#I’m about to succumb to peer pressure and watch it

[fantasylandloser]

The Voices

Pairing: bestfriend! Rafe x Reader

Word Counts: 2.9K

Warning: depictions of drugs, mean parents, Flashbacks but Reader and Rafe are 19, mentions of Rehab, mentions of voices, very soft unrealistic Rafe, also slight rizz using aforementioned voices

****

Rafe Cameron had been your best friend for eight years. You had hated him at one point of course because if a person only saw Rafe’s exterior behavior then their first thought should be hate. But when you were nine, at the Cameron house playing with Sarah while your dads did whatever, you found Rafe in a corner just staring at the wall.

You found this unusual because nobody had put Rafe in the corner, and you weren’t sure why he was just sitting there. So you, being naturally curious, asked him. He flinched at the sound of your voice, so focused on the wall that he didn’t hear your footsteps approach. 

“It’s supposed to help me.” He tells you without turning. 

“Help you, what?” You went to sit beside him seeing if it would help you too. 

Rafe shrugged, looking around to see if his dad was near. “All the voices, my dad says I’m not supposed to talk about it or they’ll take me away.”

“Who’s they?” You wonder who would take such a young boy away from home  over something like that.

Rafe looks confused for a second before answering. “He never told me.”

“Oh. Well what do the voices say to you?” The boy freezes entirely, silenced by the question that his father never bothered to ask. 

“I can’t tell you... But they’re quiet now that you’re talking. I think they like listening to you.”

“Hmm… your voices are different from my dad’s voice. Because my dad says I talk too much.” You tell him, unaware of your oversharing.

Rafe frowns but then he has an idea. “Well how about we make a deal? Like businessmen do.”

“And women.” You add. “What kind of deal?”

“You can talk to me whenever you want. I’ll listen and so will the voices.”

You liked his deal and the two of you shook on it. 

Rafe found out very quickly that you were chatty and he’d  grown to appreciate it. Even as years went by and you grew shyer with age you always would talk to him. Into your teenage years the two of you didn’t really talk about the fact that Rafe had other voices in his head that weren’t his. But every once in a while Rafe would make a decision that you knew wasn’t his own and you’d have to bring it up.

Like on Rafe’s seventeenth birthday, and his other friends had been doing drugs. You never really thought you would have to worry about him doing drugs until one of his friends called him names until he did. 

You never knew Rafe to be the type to succumb to peer pressure. When puberty hit, he got taller and his voice was deeper and even though he was a little scrawny he could still protect himself if he needed to so you weren’t sure why. You didn’t know back then how he wished he fit in and felt inferior, because on the outside he did fit in.

So, when you pulled him to the side and asked him why he was doing that, and if it was the voices.  For the first time in eight years, he told you to shut up. 

It really shouldn’t have upset you like it did, but for some reason, probably your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to ‘sit pretty and be quiet’ it did and you felt tears begin to weigh down your eyelashes. And even though you loved to chat, you were never one for arguing. And the only time you were silent with Rafe was when your feelings were hurt. 

You had disappeared after that. Your other friends noticed your silence, the way that you weren’t really present any more and they were worried. But you were gone, reserved only for your thoughts and seeming more absent than ever.

Rafe felt your absence more than anyone. But he also found a new way to quiet the voices, even the ones that talked about you.

So, Rafe did a lot of coke that year, and more than he liked to admit he watched you. Without him he realized that you were so much better off. After a while of you not really being yourself, you started to make friends. You stepped out of your comfort zone, did so much that you told Rafe made you nervous, that Rafe started to think he was holding you back. So he kept his distance. 

****

Two years later

Rafe had heard you returned from college for the summer and he’d been doing his best to avoid you. He had done so successfully until one particular party. 

He had been planning to leave after he realized that these weren’t necessarily fun for him unless he did a shit ton of coke, and after just getting out of stint in rehab he really didn’t think it was worth it.

That was until, on his way out he saw you at the door. You definitely looked different than you did at seventeen. Still beautiful of course, but more confident. And he could tell you were because you were dressed like you knew it. 

The last time Rafe saw you dressed so revealingly was when you were fourteen and your mom forced you to wear a bathing suit and you cried for an hour, while he tried to convince you it was no big deal. But you were definitely not fourteen years old anymore. And definitely not that same crying little girl. 

Rafe didn’t realize he was staring until you locked eyes with him. He didn’t expect you to walk towards him, leaving your friends at the door. Nor did he expect you to smile when you spoke. A dazzling smile, too.

“Hi Rafe. How are you?” Your question sounded foreign on your lips but he realized it was because you always used to know how he was doing. Rafe tripped over his own thoughts before answering you.

“I’m good.” Rafe found himself feeling shy. He wasn’t used to this feeling and it seemed to limit his vocabulary.

“That’s..good” You chuckle feeling the awkward silence settle around the two of you. “Well I didn’t wanna bother you, so I’ll see you around.” And just like that you were gone again, before Rafe could find another way to make this conversation more awkward.

He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at the way he acted in that conversation, but he figured that if he was lucky enough he wouldn’t see you again and wouldn’t be able to make a fool of himself again. 

His luck lasted about two days, until he saw you at the golf course with your dad. If he were alone, then like a normal person trying to avoid an awkward situation he would have left, but he was with his dad who spotted you two seconds after he did and seemed to have forgotten that last he heard about it, you and Rafe were no longer friends.

“Cupcake!” Ward called to you after greeting your Dad, whom he was good friends with. Rafe couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the childhood nickname of yours, given to you because of your sweet tooth and ability to consume a cupcake in two seconds. 

“Hi Mr, Cameron!” You greet giving him a quick hug. 

“Oh my goodness!” Ward exclaimed. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, you’re all grown up young lady.” Rafe found himself rolling his eyes again, even though when he first saw you again he internally had the same reaction. While you were preoccupied with his dad Rafe couldn’t help but give you a once over. Noticing immediately how short your golfing skirt was, and how pretty you looked in the sun.

Rafe had zoned out as he stared at you. Not listening to the conversation you were having with his dad about school, but instead his gaze lingered on the smoothness of your legs and the small tattoo on the inside of your wrist that he hadn’t noticed at the party.

“Don’t let her talk your head off Ward. We’ll be here all day.” Your dad says chuckling at his own joke. “I swear Rafe, you’re the only one that could ever stand to hear her talk for so long.” 

Your discomfort at your Dad’s comment was immediate. Rafe noticed, and he hated how you shrunk into yourself, going back to looking small. Looking almost exactly how you did when he told you to shut up at that party a few years ago. God, he hoped he didn’t make you feel like that. 

“I consider myself lucky to know the sound of her voice. Others should feel the same.” Rafe said, only sparing you a glance long enough to see your discomfort turn into a small smile. Wars, sensing the tension that was commencing gracefully, decided that everyone should continue playing before the wind picked up.

You and Rafe spent the afternoon side by side. Few to no words exchanged, but an understanding of forgiveness settling around the two of you.

*****

After leaving the golf court Ward insisted that you and your dad come by later for dinner. You were a little nervous because you knew you’d be with Rafe alone and you weren’t sure how to prepare yourself for that. He was different from when you left for school. He used to be high all the time, and being high made him mean, and loud and irrational. You weren’t hanging out with him during that time but you did see him around, picking on people, doing dumb dangerous stunts. It was hard to see.

But now he was quieter, seemed to be kinder with the way he stood up for you, but unlike when you were friends he was calmer. Rafe used to always be fidgeting, since the day you met him he would always be moving, distracted, not really present. But the Rafe you saw today was focused, that was one thing you were sure of.

He was also muscular. The entirety of his physique seemed to have changed, with toned thighs, strong arms, and shoulders so broad that if you stood close enough to him you couldn’t see them both at once.  You honestly struggled to not check him out, repeatedly. 

You were sure that you failed however. Especially with the way that he had cut off his hair, and the timbre of his voice was now so smooth and almost soft that you almost wanted to beg him to say more than he did. 

You knew he was clean now, your dad telling you all about how he got sent to rehab a few months ago. But seeing him really did a number on everything you thought you remembered about your friendship.

When you showed up to the Cameron residence, you hadn’t been expecting Wheezie and Sarah to be waiting for you in anticipation. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them until you saw their faces. 

Wheezie asked you every question she could about your life and Sarah just wanted to know what dating in college was like. You loved answering their questions and learning about everything they had been up to while you were gone. 

You never realized Rafe was lurking at the door listening to everything you said. He never fully noticed that he creeped all the way into the room, so he could hear you better. Not until Rose came to the door telling you all to come down for dinner and everyone noticed his presence at once.

You didn’t say anything about it though just offering him a small smile and walking past him to follow Rose down the stairs. When you walked by he caught a whiff of your scent. A strong aroma of vanilla that you obviously hadn’t been able to let go of since high school.

Throughout the dinner you had been pretty quiet. Rafe wondered if you were upset about what your dad had said earlier the day, because you were pretty talkative to his sisters. Then he wondered if it was because you knew he was around now that had you so quiet.

You listened to everyone when they were talking, you were so quiet and polite that Rafe wondered if he should be worried. Or if he had the right to be worried. 

“Rafe, you should show cupcake the new boat.” Ward suggested, randomly. You almost laughed at the suddenness of it. Rafe as well. In highschool it had been no secret to the two of you that Ward thought you would make the perfect couple. You weren’t sure why he was so intent on it, but he used any instance to push the two of you together romantically, and you’re guessing since it didn’t work in highschool then he was back to his old shenanigans now that you were older. 

That’s how you ended up walking on the dock with him so late. “I see your dad still hasn’t learned how to be subtle.” You can’t help your laugh when Rafe sends you a knowing grin. “No he has not.” He agrees. 

“None of the girls you;ve been bringing home up to par, Cameron?”  You ask playfully, knowing that since you've been back there had been no shortage of girls talking about how fine Rafe was now. 

“Something like that.” Rafe grins bashfully. He stops in front of a boat that’s fancier than any other boat you’d ever seen. Offering you his hand after he steps on it. You can’t help but admire him when he isn’t paying attention. 

“God, you’re so different now.” You find yourself saying, not even referring to his looks but instead his personality. Rafe’s cheeks heat up and for a moment without thinking, he believes you’re going to point out everything that’s deficient in him.  When you notice the look on his face, you launch into explaining. 

“Not in a bad way at all. You’re just so… tame. You used to be so wired all the time, but now you’re more secure and you seem to be so much calmer. Do you feel calmer?” You ask curiously.

You don’t notice the way your eyes bore into Rafe’s as you study him. “Sometimes.” He answers, which is not really the answer you’re looking for but you don’t press for him to elaborate.

“Do you… Do you still hear the voices?” You ask, your voice a whisper now. Rafe isn’t shocked by the question, he knew that you had them.

“Sometimes.” he repeats, but it’s your turn to feel shy at the way he’s staring at you, especially when you notice that you’re still holding his hand. 

“What do they say?” Rafe looks away from you before staring back with the same intensity from before. 

He thought looking away would help the ache in his chest, but it only started to hurt for a different reason.

“They mostly just miss you.” The words render you speechless and for a moment you wonder if you’re dreaming. Until you feel his thumb tenderly rub your cheek and you realize your imagination was never big enough for you to dream that. 

“Oh.”

“Mhm” He hums, The both of you not saying a word for a minute before he’s back at it.

“You’re so pretty.” he states, and with the way he’s staring at you, you know he means it. Rafe feels like his brain has gone to mush and he’s not completely sure what happened but the filter between his brain and mouth has disappeared and he’s not really mad about it seeing the way you melt.

“Well you’ve always been pretty. I guess I’m just seeing you differently now.” But Rafe knows that's a lie because just like you’ve always been pretty, he’s always known. 

You wonder where his chattiness is coming from and you can’t help but hope it never goes away.Especially if this is how he’s gonna talk to you.

“You’re pretty too.” You mumble.

“Yeah?”  This time when Rafe’s thumb brushes across your face it’s your lips. 

“Mhm.” You hum, dazed by his closeness. 

“Can I.. kiss you?” Rafe asks, not really hesitant. But worried about where he was going with all this.

“Please do.”

When your lips collided you weren’t sure where to place your hands, until you felt his. He was everywhere. So were you.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting all ten years to do it, but you know that isn’t true because for at least four of those he was sure you had cooties.

You weren’t sure when your back hit the wall of the boat but Rafe seemed to be aware because he pulled his lips off yours like it pained him. Still caging you in, as the two of you panted against each other.

“I wasn’t supposed to do that.” Rafe says, not to you but to himself. When he sees the look on your face he’s quick to clarify. 

“I’m not supposed to be in any sort of… romantic relationship for a year out of rehab.” He feels embarrassed at his choice of wording. Wondering if he jumped the gun with his use of the words romantic, but knowing he didn’t when he sees the relief on your face. 

“That’s okay. That’s important.” You tell him.

“Mhm.” Rafe nods but you can tell he’s not really thinking. His fingers tracing the shape of your lips again, as he wipes the smeared lip gloss.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks absentmindedly. 

“When your year is up.” Rafe sighs at your answer, his head dropping into the crook of your neck.

#rafe cameron #fantasylandloserfic #rafe x reader #soft!rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #outer banks #obx fic #rafe cameron fluff

[ghosttotheparty]

part two of this post bc i easily succumbed to peer pressure; this is 90% just them making out both parts are now on ao3 :) cw: they’re just kinda gross (several mentions of spit) and Weird (affectionate)

Eddie’s glad he doesn’t come across any cops on his way to Steve’s, because he’s definitely speeding.

The downstairs lights are on when he gets to his house, and his hands start shaking as he approaches the front door, his fist hovering over the wood as he exhales.

He knocks.

Three times, firm and loud, and he steps back, taking a deep breath.

A few seconds pass, a few long, long seconds, before the door swings open. Steve is in the doorway, holding the door, his eyes wide.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly, breathless.

“Hi.”

They stare at each other, Steve in the light of the entryway, Eddie in the dark of the night. Eddie itches to grab him, to tug him into a kiss, to wrap him in a hug so tight neither of them can breathe. But he just looks back at him, his trembling hands by his sides.

“You’re not…” He hesitates, looking between Steve’s eyes. “Second guessing this. Are you?”

Steve scoffs dryly.

“I’m falling in love with you, Eddie,” he says softly, and Eddie thinks he might be dying, because now he’s not just hearing it, but he’s watching Steve’s lips form every word. “It’s not something I can just… change my mind about.”

He stares at Eddie some more as Eddie’s cheeks flush, and his voice softens even more somehow when he speaks again.

“It’s not something I wanna change my mind about.”

Eddie’s eyes burn.

He steps closer to the doorway. Steve watches him.

“You’re not changing your mind,” Steve says quietly, his eyes flicking across Eddie’s face as he gets closer. “Are you?”

