instead.
Damn it.
You trapped Atsuya with sugar lollipop invention.
A/N: Reader loved him to the point of invention.
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