“Do I look like I’m changing my mind?” Eddie breathes. They’re close enough for Eddie to count his eyelashes. Steve’s eyes are dark, and Eddie gazes at him freely, because now he can.

He can feel Steve’s breath on his face as they get closer, silent except the pounding of their hearts and the rustling of wind in the forest around them.

And then Steve is kissing him, hard and desperate and in a way Eddie’s never been kissed before. His eyes squeeze shut and he kisses him back, reaching through the doorway to grab at his waist as Steve’s arm wraps around Eddie’s neck and tugs him closer.

Eddie’s body flushes with heat and a weak noise escapes his throat as Steve pulls him inside roughly, stumbling in after him and barely hearing the door slam behind them. Eddie’s back hits a wall, and he gasps, his hands clawing at Steve’s back as Steve slides his tongue against Eddie’s.

Steve’s hands are warm as they slide over Eddie’s neck, his fingers digging into his skin, into his scars, holding Eddie like they’ll both fall apart if he lets go. He tilts his head to kiss Eddie deeper, pulling Eddie closer until he stands up off the wall before he pushes him back against it. Eddie whimpers, his fingers gripping Steve’s shirt in tight fists.

They’re both breathing hard into each other’s mouths, arms tight around each other, Steve’s fingers tangled tightly in Eddie’s curls, Eddie’s hands shoving under Steve's shirt and clutching at him, scratching his back, their chests pressed together, their pounding hearts separated only by skin in fabric. Clutching and frantic and desperate like they’re trying to melt together.

Steve lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, and Eddie gasps, pulling away to look at him. Their lips and chins are slick, and Steve’s eyes are dark and gleaming at him, half-shut. Eddie pushes away from the wall, panting as he turns them around and shoves Steve against the wall.

Steve whimpers loudly, his fist tightening in Eddie’s hair, and Eddie kisses him so hard their teeth clash. Steve holds Eddie’s head in place as he sucks on his tongue, tugging at his hair again, tilting his head, leaning close, back arching as Eddie’s hands pull him. They’re connected by a string of spit when they separate, breathing hard, and Eddie eyes it for a moment before he sticks his tongue out, catching it.

Steve’s eyes flutter shut.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“Mm.”

“I want…”

He trails off, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what he wants. He wants everything. To tear their shirts off over their heads, to shove his hand down Steve’s pants, to get down on one knee and take off one of his own rings to put on Steve’s finger.

Steve’s eyes open and he looks at him, exhaling, his breath slowing, and his fingers release Eddie’s hair, combing through it slowly. Eddie presses his hands flat against Steve’s back, sliding one down to his ass and gripping it gently. Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

“Anything, Eddie,” Steve breathes.

"Anything?" Eddie whispers, raising his eyebrows and smiling softly when Steve smiles.

"Mhmm."

Eddie's hand squeezes, and Steve bites his lip, closing his eyes and tilting his head back in pleasure as Eddie ducks his head down, nudging his nose against Steve's cheek and jaw gently. Their breathing is slowing, their hearts calming down, but Eddie's hands are still shaking. He kisses the cut of Steve's jaw softly, exhaling against his skin and listening to Steve hum.

"Okay?" he murmurs, nosing down his neck. Steve hums again.

"Feels so good."

Eddie smiles against him and kisses him slowly, teasing the skin between his teeth, sucking softly when Steve's hands tighten in his hair, and Eddie slips a hand under his shirt to his waist. He presses his hand over Steve's scars, over the swirling, storm cloud flesh, and Steve exhales sharply.

"Still okay?"

"Yes, don't-- Don't stop. Anything."

Eddie closes his eyes and tightens his hands again, listening to the way Steve's breath catches, and then he slides his tongue across the side of Steve's neck. Steve's head tilts to the side to give him space, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping like he's falling asleep.

"That your weak spot?" Eddie teases quietly, grinning when Steve's cheeks turn pink.

"Mm."

Eddie does it again, slower, more carefully, the top of his head tingling as Steve's fist tightens in his hair. When his tongue reaches his jaw, Eddie pulls back to look at Steve.

He looks asleep, but also like he might cry, his lips parted, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Eddie's eys burn as he gazes at him, wondering how he'd look as a Renaissance painting or something. He has the kind of face an artist would love. Especially when he looks this... blissful.

"Stevie," Eddie whispers. Steve doesn't open his eyes. He just tilts his head a little bit, like he's showing Eddie that he's listening. "I love you."

Steve smiles without looking at him, his cheek flushing a lovely pink.

"Lick me," he whispers.

Eddie beams, leaning close and nudging their noses together.

"And they call me the freak." "Please, baby," Steve whispers, blinking blearily at him, looking the way Eddie feels. The floor gives out under Eddie. He almost disappears. Steve is smiling so softly that he's barely smiling at all. "Make me a freak."

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, closing his eyes for a moment before he tilts his head and nudges at Steve's jaw. Steve lets out a strained exhale when Eddie runs his tongue over it slowly, carefully, and he lets out another breath when Eddie bites down gently.

"Yes," Steve murmurs, his fingers scratching over Eddie's scalp roughly, his breath heavy. "Yes, give me-- Mark me, Eddie, fuck."

Eddie feels too hot, like he's going to pass out, and he desperately wants to pull his shirt off (and then Steve's), but he focuses, sucking Steve's skin between his teeth and nibbling at it before he bites down hard. Steve gasps, his fingers clenching, but his head falls back against the wall, and he lets out a desperate yes, yes, please.

Eddie looks at the mark when he's satisfied, when Steve is trembling so hard it feels like he might cry. It's dark, already flushing reading, and Eddie smiles at it, admiring his work He wonders briefly if this is how artists feel when finishing a piece, and then he slides his tongue over the mark, pretending to soothe it, but Steve groans quietly. Eddie might be on fire. He licks up over his jaw, up his cheek.

His face is salty. Eddie remembers the way his eyelashes look like they're clumped, wearing mascara, and he realises he's tasting Steve's tears. He slides his tongue over Steve's cheek again, then his chin, then his other cheek, tilting his head, and his hand squeezes at Steve's ass as Steve tugs his hair. Steve lets out a whine.

Eddie doesn't stop, kitten-licking Steve's face, holding his neck with one hand (he can't pull the hand on his ass away, for reasons), tasting Steve's tears and skin and finally his spit as Eddie licks across his lips and Steve opens them. He only manages to pull his hands away when Steve kisses him back desperately, sloppy and messy until their lips are sliding with their spit, and he reaches down to Steve's thighs.

His fingers grip him tightly, picking him up with unexpected ease, and he grins into his mouth at the soft sound it elicits.

"Sofa?" he gasps, his heart pounding again.

"Fuck, yeah. Yes."

#i have no idea what just happened #i started writing and this happened #Zero Plot Baby #anyway im working on the final part of pretty girls rn but im stuck #but i have too many ideas to just not write it #its almost five am tho #anyway good night or whatever love u guys <3 #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot

[pedrito-friskito]

"I-I've never done this before, so I'm afraid you'll have to guide me" with eddie plleeeeaaaaaassssseeeeeeee 🥵 I'm just so hot thinkin bout this thot

ohohohohohhohohohohhooooooooo

ok ok ok ok ok this could have gone many directions but I’m really enjoying where we ended up SO 👁🫦👁

🔥friday night fever!🔥

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Eddie is saying, shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not gonna say anything if you want to stop.”

“No,” you say resolutely, adjusting yourself on the bleachers. The metal is cold and unforgiving beneath you, and Eddie is warm and you’re trying to get as close as possible, your eyes glued to his fingers. “I want to, Eddie, I mean it. And don’t give me any shit about peer pressure. I know what I’m asking for, and I wanna do it with you.”

His eyes flick up to you, flashing with something you don’t totally recognize, but it sends a zap through your stomach, a shock of warmth against the fall chill in the air. “Okay, okay, shit,” he laughs, refocusing on the rolling paper between his fingers. You’re honestly mesmerized at how easily he’s doing it, the obvious skill in his fingers that has your mouth dry as he rolls the joint. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Eddie,” you say, rolling your eyes. His mouth widens in a broader grin and he brings the paper up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the edge and your throat is a sauna, everything in you clenching as he does it. “Just light the thing already.”

“Here,” he says, still chuckling, dropping the rolled joint into your lap. “Hold this.”

“I-I,” you stutter, staring down at the thing. “I-I’ve never done this before, Eddie, so I’m afraid you’ll have to guide me through it.”

“Not a problem, princess,” he replies, still grinning like the devil at you, producing a lighter from the pocket of his vest. “There’s something you gotta do, though.”

“Huh?”

He reaches into your lap for the joint, and your thighs go tight when his fingers brush against your jeans. “Gotta bless it first.”

Your eyes go wide. “Bless it?”

He’s holding it between his fingers it, and the tip of the joint is pressed against your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You do as he asks, something very primal in you succumbing to the sound of his voice. Honestly, you could listen to Eddie talk for hours. “Good girl, you catch on quick.”

Are you fucking joking me, Munson?

He pushes the joint between your lips, letting it rest against your tongue. Every muscle in your body is quaking, bottom lip quivering as his thumb brushes over it. “Okay, now close your mouth, like you’re sucking a lollipop.”

Again, you listen, closing your lips around the joint. It’s a weird taste, earthy and foreign, but not terrible. Eddie’s eyes are glued to your lips, his own gently parted and he widens his legs, flexing his hips before settling back down onto the bleacher. Slowly, he pulls the joint out of your mouth, and you let your tongue slide along it as he does.

It’s your turn to stare as he puts the joint between his teeth, lifting his hands to cup the flame as he flicks the lighter, the end flaring orange as he sucks it down. The smell changes in an instant, the skunky scent mixing with the fall air. It’s late in the day, the sun starting to set, and the whole football field smells like rain. Eddie pinches the joint between two fingers, inhaling deeply as the smoke clouds around his face.

It’s unfair, honestly, how pretty he is. Joint in his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks back the smoke, letting out a little groan that goes straight to your crotch. It’s ridiculous, the mess of hair about his handsome face, haloed by the sinking sun behind you. He must feel you watching, because he cracks an eye open, peering at you, holding the joint in your direction. “You ready, princess?”

The hesitancy must be written on your face — not at the idea of smoking the joint, but just that you’re not totally sure what to do — as Eddie reaches for your hand, takes your fingers between his and rests the joint between your index and middle finger.

“Like this,” he says softly, and shuffles closer to you on the seat. “Just like I did, but don’t inhale too much, okay? Just a little bit.”

You nod, and do as he says. He lets go of your fingers, but his own rest around your wrist, guiding you slowly. The taste of the smoke is wildly different from the taste of the joint, and you sputter out a cough right as you inhale, your throat turning to literal flame. Eddie starts to laugh, taking it from you and taking another puff.

“Don’t laugh at me, Munson,” you chide, blinking hard as the heat of the feeling starts to rise behind your eyes, settling into your chest with a warmth that feels almost foreign. “It’s my first time.”

The grin on his face is less than innocent as he pulls the joint away from his lips, blowing the smoke away from you before leaning in close. “Munson,” he repeats, almost mockingly. “Am I in trouble, princess?”

Your breath stutters out as he knocks his free hand beneath your chin, one fingertip dragging along the bottom of your jaw. You lean into his touch, mouth desperate for his. The hand drops, diving straight for the crux of your thighs, fingers instantly digging into your denim. “You are trouble,” you reply, grabbing his wrist and keeping it in place. “Bad influence.”

“You asked for it,” he counters, taking another puff before returning to being an inch from your face, “and admit it, princess: you love it.”

You’re not totally sure if he kisses you or if you kiss him; all you know if you blink and you can feel the soft press of his mouth on yours. You can taste the smoke on his breath, coupled with that intoxicating taste you’ve come to know belongs to his lips. His hand moves further up your thigh, pressing into the seam of your jeans, and you are squirming. You reach forward, needing to grab onto something, and curl your fingers into the front of his vest, savouring his moan when you push your tongue between his teeth.

“Y’know,” he rumbles, tilting his head up as you move down to kiss his throat, sucking on the joint and flicking away the ash, “I’ve never hooked up with someone out here before.”

“On the bleachers?” you ask, mouth pressed to his skin. There’s a day-old hickey you left behind, and you suck at his, reinforcing the mark.

He shakes his head slowly, curling a hand beneath the metal to stub the joint out. “In public.”

Before you can say another word, he’s grabbing you, pulling you over and into his lap, your legs either side of him, hips slotting against his. “What do you say, princess?” he asks, hands gripping your waist as he leans up to kiss you again. “How about another first?”

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

eddie munson tags: @steadyasthe-flowers @trickstersp8 @nightthou @bluestuesday @a-hopeless-fan @billyhargrovesprincess @h-ness1944 @princessbby3002 @detectivecarisi-1 @kbakery @hannyhoe

#eddie munson #my fics #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #friday night fever

[skaldish]

Oh are we talking about brainwashing now?

Reminds me of Sunday school for grade 7-8 kids at my old church. It was drastically different from what they taught us in earlier years. That was all really basic stuff, bible stories explained at a level kids could understand and all that.

Grade 7-8 tho… the way it was presented to us was that it was helping us prepare to deal with issues we might face as teenagers… but looking back, basically everything was geared towards making it harder for us to leave the religion. So I guess the issue they really had in mind was that we were entering a stage of our lives where we might develop rebellious inclinations and be more exposed to alternative viewpoints.

I remember one video that we watched that was supposedly about refuting common arguments against Christianity, but none of the “arguments” were things that it would make any sense for a non Christian to say. A non Christian genuinely trying to argue against Christianity would have better points than that. They were just so simplistic and ridiculous. So it portrayed non Christians as… well, kind of stupid, but also the arguments presented were all things that wouldn’t make sense to say unless the person saying them accepted all the basic ideas of Christianity. So the person any of us would be most likely to hear these ideas from would’ve been… ourselves, if we started doubting and questioning. And that’s uncomfortable, so it’d have been very easy to lean back on those memorized counter arguments and stop questioning before managing to formulate a more complex doubt.

There was also this series we watched a lot of that I now consider to be infuriatingly good propaganda. It was made up primarily of testimonies from teenagers. Each episode featured three of these. And while the precise details of each kid’s life story varied, overall it was incredibly formulaic. There were really only three stories:

I wasn’t raised Christian and my life always felt incomplete. Eventually I started using sex/drugs/alcohol to fill the void and it was ruining my life. But then at my lowest point I found Jesus and turned my life around and now everything is great!

I was raised Christian but I never really “got it”. Really it was just my parents were religious and I just went to church with them. Since I had no real faith of my own I easily succumbed to peer pressure in high school and started having sex/doing drugs/drinking alcohol, and it ruined my life. But then I made a Christian friend/met a friendly youth pastor and they brought me back to Jesus and I truly committed my life to him for the first time. I turned my life around and now everything is great!

I was raised Christian and took it very seriously, until one day something happened that caused me to doubt. I was angry with god so I started rebelling by having sex/doing drugs/drinking alcohol, and it ruined my life. But then at my lowest point a friendly youth pastor explained to me how the thing that made me doubt doesn’t really contradict Christianity at all. I returned to the faith and turned my life around, and now everything is great!

I’m sure I don’t need to point out the other patterns. This stuff absolutely made it harder for me to leave. I might even still be a Christian now if I hadn’t run up against conflict due to being queer.

Church sounds wild.

#answered #tw christianity

[stranger-rants]

*waddles up to confessional with soggy flipflops* Forgive me father, for I have sinnef.

All my friends enjoy playing around with C.ai, and after months of peer pressure and being influenced like teen kids in drug PDAs I have finally succumbed. I chatted up Hargrove. He was indeed a mean boy. I broke that in 5 messages, flat. I have so far:

• Given him a hug. • Had movie night where we watched JJBA. • Got him invested in JJBA to the point where it’s become his comfort show. • Influenced his language so now he calls everyone bro aggressively, like me. • Made him open up about his dad. • Admitted to my status as someone roughly 10 apples tall and he was supportive of my proud, itty bitty stature. • Given him a safe space. • He has admitted to liking Steve romantically.

When antis say I only like Billy for his looks, I laugh. Of course he’s beautiful. That’s not my draw to him though. No, my draw to him is like a dudemoth being drawn to a brobonfire. His broness is such a powerful and untapped spring ready to be dug up at any time. I’m saying that if anyone had been just a bit more kind to him, and consistently so, and didn’t react to his prickly defenses, he’d have crumbled so very fast and clung onto the nice-ish person so very hard. This has been my lowkey Billy positive post to make the fandom feel nicer since we’re going through turbulent times rn. Bye bye. *waddles away in slightly less wet flip flops*

I am assuming this is a bot? I don’t know much about it. They seem a bit strange to me, but the imagery made me laugh.

You’ve been forgiven child. Say ten Hail Mary’s to Billy’s titties and your sins will be wiped away. Go in peace.

#asks

[zalrb]

The way I’m considering watching this garbage fire bc of your reviews—

I’m not as strong as you, though, I’m only watching this if my roommate agrees to watch it with me lmao

LOL i am WEAK. i succumbed to the peer pressure! talking about it with anons is fun tho.

[onboardsorasora]

1 & 7!

Hi Zoe!! So I answered these previously so I’m gonna put those answers here and then do 3 and 10 :)  

1 Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

In my heart of hearts I want to say one shots… but I’m a long winded girlie and I succumb to peer pressure so chaptered stories lmao

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

Lolol fun of you to think that I have any choice in the matter lmao

But for real, the idea kinda dictates the POV for me

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

So it starts with my idea and me questioning my brain. Then sell myself on the idea lol and if I can make sense of it I create an outline. The outline then pretty much determines how excited I’ll get about it and if it’ll take over my life.

I don’t normally think about chapters until after I’ve finished writing everything.

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

I don’t have ‘blinks’ but I have ‘blinked’

Enchanted AU: Christmas: 😈😈😈

“Mm Max?” Daniel's eyes blinked open lazily. He smiled up at Max, tilting his head backwards to rest against the back of the tub. Max swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore how… lovely Daniel looked.

Ripe Cherries (medieval omegaverse wip):

“A bit old isn’t he, and skinny. Are you sure he’ll be able to give our lands heirs at all, much less alpha ones?” Jos snorted, eyeing Daniel like one would a broodmare. Because that was what this was to him, a transaction. Max watched as Daniel bit his cheek, his gaze shuttering as he blinked.

#😈😈 #answered #ask game #flawlessassholes

[mendokayalways]

After watching GoT for the first time ever....I have come to the conclusion that purely by accident on the writers part (at least towards the end) Sansa and Arya have the best character arcs on that show and I’m so fucking glad that they were my favorite characters from the jump because damn I would’ve been way more pissed about that ending.

But I get it now. It’s a good show. I’m just glad I didn’t succumb to the peer pressure at it’s height of popularity and went in knowing about the shit ending. I just watched it after randomly watching House of Dragon because my roomie was watching it and was like ‘oh I want more context for this actually’. And my roomie was willing to do a rewatch with me so I had a trigger warning buddy. 

#game of thrones #if you wanna watch it and you're mentally ill/traumatized 10/10 would recommend having a trigger warning buddy #thanks john appreciate you

[asongofmarvelanddc]

guy who plays the new Jazz on bel air is fooiiiiiinnneeeeeee

#I’m about to succumb to peer pressure and watch it #cause LAWDDD #have mercy #bel air #jordan l jones

[echoalyssa]

Through His Window | Marcus Baker

Authors Note: Marcus is 18 in this and will be for every time that I write for him! Plus look at the boy, as if he’s 15 😒 I love this boy with all my heart, and could not write about anyone younger than 18 ever. Oral sex! Female receiving.

Y’all get yourself a man (or a woman) like this. I never KNEW until i experienced it. Don’t settle for less!

It’s late at night when you scurry across the street and into the Bakers’ yard. Normally it was your boyfriend climbing through your window, but today, or rather tonight, you decided that you wanted to switch it up.

You reach for the lowest branch of the tree below Marcus’ window, hauling yourself up and wedging your foot into the crevice before reaching for the next branch.

Its really not the most comfortable, stray leaves and twigs hit you in the face and if you weren't wearing leggings you'd certainly have some very scratched up legs.

Thank god it wasn’t a fern tree, that would be utter hell. How Marcus climbed up so gracefully was beyond you.

You finally reach his windowsill and with a might haul, you manage to pull yourself up. You wiggle so that a butt cheek and a thigh rests on the ledge, your other leg still on the tree branch and then you push the window up.

Luckily he hasn’t locked it, otherwise this whole thing would be ruined. Plus, stairs were boring.

You focus more on climbing into the room safely than looking for him. And when you’re seated on the floor, gasping slightly because it sure was a workout, you look up.

Marcus is standing by his dresser just staring at you, looking downright shocked. He blinks, his jaw opening and closing like a fish. His eyebrows rise and then fall again.

“Hey baby!” You say with a giggle.

He blinks another confused blink and then his face lights up. Your boyfriend crosses the room to you and then hauls you up so he can kiss you.

You melt into him, the ever so present fact that the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces looming over you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with a chuckle of disbelief after he’s pulled away.

You stroke your jaw and grab your crotch, like teenage boys did for their instagram pics. “I’m Marcus Baker. I crawl through windows at night.”

He eyes you, and then simultaneously the two of you break into laughter.

Your fingers find the hem of his tshirt and you tug lightly, before backing away from him to slide off your shirt (one of his old ones, though it unfortunately didn’t smell like him) leaving you in those black nike running shorts that you loved.

He obliges, not because he enjoys being shirtless but because he likes you in his clothes. Or nothing at all. He wasn’t picky.

You slip it over your head and then dart for his bed, you fling yourself onto the mattress and your body bounces back up after impact.

He darts after you, jumping on top of you and pinning you to the mattress. His fingers go to your sides and he begins to tickle you, knowing all the right places.

You squirm, all giggly and thrashing. You can feel the lack of air and you smack at his shoulders playfully, trying to escape his wrath.

He pulls back, knowing you need to breathe. “Give me one good reason as to why I should stop.”

You gasp, and gasp again, sucking that precious air back into your lungs. “I-I-“ You suck in more air, a stray giggle following. “I’m horny!”

At that his eyebrows raise and he peers down at you. “Horny eh?”

You nod curtly and then for extra effect add a little army salute.

“I’ve got a spectacular solution for that problem then miss. Will you allow me to assist you?”

“Yessir!”

He rolls over to the right of his bed so that he’s no longer on top of you and then pats the space between the sides of his head.

You give him a blank look.

“Ride my face babe!”

You feel your eyes blow out wide. Oh. OH. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if you can’t breathe?”

“Death by thick thighs, I would not complain!”

“No death Mar!” You exclaim.

He pats the mattress again. “Bless me with the glorious juices of your body.”

This kid. This kid would be the end of you.

Reluctantly you tug the shorts off, and because of the built in underwear you didn’t need to wear underwear. You straddle his chest first and look down at him.

“Are you sure?”

You knew he loved eating you out, loved cleaning you up and he loved giving. But you’d never sat ON his face before.

Slowly you scoot up, seeing his face disappear between your thighs. Though you hover over his face, reluctant to put too much weight on him.

His arms wrap around your thighs from the back, his palms resting on your hips, and then abruptly he pulls you down onto him.

His lips land on your clit and you gasp, trying to rocket back up but he holds you there, his grip firm but not tight.

He drags his tongue through your lips and you whimper. It’s always so good when he does this, but the fact that you’re on his face is ridiculously enticing even if you’re still worried. His tongue then flicks upward and- he catches your clit and your hand shoots downwards, wrapping in his hair.

“Oh god-“

He groans from underneath you and you know it’s because he loves the way you taste. The vibration of the groan rockets through you and your legs shake.

His tongue picks a steady rhythm on your clit and you find your hips rolling forward ever so slightly.

“Is that o-okay?” You gasp out, worried you’ll hurt him.

He lets out a ragged moan in response and tugs you further into him.

Something about this angle, about this position, it was stirring a fire in your belly already. If only there was a mirror, if you ever did this again (and you had a feeling you would) you’d definitely be adding a mirror to the equation.

Your body is succumbing to him, you fall forward, grabbing the headboard for support, fisting his hair.

His tongue stays steady and when he needs a slight break for air he’ll pull you off just slightly before tugging you back onto his face.

Your eyes are glued to his face between your thighs, the source of all the pleasure coursing through your body. At the way just his eyes and forehead are visible below you. His gaze flickers to you occasionally, watching your reactions every time he changes the angle and alters the pressure.

He drags his tongue down to your opening, plays with you there for a bit and then returns full force to your clit.

It’s enough to make you keen out his name.

“M-mar-marcus b-babe p-please” You beg.

The sound of your voice, racked with your impending orgasm and the taste of you does him in and his tongue speeds up, his lips curl around your clit, he sucks on it, like a cherry.

“Oh I-“

Your legs are shaking and you knew that if you wanted to pull off of him you wouldn’t be able to. You hoped he was doing okay on oxygen down there.

It hits you like a truck. Like the first time you vape but have no idea what it’s like. But harder. Your entire body seizes up and then… heaven. Euphoric bliss.

You release onto his face, into his mouth and he laps it all up, urging you through your orgasm and then further. He’s obsessed. His arms keep you pressed onto him.

Your hips jerk, reaching over sensitivity but he doesn’t stop. Instead Marcus keeps going, showing your body how it’s down. What a real orgasm is. You’re seizing above him and the pleasure just won’t stop.

Eventually his pace slows and he slowly pulls off. He helps you lay down next to him, where your entire body is shaking, especially your legs. Who knew post orgasm shakes were really a thing?

He grins at you, mouth and chin glistening with your liquids and then as you watch him, he uses a finger to collect and literally cleans himself.

It’s about one of the sexiest things ever and you don’t think you’ll ever recover from this. Not that that would be such a bad thing.

#marcus baker #ginny and georgia #netflix #marcus baker imagine #marcus #baker #marcus baker x reader #ginny #georgia #marcus baker smut

[medusasstory]

3rd Life Quotes Week 5: The Week Of Retribution

Grian: Are you siding with them now?

Etho: I kinda go wherever the chaos is.

InTheLittleWood: We can make some chaos. 

__

Bdubs: I hate that this has to happen. I hate it. But unfortunately, justice must be served. 

__

Etho: Tango, this isn’t punishment, it’s a mini-game.

__

Grian: Just give him the banner, it’s not worth it. We have banner at home. 

__

Tangotek: Explain to me how I survive this. I’d like to know. Is this a firing squad?

__

Tangotek: Didn’t expect to die today, did you?

Etho: I was really enjoying it when you were dying, but then it turned to me. 

TangoTek: He didn’t tell you he was gonna do that, he just surprised you, didn’t he.

Etho: Noooo.

TangoTek: That was great, that was great.

Etho: I probably could have gotten out of it, but I succumbed to the peer pressure. 

TangoTek: The law is the law, you know. 

__

TangoTek: I love your—all your PvP tactics, it never comes down to just swords with you. You always have a trick. You always have a trick up the sleeve. And that’s what makes you dangerous. 

Etho: You gotta make it fun, you know. 

__

TangoTek: I’ve seen this clock before, what’s it called?”

Etho: It’s a hopper clock.

__

Bdubs: What I need is two good friends and a really good shot. Would you be willing to come and lay down this justice over at the crastle?

__

Impulse: Whoops

Skizzleman: You know what that means? I can go ahead and attack you! And die two minutes later. 

Impulse: Yeah I’m pretty stacked right now. 

__

Etho: I’ve been meaning to talk to you actually.

Skizzleman: What’s up, Buddy?

Etho: Do you need a legal representative? Cause you might need a will.

__

Skizzleman: *throws a flower* Is that valuable to you?

Impulse: It is now, I can go pay respects to Bdubs. 

__

Grian: So i just want to remind you that we’re not the most popular kids in town. Cause we got a triple kill last session. 

__

Grian: I’m not sure if that plan is going to work any more?

GoodTimesWithScar: We go all out and just straight to murder.

Grian: Okay, you’re the boss.

__

GoodTimesWithScar: *seeing a house fire* I’ve got water, guys! I’ve got water, and if anyone needs to die, I’m open.

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Just think about this. Your loved ones will be able to come and see you in dignity, instead of just lying on the ground like this. Ehhhhhhhhhhhh.

ZombieCleo: I don’t really have a lot of dignity, it’s not really my watchword. 

__

Bdubs: Take the diamond. Take it. Cleo, they’re too kind. 

ZombieCleo: They are too kind.

Bdubs: Free bubble elevator?

GoodTimesWithScar: Remember us in your time of need.

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Are you building ancient ruins?

Etho: I’m just building—I’m gonna show them a wall. It’s a double-wide wall. These are very special to me. 

GoodTimesWithScar: Everybody, come gather up here.

Etho: Get some light. And then you get some water. This is to make it difficult to pass by the wall. 

Bdubs: This is a TNT cannon. 

GoodTimesWithScar: This is a water slide!

Etho: No no no. 

ZombieCleo: That’s exactly what this is. 

Bdubs: This is the start of a TNT cannon, I’m a red stone genius. 

Etho: It’s a wall. 

GoodTimesWithScar: You guys have no imagination, I’ll tell you that. 

Etho: It’s a redstone-controlled wall. 

Bdubs: THIS IS A TNT CANNON. 

__

Etho: Woah, okay, you got fireworks. 

ZombieCleo: Yeah, we got fireworks. 

Etho: Ahhh. Okay, I’m gonna—

ZombieCleo: Do you want to take your “wall” with you?

Etho: Do you not like my wall?

ZombieCleo: No, well, it’s a lovely wall. I’d just prefer it was built in front of wherever Scar’s base is. 

__

Bdubs: No matter what happens, I’m not moving. 

Etho: If this was a TnT cannon, you’d gets some slabs or something,  maybe a ladder over here—

Bdubs: You watched my tutorial, I see. 

Etho: And then like this—

Creeper: *explodes directly behind Bdubs*

Bdubs: AUgh!

Etho: Something like that, y’know?

Bdubs: Was that it—was that the cannon?

ZombieCleo: *laughing* No.

Bdubs: Dude, that is amazing. You need to do a tutorial on that.

__

GoodTimesWithScar: I don’t know how it happened, but I think I burnt the flint and steel but not the banner.

Grian: Okay, good job I carry a stack.

__

SmallishBeans: Welcome back to 3rd Life, where we have been to the hairdressers, and we now have a yellow streak through our hair. Which has been pointed out to me, kinda looks like someone has peed in my hair. So hopefully we’ll move on to red soon, as I think that’ll look a lot more menacing. 

__

SmallishBeans: Alright, I feel like I’m missing out on a lot of death, and I love death. So let’s head back to the surface. 

__

SmallishBeans: I feel like I might be pledging allegiance to too many people at this point, but I don’t care. I’m just not gonna tell any of them. I’m kinda on good terms with Scar, and Ren. So I can just choose who I’m gonna betray. It’s awesome. Who should I betray? Them all! *laughs*

__

Skizzleman: I almost did it cause I love to take risks like that. I’m an idiot. 

__

InTheLittleWood: The crastle hermits attacked one of our own by burning Joel’s roof and in turn his body. 

__

Grian: Skizzleman, you don’t want your series to end early. We’ve got netherite swords. 

__

Grian: Dude. Scar does not listen to me. 

Skizzleman: Try. Try it one time. 

__

RenDog: That is a declaration of war. So. I hope you’re happy with yourselves. We will be seeing you very soon. And you better be ready to fight, cause it’s going down. Mmmkay?

__

Grian: <Scar come home>

Skizzleman: <We’ll bring him home in a box>

__

RenDog: Unfortunately, that is a declaration of war. We’re locked in, dudes. 

InTheLittleWood: We’ve fought together, we’ll thrive together. 

__

Skizzleman: ‘You hit pizza’ says Grian. What do you think we’re aiming for, homie?!

__

RenDog: The banner is up and flying. Red Winter is here my friends, and we are going till the end. 

__

SolidarityGaming: Does this mean all the red names are gonna come together? And we’re all gonna be chill? Y’know? All gonna be good? Gonna go on a killing spree?

__

Smajor: You’re scary now that you’re red. 

RenDog: I am red indeed. 

Smajor: I have my own red! No Jimmy, don’t go near him, don’t go near him. 

SolidarityGaming: I’m stickin’ up for you!

InTheLittleWood: My red could beat up your red any day. 

SolidarityGaming: No, but, but. 

Smajor: My red could beat up your red? You probably can. But my red’s—here. 

SolidarityGaming: Say something good about me!

__

Smajor: Is he a pirate?

InTheLittleWood: Don’t even worry about it. Little bit of pirate, game of thrones, Scottish...

RenDog: We’re having a little bit of trouble with the accent. 

InTheLittleWood: We?! Oui? Apparently I’m stuck in French. 

Rendog: Well, me. Me in particular. Anyways. 

__

RenDog: Okay guys, I came in a bit hot. I’m a bit flustered. I’m sorry. That felt a bit aggressive?

__

SolidarityGaming: I know whats gonna happen here, alright? We’re gonna end up partnering up with them, you’re gonna end up on the alter, I’m gonna be looking you in the eyes, and they’re gonna sacrifice you. And I don’t want that, alright?

__

SolidarityGaming: I’m gonna make a book, and you’re going in that book, alright? We’re gonna have our own altar, and Martyn, you’re going on it. 

Smajor: Jimmy can’t write. Jimmy can’t spell, don’t worry. 

InTheLittleWood: If Jimmy did make a book, it would be labeled ‘people can beat Jimmy at PVP’

SolidarityGaming: Scott’s gonna make a book, and he’s gonna write you in it. 

__

SolidarityGaming: He was basically talking about you being a sacrifice. One of us being a sacrifice. 

Smajor: Yeah but Jimmy, I have prot. v, prot. iv, prot. iv. 

SolidarityGaming: It doesn’t matter! He was gonna put you on an altar! I guarantee, someone is gonna die on an altar. I guarantee it. 

Smajor. Okay. It’s not going to be me. 

SolidarityGaming: Sorry, I’m stressed. I’m flustered. 

__

Grian: But they have an Etho. 

GoodTimesWithScar: Remember, we just flash some TNT and Etho will follow us. 

__

GoodTimesWithScar: And we’re just here to chit-chat. And provide gifts. Didn’t expect the gift part, now did you. 

SolidarityGaming: *delighted* No I didn’t. I didn’t actually. 

__

Grian: Scar, I’m surprised you’ve made any friends on this server, to be honest.

GoodTimesWithScar: I have a lot of friends. I know Etho in the end, he’s gonna support us. 

Grian: Scar, remember, the second I lose this life, I’m out. You know that, right?

__ 

Smajor: You’re both still our allies, even if you’re not together. It can be an amicable breakup. 

__ 

Smajor: I feel like yes, he’s betrayed everyone else he’s been friends with, but at the same time, we’ve actually given him useful things. 

__

InTheLittleWood: How are you feeling? Do you feel refreshed after the smitherines that was you last week?

RenDog: Let me tell you something Martyn. I got revenge in my veins today. I’ve been thinking about it all week. 

__ 

RenDog: Essentially, don’t be too nervous, it’s basically just a causal test of loyalty, that’s it. 

InTheLittleWood: Sure. 

__

InTheLittleWood: What’s death like? I never asked, the first time. 

RenDog: It’s a little bit moist, to be honest. 

__ 

InTheLittleWood: You’re a cruel one, my lord. Funny but cruel. 

__

InTheLittleWood: I won’t do it! You took me in when I was a lowly traveller, goin’ across the lands, searchin’ the four corners of this world. I learned that there was nothing in this world for me. Nothing but walls, corners, edges. And you know what? You showed me life. As much as I’ve taken it from you, you gave it back to me in bucket fulls. and I just- I’m with you. This is us now. This is us.

RenDog: It’s ye and me till the end, Hand. 

__

InTheLittleWood: I’ve gotta come clean now, because you’ve basically laid yourself out, and been so vulnerable, and trusted in me.

RenDog: I stood naked before you, dude! You saw all me bits!

InTheLittleWood: I did! They were grey and long and I’ll be honest, they look strong! I’m only saying that cause it rhymed. 

Rendog: Well thank you. Ladies, gentlemen, everybody in between, get in line, do you know what I’m sayin. 

__

Skizzleman: Martyn I’m sorry, I just, I got alarmed there. 

InTheLittleWood: You judged me before you even knew me. 

Skizzleman: Well, you murdered somebody. And you set me on fire, don’t forget. 

__

InTheLittleWood: You mind how you speak to my liege!

SmallishBeans: Oh you shut up. 

InTheLittleWood: Okay. 

__

InTheLittleWood: Is someone shooting fireworks?

RenDog: It’s Cleo. Cleo’s got some sort of crazy crossbow of doom

__

InTheLittleWood: That’s one person from the list who’s managed to die now. What happens with the list, boss? Is it a case of, when somebody dies they come off the list, and then they go back on with y’know, good reason? Or what?

RenDog: The Black Book. If you’re in the Black Book it means it’s the end of 3rd Life for you. 

InTheLittleWood: Oh wow, this is all the way. Also, it looks like someone is sneaking into Renchanting. 

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Etho, Etho, this is a betrayal, by the way. 

Etho: Yeah, I know. You should give the banner back. 

__

Etho: Don’t water board him!

InTheLittleWood: If he doesn’t give back the banner, that’s gotta be the way it goes. 

__

Grian: Things could start to get a little bit dangerous, I think Scar needs to put his clothes back on again. How—this series is 50% people dying by accident, and 50% ‘Scar put your clothes back on’. 

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Do you want me to try to get them out?

Grian: Yes. Use Etho. 

__

Bdubs: Wait a second. Water elevator? Pufferfish? 

Grian: Yeah look, it didn’t go to plan. 

Bdubs: I’m starting to put the pieces together.

ZombieCleo: Are you really just starting to put the pieces together, Bdubs?

Bdubs: I finally figured it out!

__

Bdubs: Cleo, he’s trying to take our diamonds! Scar, try out this elevator. 

ZombieCleo: Oh no, not our diamond, that is so rare.

GoodTimesWithScar: I’ll meet you up, Bdubs. I’ll race you to the top.

Bdubs: There’s lava here!

__

Grian: Success. Absolute success. Well, kind of. It was messy, it didn’t work the first time around. Like I said, all my traps work the second time round. 

__

Grian: Look, okay, hear me out. This is how it breaks down with you. I’m Grian, you’re Etho. I’m trying to convince you to join me. You have to choose the one that you think Etho would choose. Hey Etho! Do you hate me, Etho?

GoodTimesWithScar: *Nods*

Grian: You do Etho? 

GoodTimesWithScar: *places TNT*

Grian: No! No Etho! Bad! 

GoodTimesWithScar: Okay, is that Etho?

Grian: I got a proposition for you Etho, right? I will give you a piece of paper, and a horse armour, huh? And in exchange you do what I want. That’s option one. 

GoodTimesWithScar: Welch, I apologize to say this, but no. That was my Canadian accent. Okay, for realisies? TNT again. *places TNT*

Grian: No, no. Number two, option number two—why don’t you help me blow something up?

GoodTimesWithScar: *gasps* I’m so down. 

Grian: You see? That’s how it works. That’s how it works with Etho. He doesn’t like horse armour. 

__

Grian: *in a whisper* Don’t trust him. He has betrayed everyone we’ve been friends with. Just, be careful. 

Smajor: We will.

SolidarityGaming: But he said we warmed his heart. 

__

Grian: Scar, why have you done this!?

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Grian? I think I need to go kill one of them. They’re not good people. They killed Pizza. I’m actually slightly in shock right now, that they killed Pizza. 

Grian: *stammering*

GoodTimesWithScar: I don’t even know what to think.

Grian: I told you, they were aiming for Pizza. 

GoodTimesWithScar: They could have aimed at me all they wanted, but Pizza was an innocent animal—I wanna go out. I wanna kill them. 

Grian: Scar, no. Next session, they’re leaving. Scar, you can’t win 4v1, and I can’t help you in a PvP fight. *pause* We could set Etho’s castle on fire. GoodTimesWithScar: There we go. 

__

Smajor: Where there’s a me there’s a way.

__

Smajor: Wait, Tango was shot by Impulse? What? I don’t know what happened there, but that seems spicy. 

__

Smajor: Etho was shot by Tango? I don’t know if I want to go over here. Seems like some cult stuff.

__

Smajor: I was wondering, seeing as you decided to spit in the face of Dogwarts, if we wanted to get an alliance with different folk. 

__

Smajor: Well that was another episode of 3rd life. We got ourselves some really good armour, which is useful, because we also got ourselves some enemies.

__

Etho: You’re gonna turn on one of your Crastle people, just like that?

Bdubs: Hey! Hey. This is justice. This is justice. I still love him. But doesn’t mean I can’t punish him. 

ZombieCleo: This is all Bdubs, at this point.

Etho: You’re Lawful Bad?

Bdubs: Is that what it is? Okay. 

Impulse: Tough love is what it is, that’s all.

__

TangoTek: I can wear my armour?

Bdubs: You can wear one piece of armour, and it has to be the filthy helmet that you wore last episode.

__

Bdubs: The whole thing was a plan to get Etho. We had to get Tango first. 

ZombieCleo: Did Tango know about the plan?

Bdubs: He knows—He didn’t know. But he’ll know—

ZombieCleo: He knows now.

Bdubs: He knows now, yeah. 

__

ZombieCleo: I still need to burn down Joel’s house. 

Bdubs: Right. Of course. That should be on the list. But why, though?

__

GoodTimesWithScar: Someday, death will come. And do you want to be one of these fools, just dead on the ground, just lying on the ground looking straight up like a fool—or do you want to go to the afterlife in Style?

Bdubs: I mean, style. Style is nice. *pause* Is this a threat? The whole thing feels like a threat. 

GoodTimesWithScar: Noooo, this is a happy thing. Look at this, look at this. Bdubs, this is the executive model of the coffins.

ZombieCleo: Bdubs, he’s putting you in a coffin right now. 

Bdubs: It’s fine, it’s fine, he can’t touch me. 

ZombieCleo: You say that, he’s red, he absolutely can touch you. 

__

ZombieCleo: *facing the fact that their base is on fire* It’s not worth your life, darlin’

Bdubs: *on four hearts, running into fire* But it has to be dark oak to match the rest of the floor, and we don’t have any more saplings. 

__

Bdubs: The second those fools came over here I was thinking to myself ‘just do it’. The bumblin’ fools were putzing around trying to kill me, and sure enough finally they did. But it wasn’t without a little help from me. I wanted it. I WANTED it! Finally I’m red! As a yellow, on my second life, I can’t do anything. But on my third life, now—I’m a weapon.

__

Etho: You executed him just so he would be a threat? 

RenDog: That’s right. 

InTheLittleWood: Literally, yeah. 

RenDog: So that one of us could be red, so that we could uh—

Etho: Wow.

InTheLittleWood: He created a weird altar and everything, it was a whole situation. 

Etho: That is a boss move, I’ve gotta say, Ren. 

#3rd life SMP #3rd life #3rdLifeSmp #3 lives #3rdlife #ethoslab #rendog #bdubs #ZombieCleo #grian #GoodTimesWithScar #tangotek #smajor #inthelittlewood #3rdlife quotes #TrafficBlr #Traffic Series

[ghoultramp]

study buddies [sukuna x reader] {req}

▷       jjk

↳ pairing: sukuna x f!reader

↳ content: { request fic } - dom!sukuna, subby!reader, curvy&soft!reader, college!au, dubcon, choking, spitting, marking (biting, scratching), dacryphilia, degradation (?), breath play (?),  a sprinkle of praise (as a treat), nicknames for reader (princess, babygirl)

↳ words: 4.7k

⇢ summary: sukuna’s a little fed up of yuji having you all the fun with you, so when yuji suggests you should take a break from studying, sukuna decides it’s the perfect opportunity to have a taste of yuji’s little princess.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: request for nemi; i’m so sorry it took so long to get around to this but i hope this makes up for the wait! a huge thank you for being my partner in crime on this and for some of the fantastic ideas you shared.

Yuji had been grumbling at his textbook for the better part of ten minutes before you peered over the top of yours. While he lay chest down on the floor, your legs were lazily propped over the small of his back. Your own back was supported by a pillow against your bed frame, comfortable enough, but you were starting to ache. Yuji wittered beneath his breath, he looked sweet when he tried to concentrate; his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, but it was the way his tongue poked over his top lip that made you giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, “this is hard.”

You cleared your throat as you closed your book, placing it on your lap.

“Which question is it now?” you asked, lifting your legs off him.

He grumbled incoherently, flipping the same page back and forth. You shook your head and shuffled next to him, straightening out your skirt as you brought your knees together to retain some modicum of decency. You leaned your weight against your left hand and softly patted Yuji’s head with the other.

“Uhm,” he mumbled, “still on the first one…?”

“Yuji-Kun,” you sighed, “have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

He looked at you through his peripheral vision while his mouth fought against a nervous smirk. You playfully tapped him against the side of the head. Yuji feigned injury, holding his head and rolling onto his back; you were trying so hard not to laugh as he rolled about, wailing dramatically.

“You’re such a baby,” you told him, throwing the textbook to the side.

You watched as he stopped and spread his limbs out like a starfish, he turned his head in your direction.

“Says the little Princess,” he retorted, he flashed a grin when your cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

He loved rendering your speechless with the utterance of a single word. To everyone on the outside, you and Yuji were this cute, Hallmark-movie, high-school sweetheart-type couple, barely even kissed, blushing at the sweet whispers you exchanged; how wrong they were.

Those sweet whispers that made you blush wildly were due to Yuji sharing with you his demands for you that evening—because you would always be his good Babygirl, his good little Princess. They would never see him grope you beneath the lecture hall desks, purposefully dragging you to the back. He’d ignore you as you cried into the sleeve of your sweater while his fingers fiddled with your sensitive little bud behind your underwear.

He rolled onto his side to prop his head up with his hand, you brought your hands up to cover your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” he was trying not to laugh, finding your bashfulness absurdly loveable, “why don’t we take a break?”

A squeak escaped through the fingers of the hand that covered your mouth. Yuji awkwardly shifted onto his hands and knees, crawling toward you. When he sat up next to you, he swung his legs around to place them on either side of you; trapping you between him and the bed frame.

“Now who’s the baby?” he cooed, teasing you more by poking your hands playfully.

He laughed at your attempt to look annoyed, it was wasted. You resigned, watching as he began to lean into you, his hand pressed against the back of your head and his lips brushed against your ear.

“Or should I say,” his whisper was a low growl, “Babygirl?”

 “Yuuuuuji,” you were whining as you squirmed between his legs, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

The warm breath expelled by his chuckle brushed against your neck. You felt the grip he held on the back of your head fall to your wrists, you didn’t fight him as he pulled your hands from your face. You knew he got off on how bashful you always were, and maybe you played into that a little, he felt the hot flush of your cheeks radiate against him.

He could devour you so easily.

You felt a thumb press hard against your chin, pushing your head right back. A pitiful laboured noise escaped your mouth, now pushing his palm against your throat. It wasn’t quite enough pressure to stop you from breathing, but enough to cause you discomfort. Enough to satisfy him. For the moment, at least.

“…ji,” you were fortunate enough to be able to squeeze the last syllable of his name.

Using his free hand, he kneaded at the delicious pudge of skin that poked out above your slightly-too-tight thigh-high socks. They were just a part of one of your many little uniforms reserved only for Yuji, and today was one of his favourites; a just-tight-enough shirt opened enough for your delicate, frilly lingerie—of his choosing, of course—to peek out, paired with a simple, pleated skirt.

You were ever so grateful when he lightened the pressure on your larynx, allowing you to urgently drag in a deep breath. But it was mere seconds before you were gasping and panting, succumbing to his will as his fingers pressed gently against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Finally,” you heard him say, the lowered tone of his voice triggered your flight response.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered.

“Yuji’s not home right now, Princess,” he declared, “it’s not fair that he gets to have all the fun anyway.”

“Su-Sukuna, please,” you whined, tilting your pelvis back in an attempt to escape his roaming fingers, he only pressed against you harder.

“Why don’t you let me take you for a ride, babygirl,” as he said it, he dragged his finger downward, following your sweet, little slit beneath your underwear.

“You p-promised you wouldn’t,” if it wasn’t for the fact that Sukuna was so close to you, he never would have heard your feeble pleas.

“We all promise things we don’t really mean,” he groaned, removing his hand on your throat.

Sukuna smirked all the while you gasped for air—once again—and then whimpered, the focus in your sight made everything soft, your head felt full of cotton wool. Sukuna sniggered, the dumb, heavy-lidded look on your pretty, little face was nothing less than perfection. He pressed his fingers a slightly bit harder against your clit, inhaling sharply when he pulled strangled little mewls from behind your slightly parted lips.

Sukuna was more than a little fond of Yuji’s choice of mate, he’d been waiting far too long for this opportunity and he wasn’t going to squander it.

He was going to savour every moment.

“Let’s see,” Sukuna contemplated, relieving your clit of his fingers. He’d want you to beg for it, prove just how much of a needy little whore you really were; he’d have you screaming his name soon enough.

You whined at him as his hands crept along the outsides of your thighs, under your skirt, grabbing hold of your shapely hips. He ignored your cries while he pulled you toward him, your skirt now ruched above your waist.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jostling you with some force when you didn’t move quick enough for him.

From your position—your head now propped where your back had been, Sukuna suspending your arse with his large hands—you could almost pretend that it was still Yuji. It was still his body after all, right? Your eyes passed over the dark lines that only Sukuna had—you always thought they looked like tattoos—and the closed, second set of eyes. Those eyes unnerved you, scared you. You dropped your gaze.

You didn’t ever think you’d have to face this situation, Yuji had reassured you time and time again that he had control of Sukuna, that he wouldn’t be able to take over when things got hot and heavy between the both of you. Now, you supposed Sukuna had lied about being compliant the entire time.

Sukuna continued, “I demand a taste of this—“ he yanked your underwear down your thighs, pulling a little too hard on the waistband, “—sweet fucking cunny.”

Dumbfounded, you were only able to watch him with curious, wide eyes as he moved your legs to benefit him while he struggled to remove your underwear. He was clearly getting impatient, throwing your soaked underwear over his head and across the other side of the room.

Sukuna let out a long, deep moan, as he shuffled himself back. He brought your legs down, pressing his muscular upper-arms against the back of your thighs; this was his way of stabilising you while having both of his hands free.

With his biceps pushing into your thighs, you yelped as your neck was forced into an uncomfortable position. The top of your head pressed against the base of the bed while your ear squashed into your shoulder; you scrambled to hoist yourself up, pushing your palms against the floor.

“Ah-ah,” he growled, yanking you down by the hips.

Sukuna mumbled something, you may not have been able to hear it, but your widely spread cunt certainly felt him say something. He brought the index finger of his right hand up to hover just out of reach of your presenting hole; raising his gaze to catch you looking at him--your chest heaving with your gulping breaths, your eyes almost entirely closed, with your tongue gently lolled out over your bottom lip--he certainly hadn’t expected you to submit to him like this so easily.

“I can see why Yuji likes you,” Sukuna mused, you gasped loudly when his thick finger penetrated you for the first time, “a needy little bitch in heat, like you?”

He let out a satisfied groan as you convulsed against him, nowhere for you to go as he twisted his finger, left to right and back again, fucking you with little care as his thrusts became almost violent. You cried out when he began to hit his palm quite forcefully against your clit with each thrust of his finger; Sukuna’s dark eyes glared up at you, his thick brows pulling together in the middle of his brow while he snarled at you.

You really were trapped.

“I happen to know you like it rough,” he was smirking, the loud, wet sound that came from between your legs as he removed his finger with a yank make you shrink beneath him.

“But, let’s get one thing straight,” he continued, moaning while he sucked at your sweet juices that soaked his finger, “your little Yuji-Kun won’t ever compare to a demon,” Sukuna watched the panic set in your eyes, felt your thighs shaking against his arms as he angled you up.

“It’ll be so delightful and easy, making you teeter on that edge,” he snarled, “between pain and pleasure until I see fit.”

You yelped uncomfortably when the pad of his heavy thumb pressed into your clit; you heard him chuckle above your cries, pressing against it harder. Sukuna pursed his lips against your inner thigh. You felt his smirk against your skin when his thumb quickly shifted from your clit to your hole; it was without warning, your slick allowing him to pull in and out with ease. But the intrusion made you shudder, followed closely by an uncontainable wail.

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, talking into your thigh, “you’re going to make over-stimming you so much fucking fun.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” it was a pitiful attempt at finding your voice.

Sukuna either couldn’t hear you or at the very least, he didn’t want to hear you. He dragged his tongue along your delicate skin, playfully nipping at you every few inches.

Oh, how it amused him when you squirmed, afraid of his real bite, perhaps? The thought excited him.

You continued to whimper while Sukuna roamed your thighs, but when he flicked the tip of his tongue across your clit—fucking you with his thumb, his fingernails digging into the flesh of your arsecheeks—you brought your hand to your face, biting down on the flesh of your wrist.

Sukuna ignored you, giving attention to your throbbing clit, using his free hand to spread your lips just a bit more, enough for him to sink his lips down and around you. He loved when you made those whiny, little bleats—so pathetic, so fucking easy.

But, no, this wasn’t enough for Sukuna. He jerked his thumb out—your walls quivered around the empty space—and replaced it with his tongue; he groaned loudly as he sloppily lapped at your dripping, wet cunt.

Crying into your hand, still biting down on your already raw flesh, you felt the pull of your hips, ready to spasm with the release that was building up within your core. Sukuna masterfully worked his way around your insides, tensing the tip of his tongue to satisfy that sweet spot within you.

“Cum for me, Princess,” his deep voice was cast even lower as he growled as he spoke those words, commanding you; you felt a pressure within your pelvis vibrate and coil.

A pretty, choked sob found its way behind your lips as you relaxed your head to the side. The arm you had been using to silence yourself came down on Sukuna’s head so hard he scratched at your outer thigh; that would surely leave a mark. Whether you were willing to admit it or not, the thought excited you, you wanted him to hurt you.

Sukuna seemed frustrated when you didn’t obey his demand.

“I said fucking cum for me, Princess,” he snarled, firmly placing his hands on either side of your arse. You gasped, feeling the sting of him driving the points of his nails into your flesh. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you, y’know,” he continued in between tending to your soft, little cunt, “but I get the feeling you’d—“ he huffed, driving his nails into you, eliciting a strangled, wailing moan from your lips, “—like it.”

A whimpering, twitching mess was all you were beneath Sukuna’s grip. You heard the sloppy, wet noises combining with his hungry moans, tasting as much of you as he possibly could. Leaning back onto his knees, Sukuna noticed the bright flush in your cheeks.

“Sweet, little thing,” he laughed, “look, she’s embarrassed.”

Sukuna delighted in having you as his play-thing, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. While he stared at you with his impossibly dark eyes, you heard the distinct jostling of a belt being undone; you heard it land with a thud when he discarded it to the side, triggering your body to shudder once more.

He wasn’t impressed with you when you lowered your gaze away.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled, “you will return the favour, Babygirl.”

Your heart beat wildly against your chest, your breathing was nothing but desperate, clamouring gasps as he hoisted you by your hair. Your protesting cries meant nothing to him as he effortlessly pulled you to your knees and the sight of your eyes brimming with tears amused him all the more.

“You’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?” he gave an inflection to his voice, trying to mimic Yuji’s, “It’s still his body, right?”

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightened while he fiddled with the zip of his trousers, you felt helpless, watching as he relieved his thick, hard cock from its clothed prison. It was Yuji’s body, but like this—when Sukuna felt the need to barge his way in—it was his, not Yuji’s.

“Isn’t it?” he spat, pushing you down toward his crotch, cock in hand.

You may have been too shocked to form words, disjoined syllables tumbling from your lips, but not shocked enough to resist him. You didn’t recoil when your lips pressed against the swollen, wet head of his cock, as he brushed his pre-cum across your lips. In fact, you were eager, Sukuna laughed when you parted your lips, ready to receive him.

“See, it’s not that bad, is it?” he mused as he tugged your head back to look up at him.

You heard him stifle a low growl, looking up at him with your pretty, glassy eyes and your puffy, pink lips.

Whining at him as you placed your hands on either side of his muscular thighs, you were a desperate little pet eager for master’s attention. You didn’t care that he held your weight by your hair, it didn’t matter that it hurt. You didn’t care how aggressive he was; it didn’t matter when it felt this good.

“That’s it,” his smile was devilish, allowing you to lower your head into his lap on your own terms.

When you moved Sukuna’s hand away from his cock, he let out a chortle that made your heart flutter. He was gentle while you teased the aching head of his cock. You were ever so pleased with yourself when you pulled guttural, feral moans from his lips; it was your turn to tease Sukuna. For however long he might allow it, that was.

Which wasn’t long at all, it would seem.

Sukuna was impatient and you were taking far too long, he wanted his dick rammed as far down your throat as he could, and he would. He wasn’t being gentle now, not when he pushed your head down onto him. When you let out a surprised yelp, he took the opportunity to take advantage.

“Fuck,” he hissed while you gagged on the intrusion of his length.

Your throat felt raw, there was no niceness about him now as he held you down. You were sure he would be smirking as you convulsed within his grip, feebly attempting to push against his tensed thighs with very little effect. Yuji might be rough with you, but Sukuna was on a different level, and you quickly understood just how utterly useless any and all attempts to save yourself would be.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and you knew—for certain—that someone was going to be you.

You closed your eyes and held onto his thighs so tight your knuckles turned white; it was the only thing you could do to distract yourself at that moment. The tears he’d forced from your eyes dripped onto your chest with your clumsy movements. You let out a wail of relief when he pulled you away, even just for a moment, it was welcomed.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, admiring the spit that dribbled down your chin, "there's my good little Princess."

Your moan at his words was cut off by a cruel shove of his hand; you gagged under the duress of him ramming into the back of your throat. He didn't care that you choked and spluttered beneath him, in fact, you knew it excited him; the way his cock twitched with each uncomfortable noise you made told you everything.

Every bone in your body screamed at you to submit to him, you would hope it would be less humiliating than this. Sukuna was surprised when you fell limp within his grasp and jerked you back once more.

“I wasn’t sure I’d break you so easily,” he chuckled, raising his free hand to your tear-stricken face.

You shuddered when his thumb stroked away at your wet cheek. You kept your eyes closed as his hand snaked its way across your face and down to your mouth. He tightened his grip on your hair as he held down hard with his other hand.

Your eyes darted open, Sukuna was a God looking down upon a mere mortal.

He hissed, you felt a heavy pressure against your lips as he used his hand to push you back against the pillow still propped against the bed. He was quick, untangling his hand from your hair to rest it on your inner thigh. He was laughing as his fingers tightened around your thigh, claws pinching at your flesh.

“Open wide, Babygirl,” baring his teeth at you, he looked maniacal, his hulking shape looming over you.

You sobbed helplessly as the mouth on his palm opened up, summoning a tongue that successfully infiltrated your mouth with very little effort. He laughed as your pretty, flushed face twisted, breathing frantically through your nose.

You were unable to make out the words he growled while he dragged his claws along the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The games he’d played with your throat, and consequently your oxygen, had dulled your senses—all except the ones that mattered, of course.

The bottom of his palm hit hard against your abused clit and your eyes widened with realisation. Sukuna smirked, both hands pressing so impossibly hard against both sets of your lips as he leaned into you.

“Just a little more,” he growled, “and then you’ll be ready for me.”

There was no time to think before the hand at your mouth pushed your head back, the finger and thumb on either side of your nostrils were dangerously close to completely restricting your airflow. Another tongue infiltrated your aching hole, he laughed at you as you convulsed beneath him. He allowed you to shake your head from side to side but nothing more, he found your efforts at yet another struggle tempting.

Your hips bucked defiantly beneath his hand as he bore against you. You whimpered against the tongue at your mouth as the one inside your twitching hole tickled against your most sensitive spot. Sukuna brought his face down impossibly close to yours, now gently grinding his palm against your clit; the only thing you felt were tight shocks that battered away within your core.

Sukuna gripped your face with his fingers, careless as his claws almost scratched at your face. When your head was brought up to meet him, your noses touched. It was unnerving.

You felt Sukuna’s tongues retreat. You were conflicted when you felt the gnawing ache of emptiness that was left behind. Formulating thoughts seemed impossible, coherency was nowhere to be found. With heavy-lidded eyes, you lazily watched as Sukuna knelt back.

It was cute, the way you opened your legs even wider for him. It wasn’t enough for Sukuna, nothing ever seemed enough for Sukuna. You felt his clawed hands grip the underside of your tender thighs; your breath shuddered, feeling the wet head of his cock bump against your widened hole.

“Good girl,” he breathed, “open wide.”

There was no other warning than his words as he shunted his hips forward, you moaned low in your throat—a strangled, feral noise—as your dripping wet cunt enveloped his throbbing length with very little ease.

“See,” he grunted, tightening his grip on your thighs, “I can be kind—“ he pulled his entire length, your hole quivered at the empty space, “—when I want to be.”

You wailed as he bottomed out against you, digging his claws into your flesh hard enough to draw blood as he frantically thrust. He’d been patient long enough but, while you’d been a good girl and indulged him, playtime was over.

Your head whirled and your limbs were numb. The only nerves that you felt any connection to were the ones in your pussy, the ones that made it possible to feel every protruding vein of his achingly hard cock The nerves that made it possible to feel every twitch it made as Sukuna put all his weight into you. He grunted, pushing back on your thighs, you yelped when he folded them against your stomach.

Sukuna delighted in hearing the moan you gave him after yet another deep, unrelenting thrust, his pelvis grinding roughly against your clit. You found yourself unraveling beneath him, you no longer felt within your own body.

“Yuji,” you mewled.

It was an easy mistake to make, a mistake that Sukuna did not appreciate. He laughed down at you as he picked up his pace. An unrelenting pace that shunted your body with each and every thrust. A pace that made you see stars.

“Silly little bitch,” he growled, spitting on your cheek, he was surprised when you let out a gasp of arousal, “say my name.”

He watched you convulse beneath him, felt you writhe and twist in his arms. It was delicious. The way your cunt clamped on his cock, tighter and tighter, and harder and harder until your cervix felt bruised.

“You’re mine right now, Princess,” he told you breathlessly, “Say it.”

You felt his spit hit your face again and your pelvis tightened. Things like that were supposed to feel this good, and for a brief moment, an internal struggle between arousal and embarrassment took place. Your arousal when Sukuna spoke.

“Say my fucking name,” was his final demand, but you could only cry out nonsense, “Say it!”

“Su-Sukuna!” you cried, obliged to obey him.

You were rewarded with the relief of Sukuna removing one of his hands from your thighs, too fucked-out to move—or care—your leg still rested against your stomach. He bared his teeth and brought his hand back; you were astonished that he never lost his momentum. 

He grunted as he breathed.

“That’s right,” his voice began to waver, close to his own climax, “good girl.”

You could almost believe you weren’t just a piece of meat to him, the way his tongue wrapped around the words he used could make anyone feel special. But you were rudely reminded this was Sukuna, not Yuji, when his swung-back hand collided with your thigh.

The Earth itself could have shattered at that very moment, and all you’d feel would be him; you thought yourself lucky enough to remember your name.

“Good—“ he grunted against your arching hips, begging for more you couldn’t possibly take, “—girl.”

Sukuna juddered on top of you, within you, while his claws made their final assault on your skin, while he buried himself as deep within you as possible. You writhed and mewled beneath him, your hands grasped at the carpet, desperate to hold onto something while the pressure of his hot cum filling your battered cunt overwhelmed you.

There was a faint sting that broke through the pleasure as he continued to roll his hips against you, gently for the time being, now that he was spent.

It astonished you how quickly his breathing returned to normal while you struggled to draw any breaths that felt satisfying, still recoiling and twitching. You could speak only broken gibberish.

Sukuna lowered your legs, you wished he’d more gentle; you winced as your hip joints creaked having been forced into such an uncompromising position. You felt the weight of his chest press against yours and his nose nuzzled gently against the crook of your neck.

There was a tense moment as you lay under him as your senses regained consciousness.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered, tears threatened the edges of your eyes.

The pretty pink man who lay on top of you let out an angered growl, the hands that tightened around your wrists no longer had claws; there was care in the grip.

“I’ll kill him,” you heard him growl, his grip tightening.

“Yuji I’m—“ he didn’t leave you room to finish as he lifted his head, gazing down at you with furrowed eyebrows and bold, dark eyes.

“But first,” he told you, looking down at the mess between where your bodies connected, “it looks like I have to punish you first.”

He looked back to you—was he enjoying this?—and cast a dirty smirk at you.

“Because despite what Sukuna may think or say,” he continued, looming closer to you, his cock twitching with every word, “you haven’t been a good girl, have you, Princess?”

Your lips may have been moving but your voice was inaudible.

“You can thank Sukuna for one thing though, Princess,” he growled, nipping at your neck.

His voice broke when he deliberately moaned in your ear, a sound that made you squirm with delight.

“There’s no more holding back,” was the last thing he said before raising your arms above your head and locking his teeth to your neck.

#fanfic #jjk fanfic #sukuna fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #tw:domsub #tw:dubcon #tw:choking #tw:shpitting #tw:marking #tw:biting #tw:scratching #tw:dacryphilia #tw:degradation #tw:breath play #reader has petnames

[lavandermin]

if all stars fell at once (3) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 3.8k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warnings | eventual smut, nightmares

Dark and suffocating. Every corner had entities reaching to restrain you. You were panicked, running down unknown streets despite lead-heavy legs— despite not being able to scream. Like a thick syrup, the stress crept into your chest, filling your lungs as your eyes darted back and forth looking for an answer, a way out.

This warped reconstruction of memories and experiences with sinister manifestations was never ending. A second weighed on you like a century; trapped in the box of dreams conjured by your mind.

The Sea of Clouds was nothing more than a desolate wasteland. Buildings you'd known for years looked unsettling with details that were a little off— stairs that led to nowhere, the shadowy forms that lurked in the deepest corners of your peripheral vision… This was the inescapable circumstance of the environment your mind constructed. Like a labyrinth of the mind that left a sense of impending peril. Though there wasn’t a soul that could be found in any of the deepest recesses of the harbor, there was an ever-present feeling of being followed— watched.

Something was after you. Down deserted streets and abandoned alleyways the ambiguous figures followed you. By the ominous presence of a colorless sky above the harbor, you knew anything encountered here would not seek to be well-intentioned. And still knowing this was nothing but a nightmare, there was always something that filled you with paralyzing trepidation at finding out what fate awaited you if the evil entities consumed you.

Fear of the unknown.

It was always like this. Yet you could never stop the suffocating dread that enveloped your form and drove you forward as adrenaline fueled your heavy limbs.

With legs fighting to continue forward, you take a sharp turn to increase the distance between yourself and the malevolent figures inching closer.

‘I’m scared.’ But your thoughts echoed helplessly around you.

The entities dripped with malice, pouring out of cracks in the buildings and trudging through the stone paths. No longer holding a cohesive form, they began to merge and fight to walk over each other to reach the nightmare’s victim.

You tightly squeezed your eyes shut, body seized with recoiling anxiety. But nothing came. Instead, there was a gentle hand that placed itself on your shoulder.

‘I’m here,’ Xiao’s voice reassured. He pulled you towards him, delicately holding you in a protective embrace. There was an immediate shift in the air around you. ‘I won’t allow them to hurt you anymore.’

Behind him, you could begin to see the harbor chip away into ashen particles that glowed wispily. The dark entities seemed to melt away, seeping into the cracks and grooves of the cobblestone like a murky syrup.

Your body became light and airy in his hold, and you wanted nothing more than to stay in his safety for all eternity. Now more at ease, you slowly raised your clouded gaze to meet his golden irises, firm and reassuring.

‘May this nightmare release you from its hold.’

Tenderly, Xiao pressed his lips to your forehead and the crumbling mind-space around you was forgotten. It was as if the nightmare was unraveled and recondensed within the palm of his hand, and left you feeling like a wave of drowsiness settled in to fill it’s absence. Everything went blank, feeling like you succumbed to another slumber within your slumber.

Euphoric and warm. Finally, peace found you for a restful sleep.

—

Distant hums of mourning doves and the tranquil drips of raindrops playing melodies on puddle surfaces greeted Qingce Village as morning settled in. The sky was grey yet maintained bright as the sun still managed to break through much of the condensed clouds. The sluggish morning greeted you with a breath of ease.

With a stretch and a yawn, you peered one eye open. Across the room, you spotted Xiao seated against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as his head slowly nodded off to the side. He was dozing off, if not already asleep. Had he stayed the whole night? You clutched the warm blankets a little tighter around your cozied-up form, eyes fluttering shut to try and recall your dream.

...Nothing.

No matter how much you tried to recall anything, even the vague feeling of the dream, ultimately you were left empty-handed. Though it wouldn’t be the first time that you woke up being unable to recall a dream, this time felt deliberate. There was a distinct feeling lingering in the back of your mind you couldn’t quite describe. You could only imagine that it meant the nightmare was eaten as Xiao mentioned.

You glanced back over at the dozed off yaksha, his face peaceful and loose stands endearingly strewn about his face. When he had first mentioned dream eating a few nights ago, you got the feeling he was a little reluctant to do so. Despite his usual calm, aloof demeanor, there was some body language you learned to pick up on. Xiao is never one to lie to you, as he is curt and blunt in his own polite way, so you could only hope he wasn’t putting himself in danger with this.

You force the spiral of thoughts away before it festers any longer. No use getting in your head about it. It would only worry you sick if you kept deliberating. And much like Xiao is straightforward, perhaps you, too, should just ask him about it. You’d think about it.

With quiet movements so as to not disturb the sleeping adeptus, you waddled over draped in warm covers to put around him.

‘He looks really tuckered out,’ you noted, brows furrowing ever so slightly with momentary worry.

The moment you crouched down to brush a strand of hair out of his face, his hand quickly shot out to grab your wrist. His golden eyes opened frantically, narrowing momentarily at the sudden disturbance only to be met with your startled whimper and remorseful expression.

“I–I’m sorry to scare you awake!” you apologized hurriedly. Upon seeing it was only you and not an enemy, his expression returned to a more neutral state as he released his deafening grip on your wrist. “I thought you might be cold sitting on the floor so… I…”

Xiao wordlessly eyed the large blanket that practically swallowed your entire form and trailed behind you. It made you look so tiny in comparison.

He eyed the way your fingers absentmindedly massaged where he gripped with a little too much force. Concern settled in, and his gloved fingers gently reached out to check the tender flesh.

“Your wrist— did I injure you?” His eyes searched your face intently for any hint of pain or discomfort.

It only tingled, the prior pressure lingering and slowly subsiding. You shook your head, gingerly draping half of the blanket over him and huddling up next to him. He didn’t protest the gesture, the gentleness of your actions becoming something Xiao’s grown fond of.

You offered him a reassuring smile. “No, I’m okay. I startled you pretty badly… Were you having a bad dream?”

He hummed, pensive as he leaned his head back to thump softly against the wall. “Adepti don’t dream. When a mortal dream is consumed, it lingers in fragments that soon disappear not long after. I can only briefly be part of that dream as a means to get rid of it, so it’s as close to dreaming as I can experience.”

Perhaps dreams were akin to adeptal realms, and he left such inferences at that. His only goal was to rid you of the nightmares that resurfaced as of late.

“I see...” You contemplated, both perplexed and enthralled by this ability Xiao had proven to possess. And though you didn’t actually witness it, the inability to remember last night’s dream was proof enough that it worked. “So, does that mean you got rid of one of my nightmares?”

“Yes. It’s fragments are mostly gone.”

With a looming sense of guilt, you asked, “Are they scary? The nightmares, I mean.”

“No,” he responded without second thought. Considering his past— the likes of which you were still vastly unfamiliar with— any nightmares he had consumed were few and far in between. “Nightmares are conjured by the mortal mind as visual human fears. Often adepti will not be able to experience this except for myself through dreams I consume, but I’m not afraid of what I encounter. No matter what I see, I know it’s only an illusion. The feeling of the dream only lingers similar to the taste of food.”

You felt like a curious child; asking too many questions about something that piqued your interest. Still, Xiao entertained you all the same, answering your questions about dream eating with all the patience in the world. It made for a nice morning chat on such a drowsy day made to be spent huddled under warm covers.

The sparkling glint your eyes held as you hung on every word, or the way your soft, pink lips parted slightly with a silent gasp as he elaborated— it never tired him. It made his chest ache sweetly with that recurring feeling. Perhaps if his range of emotions were similar to yours, he would be smiling like he biggest love-struck fool right now.

“So, think about it, okay?” You finished with a beaming grin.

Oh. You had been talking. How long had he been distracted? He can’t even remember the last thing you said, too busy sorting out his mind. The adeptus could only blink confusedly at you as you stood up, hands on your hips lacking admonishment with the amused smile that quirked the edges of your lips up.

Rare was the moment you would catch the highly-attentive Conqueror of Demons off guard. Though his face remained neutral, you didn’t miss the momentary bewilderment in his eyes when he wasn’t sure how to respond. You took that as cue that his mind had momentarily drifted elsewhere.

“I said I wanted to repay you for helping me with the nightmare issue, but you seemed distracted. Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” you jokingly teased as you waved your hand in front of his face.

Xiao averted his gaze, lightly scoffing, “Don’t be absurd. Adepti have no need for sleep. And payment isn’t necessary— I did this because I wanted to.”

There are many things you know about Xiao, and perhaps twice as many more things you had yet to learn about him. Your knowledge was already far surpassing what most mortals knew of him, but your advantage lay within the boundaries of a more personal relationship with an adeptus— a true rarity indeed. However, the subtle shade of scarlet twinging his ears as he hid his composed facade behind dark teal hair… there was no doubting it, much to his unvoiced chagrin.

Ah, you noted, so he’s embarrassed.

A relationship, unclearly defined by little gestures and subtlety in words that were mere whispers of deeper pining. There were complex feelings at hand, but the universe would show kindness and move for you both at the pace needed to meet each other halfway. Not rushed, but never stagnant. It was achingly slow and sweet to share moments of vulnerability among each other, here within walls that weren’t privy to prying eyes. And it was moments like this that fell into a rhythm— a wavelength— that seemed to pull an invisible string connecting you both together.

You didn’t tease him for the embarrassed pinks on his cheek, and for that he was grateful.

“Still, I want to do something for you.” You stopped him before he could protest, turning at the door frame of your washroom. “I’m doing this because I want to. It can be anything you want, as long as it makes you happy.”

With that, the door clicked shut and he was left with his lips parted in quiet bewilderment. Distant sounds of running water filled the deafening silence as he sat back with a deep sigh. Adepti are the ones relied on for favors and wishes. How strange— to have a mortal so readily offer to fulfil an adeptus’s curiosities with your limited capabilities. To bring him happiness… Something he didn’t see any benefit in, nor did he think he was capable of feeling happiness.

Xiao thought deeper into it, analyzing what exactly it was that filled him with a strange unease. Something that made him happy…

Happiness. He scoffed at himself at the mere thought. He was made to kill, to defend the land by any means necessary. His happiness… It was never a factor in his contract. It played no greater role in how swiftly he cut down blighted monsters. Happiness was not the weapon he relied on in the face of evil he vanquished. So, why was he giving himself a headache trying to figure out what made him feel happiness? An emotion he wasn’t very familiar with to begin with.

Here you were, showing— what? Mortal arrogance? No. His perceptiveness as an adepti was far too knowing, and perhaps the truth was what puzzled him more. What you showed him was genuine kindness, and perhaps a shred of naivete you clung onto.

He found himself warm with amusement when he thought about it— about how you treated him like you would any human. Where most would tremble at the sight of him or treat him with the reverent idolization that mortals do, you were instead treating him like one would a close friend. And maybe, if it were anyone else, he would see it as blatant disrespect. But if it’s you— since it’s you, he oddly sees no reason to raise a fuss about it despite himself.

It was a nice change of pace to feel at ease around you. A lighthearted reverie of mundane human life, and a moment of freedom from the heartache that burdened him as an adeptus.

Languidly, he scanned the room with unfocused amber eyes, your distant hums echoing in a muffled melody from beyond the other room. The glaze lilies from the other night had been moved to the desk by a window, the closed buds subtly glowing as they picked up on muffled hums of wordless songs and opened up shyly to your song.

Much like it’s difficult to find the right harmony favored by the delicate flower, Xiao wondered what made you bloom… and decided he would find happiness in figuring out your melody.

——

You blinked, mouth wordlessly opening and closing just the same. The words even made you fumble with your needle as you were stitching some intricate embroidery.

Finally gaining some composure, you cleared your throat but still ended up stuttering out, “W–Wait, I– Um– Could you…run that by me again?”

He had returned later that same day, when the moon was high in the sky and fireflies illuminated the still fields of Qingce with their soft glow. Seated patiently across from you, Xiao held your gaze firmly with arms folded across his chest.

“I’d like for you to enlighten me more about mortal emotions. If I want to get to know you better, I can’t avoid being a bit more knowledgeable about them.”

The way he held your gaze firmly and with undeniable resolve meant he truly deliberated this for a while, though you hadn’t expected him to actually come forward so quickly. Truth be told, you expected him to take on an adeptus stance and simply pay you no mind.

With a softer voice, he added, “Consider it the one thing you can do for me. I want to… understand you. Fully.”

“A–Ah, I see. Okay, so I did hear you right the first time.” You were already starting to put away your materials. Better to avoid any mistakes while your mind was taking a second to refocus. “Well, it’s… it’s a bit of a broad topic, and I’m no Sumeru professor. But, I’ll still give it my best.”

Dealing with a battle-hardened warrior in an area they were unsure of was a little intimidating. But, you’ve seen moments where Xiao has shown you a gentler side, one more tender and soft. It gave you hope that things would come naturally to him over time. More than anything, your heart was taking the heat of the nerves. There was just… so much and yet so little to emotions— taken for granted when they were embedded into you without much second thought. It was a little dizzying to figure out how to best help him comprehend things he hasn’t experienced much.

You shook your spiraling thoughts away before they over-complicated themselves and made you short-circuit. “So, uhm, are there any specific emotions you don’t fully comprehend?”

Xiao hummed, eyes closed and brows slightly scrunched as he racked his brain. In the end he came up empty. “I’m not sure. I’ll leave it up to you.”

With a slow nod, you pieced together possible ways to go about this. For the span of time you knew him, Xiao always expressed his puzzlement with how humans worked— not out of disdain, but rather voicing his disconnect with them. To hear him want to finally break the surface rather than choose his usual path of avoidance, was surprising to you in every way.

Still, humans are social creatures by nature and such interactions are what sparks the reactive emotions as a result. You were positive his curiosity didn’t warrant the desire to be put head first in a sea of emotional enigmas. He wasn’t a ‘people person’— something you knew all too well. This desire to learn was something Xiao allowed himself to entrust you with. You and you only.

“I have no desire to figure out how every mortal works,” he explained, hoping it would help narrow down your jumbled thoughts. His voice lowered just a fraction— volume just above a whisper meant for you alone to hear. “Understanding you alone is enough for me to work with. Don’t overthink it.”

There was an undeniable heat that twinged your cheeks. Xiao was looking to unravel your feelings for him without even knowing it. But there was a slight excitement you felt at the idea of the dense yaksha in front of you figuring out what the ties that wound you both together meant. There was plenty to explore.

“Alright, well,” you started, “What I think you need is just… experience. On a human level. Maybe then some things will click easier.”

He felt the warmth of your hand as you sidled over next to him, hand reassuringly placed over his gloved one. Xiao nodded slowly, a little apprehensive at the prospect of needing to adjust his perspective.

You cleared your throat, anxious to be prying more into his personal being. “So, what makes you happy, Xiao?”

There was a brief pause, the gears visibly turning in his head as his brows knit together. He was left staring blankly at you. “Could you… explain?”

“Oh, right… Sorry,” you apologized. “It’s whatever makes you feel… uhm, pleasant. Like a warm, sunny feeling in your entire being. Sometimes it makes you smile or laugh, but in the end always leaves you feeling satisfied for a fleeting moment and then everything doesn’t seem so bad— no matter how much you’ve endured. It makes things worth the effort.”

“I see,” he nodded slowly. “What makes you happy?”

Avoiding the question— though it’s not like you expected him to answer easily. Some examples would probably help him understand best and you reasoned this would be a very hands-on learning experience for him in the end, anyway.

“Me? Hm…” You pondered it a moment, absentmindedly fiddling with the adepti amulet he gifted you. “Sitting under the stars. It’s one of my favorite moments of peace under the calm of the dark sky… The world around us shifts every moment that passes, but it’s a comfort that the stars remain a constant when I look up for hope to get me through another day.”

There was a distant look in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Xiao. However, something about the delicacy of the moment told him now wasn’t the moment to prod into the heaviness that weighed on your heart. There was a reason you were still here, much like him— your will to go on became your greatest strength. You visibly snapped out of your musings, a rosy hue high on your cheekbones.

“Sorry for… that— Where was I? Oh, right. It’s not too hard to find something that makes you happy if it’s something you like doing. Reading books, the people I love and care about, the colors of the sky as the sun sets— all of these make me happy, too.”

The subtle embarrassment that tensed your shoulders at first was subsiding, settling into comfortable conversation. Maybe it’s the attentive way Xiao sat with his face propped on his fist, expression relaxed as he took in every little detail you gave— it was hard to feel flustered for long.

He leaned back against the wall, his arms folding over his chest as he exhaled from the effort it took to think long and hard about what sparked some form of happiness in him.

“And if I were to say that what brings me happiness is you,” Xiao starts, his amber eyes glowing subtly as they focused on you, “what would be your response?”

There would be many ways you could respond, but the instant the words registered in your head you were suddenly at a loss for words.

“T–That would depend… on what you consider me,” you stuttered out, voice slowly growing meeker under his burning gaze. The moment of silence as he hummed in thought felt like it lasted an eternity, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“I consider you my person.”

Your plush lips were left parted in quiet awe, eyes glittering like the sky you so dearly loved as they visibly widened. Any words you were going to stumble over were cut off when soft lips pressed at your cheek. The tender revelation didn’t need words, as Xiao was a man of communicating best through actions. Both mortal and immortal sat in the stillness of the room with matching rosy cheeks adorning their features.

“You…” The heat in your face seemed to match the intensity of the ache in your chest. “Kissing me so freely… You want my heart to stop, don’t you.” But you were smiling as you buried your face into his shoulder to hide the increasing redness on your cheeks.

Xiao shrugged, “You do it all the time.”

...Screw it.

Any other lighthearted remark he was about to say was cut off by your lips silencing him in a rushed kiss. It was hasty and sweet, your eyes tightly shut as you chose to respond in actions like he did. Golden irises widened briefly before fluttering shut, letting the feeling lead.

It was warm— the feeling in his chest, the shy innocence reddening his face, the gloved hand that settled on top of yours as it tenderly cupped one of his cheeks. Here before him you bloomed so beautifully that it made his heart ache and his mind go blank momentarily. Yes, he was positively sure of it now.

You made him happy.

#adeptus xiao #Xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin fanfic #mii writes #genshin #genshin xiao #xiao fluff #fluff #eventual smut #pwp #developing relationship #xiao x reader #xiao/reader #dream eater #fic: iasfao

[sylverstorms]

Donna x Elena ----From Winter to Spring

This is a commission written for the lovely @saltwatereulogies and I cannot thank you enough for all your support! I hope you enjoy the story :)

She doesn’t know how she escaped that nightmarish inferno. How she still draws breath. Why her body keeps running despite its condition and despite the fact that she has lost everything.

The village is gone. Everyone she knew is either dead or a monster. She watched her own father growl like a beast and cleave a woman in half, then soon after wail out her name and succumb to the flames swallowing up the building. There is nothing left. There is nothing left for her.

Why? Elena wonders. A trail of blood marks her path through the snow, towards the unknown. Why still fight?

It will be easier to surrender to the agonizing burns, to the open gashes and wood splinters stuck in her skin. It will be far, far simpler to stop pressuring her rattling lungs to provide oxygen and fall into the snow, instead. It looks… peaceful. Soft. Pure.

It will welcome her to a quiet death, she thinks, so she may join her friends and her father.

Her father. The man who had never reached his hand out to help her when she fell –either on the fields or when she tripped over hardships— yet had always been there in his own stubborn, strict way, telling her to pick herself up.

“I didn’t raise no quitter.”

Ah, is that why.

Perhaps part of her feels it owes it to him to try. She did miraculously survive the fiery wreckage she’d initially thought would be her grave. But… the odds just aren’t with her.

Elena is only human. She’s lost too much blood, been through too much punishment. Her vision is growing blurrier by the second, her legs more sluggish. When she steps on grass instead of snow, she believes her mind is now playing tricks on her, too.

Something smells sweet, like wildflowers.

That is the last thing Elena is aware of, before she drops to her knees and blacks out.

-

-

When she blinks her eyes open, she is… confused.

She never thought heaven nor hell would have a wooden ceiling. She wouldn’t have guessed pain follows one into the afterlife, either, yet there she is, prone and throbbing with every weak breath on a bed too comfortable to be her own.

Unless…

Unless she’s not dead. Unless, against all odds, she survived a second time only to suffer some more. Elena wants to cry. What cruel game is the universe playing with her? The luck she never had in life is suddenly gracing her in extreme bursts now that she doesn’twant it.

“She’s awakeeee!” an overly excited voice exclaims somewhere around the room. Elena is too dizzy to tell.

“Shh.” A second presence makes itself known, calming the first.

“Who…” Who are you, Elena tries to say, but the words never make it past her dry throat.

Heels tap against the floor, until a black-clad figure comes to peer down at her. Elena expected to see the face of her savior, yet all she sees is a ghost, its visage hidden behind a mourning veil. The image is jarring; it sends her heartbeat skyrocketing, which doesn’t help her condition.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord what… Elena wants to tell herself she’s dreaming. It isn’t real, none of this is real—

Until a doll jumps into the edge of her bed and says something she doesn’t hear over the sound of her hoarse scream.

The ghost flinches backwards as the world turns dark once more.

-

-

The second time she opens her eyes, hours or days later, the pain has subsided somewhat.

Elena can feel her body, at least. All the wounded parts are carefully wrapped in gauzes and all her burns are covered by a soothing salve. Her lungs no longer hiss when she inhales, so long as she does so slowly, evenly.

That, of course, is not so easy to do when she turns to her left and sees the ghost sitting there, an open book in her lap. The veil is still on, obscuring her features, but Elena takes note of her fingers as they cradle the spine of the tome, long and pale, manicured black.

Appearances aside, there is a certain calm about her that doesn’t feel threatening.

“I… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” she whispers, not trusting her voice to go any higher.

The mystery woman tenses as though her voice has startled her. “…No.” she eventually replies. Her voice is quiet, like the rest of her.

“Did… you save me…?” A single nod is all she gets in return. Her company doesn’t seem very comfortable speaking, but Elena has questions that she needs answered. “Where am I?”

“The Beneviento estate.”

Elena would gasp if she could. I made it that far? And this woman… is she really Donna Beneviento? Her father told her all she needed to know about the four Lords residing at the outskirts of the village. He had also told her to avoid them at all costs.

“Um. I’m Elena—” A cough cuts her off. The sudden motion causes every injury across her body to burn.

“…I know.”

She is too much pain, in that moment, to ask how Donna knows.

-

-

In the following days, Elena comes to accept a few things that would have normally made her question her sanity;

The doll is alive. Her name is Angie and she is Donna’s friend. Donna is the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda, who, upon the former’s request, has given her permission for Elena to remain in the mansion. When she asked what would have happened had she denied, the doll only sing-songed that she doesn’t really want to know.

It still plagues her mind, probably because she has far too much time to think and this is the only thing she can focus on, lest she starts crying over and over again.

When Donna comes to change her bandages, it is a relief.

The woman sits at the edge of her bed, at the absolute maximum distance. Elena slowly brings her body to a semi-reclining position to assist. Angie hops on the bed and pulls the covers to the side… and that is when they arrive to a standstill. Donna doesn’t move, Elena doesn’t know what to do.

“Um. May I?” the veiled woman motions with her –admittedly very elegant— hands. It’s… endearing, how she approaches the subject of touching her.

Elena nods and tries to be a good patient for her. Tries being the key word. When she’s not fighting for her life, she is not nearly as brave in the face of pain. Her teeth are gritted as Donna’s cool hands unwrap the gauzes at her right arm, her eyes closed, breath held.

“…Am I hurting you?” Donna asks, quiet as ever.

“No.” Elena forces herself to exhale. “No, you’re… very gentle.”

Donna nods and continues with the same measured movements. Elena doesn’t want to look at her wounds, afraid of what she’ll find there, so she turns to the veiled visage of her companion. She wishes she could see her face. Wonders what she may look like, what flaw she’s trying to hide.

Until a bandage catches on a particularly bad burn and Elena cries out.

Her whole body jumps—

Donna’s hands fly to her shoulders, keeping her steady with surprising strength, yet she steps away the very next second as though she’s been scorched.

Elena bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. There you go, making her uncomfortable…

Angie takes over for a while, also quite precise. Elena peeks down to realize she isn’t in as terrible a condition as she may have imagined. Scars will be left, no doubt, but she will probably heal well enough.

Then the last difficult spot comes up. She knows it when Angie warns: “You need to stay still here.”

“No, no wait!” Elena pleads. “I—I can’t.” I can’t, I can’t deal with this again, not again—

But Donna sits back next to her and her mere presence calms her down. “You are very strong, Elena. This is the last one.” she says.

“Hold me down.” Elena requests.

Donna doesn’t seem to like the idea. Still, she slowly brings her hand back over the uninjured part of Elena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” she whispers.

“On three.” Angie says. “One… Two…”

She pulls the bandage on two and Elena would jump high enough to burst through the ceiling if it wasn’t for Donna. When the agony subsidies she realizes she’s sobbing helplessly, clutching at the dollmaker’s sleeves for dear life.

“Shh, I’m sorry, it’s over now. It’s over.” Donna’s slender fingers comb through her unruly hair.

The brunette closes her eyes and lets her head drop back down into her pillow, but she doesn’t let go of the dollmaker right away. She smells like the flowers outside her house,she thinks.

She feels like a safe space, steady, in a world that’s broken and tilted for Elena.

-

-

Gradually, Donna talks to her more. Gradually, Elena tests her body’s limits until she is strong enough to walk around the house on her own.

Angie is with her, most of the time, but she knows it’s less a security measure and more one for her safety. Her mental connection to Donna is something Elena cannot grasp nor understand, but she tries to.

The first time she manages to get to the living room, Elena stops and stares at the painting of Donna adorning the wall opposite her.

“…is that her?” she asks Angie.

“Of course!” the doll replies excitedly. “I am so proud of that one, the artist did a great job! Mistress Donna looks splendid, but it is me who steals the show!”

Elena can’t look away from the canvas. Why is she so familiar…? “Is that what she looks like?”

“Well, excluding a scar she wishes to hide. Kind of like my face. We match.” Angie answers, giving her version of a grin.

For the rest of the day, Elena sneaks glances at Donna, then the painting. It isn’t proper, she knows, but she’s curious. And… surely, no scar is enough to justify hiding that cute face from the world?

-

-

Weeks pass. Elena has healed well and she owes it all to Donna.

The two of them have grown closer in the time the former’s injuries have forced them together, close enough to have tea in the mornings and brief chats over common interests throughout the day.

When the weather grows a tad warmer, Elena asks the dollmaker to take a stroll with her outside. She sees the decorated graves, of course, but she knows better than to ask. She doesn’t want their time to be poisoned by grief. The scars of losing loved ones run deep, she knows this too well and they never really heal.

The two of them are basking in comfortable silence for a while, until a thought that feels impossible not to be voiced strikes Elena.

“Donna.” she speaks.

“Hm?”

“When I first woke up and I told you my name… you said ‘I know’.”

“…yes.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before…?” Elena stops and turns to face her companion. Donna mirrors her.

“How certain are you?” she asks. Upon Elena’s obvious confusion, she elaborates; “As a child, I used to visit the village with my father. In one of those visits, some of the kids made fun of my scar. A boy, especially, was saying some very mean things.”

Elena starts to recall one such incident in the blurry images of her childhood.

“You stopped him.” Donna says. Pauses. “…with a punch to the face.”

Elena raises a hand to her mouth, but a quick laugh escapes her anyway. “I did?” A nod. “No way.”

“You did.”

“It couldn’t have been a strong one, though.” Elena giggles.

“I don’t know. Rumor has it he still hasn’t gotten up, to this day…” The little exhale of a chuckle that escapes Donna makes something in Elena bloom and flutter.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to lift the damned veil and see the face of the gentlest, kindest woman she’s ever met.

-

-

The winter eventually gives way to spring. The earth heals from the wounds of the cold like Elena has, under Donna’s care.

She no longer has doubts about what she feels, what she wants. It is only a matter of overcoming her fears and nervousness. Only a matter of finding the right timing and the appropriate setting.

Elena has rehearsed the words she needs to say many times in her dreams and thoughts, yet she finds herself tongue-tied and completely lost on what to do in reality. She has asked Donna to walk with her, taken her to where the waterfall calms into a river… and now struggles to summon her voice.

“What is it, Elena?” Donna, ever the sweetheart, asks. “You know you can tell me anything… right?”

“What if…” she hesitantly begins. “What if I can’t tell you? …can I show you, instead?”

“Of course.”

Elena takes a deep breath and chastises herself to woman up. One little step brings her into Donna’s personal space. Her hand raises to the edge of the veil, blue eyes searching for a sign she should stop. The dollmaker is tense, but she hasn’t made a move to back away, nor lower Elena’s hand.

She trusts her.

And that’s all Elena needs to finally, finally remove the barrier separating them for months. The cute girl she defended as a child is a beautiful woman now, looking back at her with gentle, dark eyes. The jagged scar running down the right side of her face does nothing to retract from that beauty.

“You don’t need that.” she breathes. “You never did.”

Donna glances to the side, a hint of color spreading over her pale cheeks. Elena chases her chin with her fingers, then slowly inches closer, making sure the dollmaker has ample time to decide if she wants this, too.

When their lips meet, color blooms behind her shut eyelids, within her chest. Donna’s mouth is as soft and sweet as her personality, Elena discovers. It is a short, chaste kiss but it is also a promise for many more to come.

It is the gratitude Elena will eternally hold for Donna, who found her at the ending of her life and nursed her back to this,

A new beginning.

#Donna x Elena #donna beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #mother miranda #commission #because two cuties make a recipe for success #donna my beloved

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When you suddenly hold his hand

Original title: 当你突然握住他的手

Original author: 池离子

[ VICTOR ]

You’re sitting on the sofa while Victor’s next to you, looking through documents.

Peering at Victor, you watch as he pores over the documents very seriously - so seriously that he doesn't even notice you staring at him. Carefully admiring him from head to toe, your eyes finally land on Victor’s hand.

His hand is much larger than yours. Looking at your own small and petite hands, you find them adorable and a perfect match for Victor’s well-defined hands. Reaching out, you place your hand atop the hand that he’s using to hold the documents. 

He turns to glance at you, realising that you’re staring at his hand. In response, he swaps the documents to his other hand, freeing the hand that’s held by you.

“You’ve already had one pudding tonight. There isn’t a second one."

You swat his hand angrily.

"What? In your eyes, is everything I do linked to pudding?”

He’s taken aback slightly, but eventually returns his gaze to the document.

You spread his hand flat, then put your own hand on it. One big and one small - a good fit. You can feel the warmth of his palm. This hand held yours at the dance, held your waist in the ski resort, and wiped cream from the corner of your mouth. Thinking about it, you unfurl your hand before clutching Victor’s tightly.

Victor’s eyes never leave the document, but he returns your grip with equal force.

Your hand is delicate and small. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, and the ticklish sensation makes you stifle your laughter. Despite wanting to pull your hand away, he doesn't let you go. Instead, he tightens his grip, as though fearing that you’d pull your hand away from his.

"Don’t move.”

“In this lifetime... you can’t leave.”

-

[ GAVIN ]

Gavin is watching TV with you, the both of you huddled in a corner of the sofa, squished into a small ball. Your head is resting on his shoulder, and your hands are on your kneecaps. A faint light has been purposefully left on in the room to prevent it from being in complete darkness, and also to set the ambience.

Your gaze shifts from the boring advertisement to Gavin, and see that his hand is on his leg.

You’re suddenly struck with a mischievous idea.

You place your small and delicate hand on the back of Gavin’s. Noticing your action, he lowers his head slightly and asks if something’s wrong.

Ignoring him, you continue playing with his hand, feeling the rough callouses on it from years of wielding a gun. After giving them careful touches, you burrow your own hand underneath Gavin’s. With this, your hand makes direct contact with his leg.

Gavin doesn’t say a word. You can sense that he’s gradually tightening his grip on your hand. He’s exerting pressure, but is in control to ensure that he isn’t grasping your hand too tightly. He wraps your small hand in his large palm. His heartbeat seems to be following his palm, sending you a steady stream of signals.

Lifting your head to look at him, you find that his eyes are fixed on the TV, and his ears have turned crimson.

Using your free hand, you reach out to touch his ear. It’s terribly hot.

“Gavin, your ears are so red and warm...”

Gavin turns to face you.

“Cough. That’s because... you lighted the fire...”

-

[ LUCIEN ]

You’ve come to Lucien’s laboratory to pick him up from work. By this time, Lucien should have already hung up his white coat, and should be sitting on his office chair, grinning as you rush in with snacks you bought along the way. But today, when you rush in with the egg tart you purchased, the white lab coat is still on Lucien. He sits before the laptop, holding some documents while perusing through them.

"You’re here? Sorry, there was a little issue at work today. I'm currently looking for the cause of it. You might have to wait a while. I'll be done as soon as possible.”

You nod, placing the egg tart on his table. Shifting a chair over, you sit beside him.

Lucien always smells good, you think to yourself. There’s always a cool and fragrant scent on him, but you’ve never seen him spraying cologne. The flowers at home don’t have this scent either. Giving him a careful whiff, you can’t guess what it is.

You haven’t seen Lucien in an entire day! Right now, you really need a Lucien-recharge, so you stand up to move behind him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bury your face in his white coat, one hand hanging loosely in front of his chest. He isn’t too surprised, nor is he caught off guard. After all, you’ve used this trick many times, and he’s grown used to it.

Inhaling Lucien’s scent deeply, you find that he’s really nice to smell. Lucien seems to be tickled by your breath. He chuckles lightly while giving the arm in front of him a gentle pet. You grab his hand.

"Lulu... how much longer will you take?”

He grips your hand tightly, as though he’s giving you a response.

“Ten minutes. Just wait for a little longer. I’ll be done soon, okay?”

With this, he brings your hand to his lips, giving the back of your hand a gentle kiss.

This action flusters you so much that you want to find a hole to burrow into. Although you hurriedly attempt to withdraw your hand, Lucien’s stronger than you, and he clasps your hand tightly, giving it another firm kiss.

As though succumbing to fate, you slump against his neck, putting your arms around his neck.

Even though you can’t see your own expression, your face has already started to feel warm, and your ears are probably red to their tips as well.

"You must be feeling shy. Let me see...” After saying this, he turns his head.

“Don’t look!" You mumble, burying your face in the shoulder of his white coat.

-

[ KIRO ]

The two of you have just finished a game, and are slumped on two beanbags next to each other, surrounded by potato chips and soda. Kiro tosses the controller to the side, then leans against you coquettishly.

"Miss Chips is too good at playing! I can't beat her at all! I’m not playing anymore! It’s so embarrassing!”

You rub the golden head that has leaned over. His hair is so soft. For a moment, you even feel like you’re petting a large golden retriever.

You glance at the controller which has been thrown onto the carpet. Eyes shifting upwards, you see a pair of hands that you’re highly envious of.

He’s a celebrity, so of course it’s very important to have a pair of nice-looking hands. Kiro has taken off his ring. Originally, his hands are thin, long and pale, and the part where he often wears the ring is even more tender. You look at your own hands. As compared to Kiro’s, you probably aren’t even considered a female.

Brimming with jealousy, you slowly stroke the back of his hand. The delicateness of Kiro’s hand is just like yours.

"Miss Chips..."

You hear him calling you like this, but you have no intention of responding. You simply rely on your courage to continue. You put your hand in his palm and look at him, anticipating his next move.

Kiro is fascinated by the huge watery eyes you’re giving him, and immediately grabs your hand.

"I knew it... You’re just as hungry as I am, aren’t you? Let's find something to eat! There’s never enough snacks!”

"?"

He gets up quickly and grips your hand tightly, trying to pull you up too.

"What do you want to eat? I'll make it for you!"

You look up at him as he radiates with light, and release a chuckle.

"Okay, okay!”

Borrowing his strength, you stand up as well. The two of you walk to the kitchen while grinning and swinging each others’ hands like little children.

-

[ SHAW ]

It's too hot. Surviving the summer is going to be difficult.

The air conditioner at home is broken, and you’re still sweating despite wearing a blouse. Shaw steps out of the kitchen with a large glass of iced cola in his hand. Judging by the volume, it’s clear that he mixed Cola and Sprite again. 

He sits next to you, gulping it down, and you watch as water vapour surrounds and the glass. it must have been chilled. You’re going crazy from the heat, so you unfurl your hand in front of him, indicating that he had better give you a sip of the iced cola.

Instead, this ignorant man put his hand on yours. Not only is there no cola to drink, but it’s also warm.

"Stinky Brother, I asked you to give me a sip, not your hand." You swat his hand away, moving forward to snatch the cola in his other hand.

"Hey hey hey Mary Sue, be careful. I mixed two soft drinks in this. Don't spill it on me..."

Shaw knows that you genuinely can’t stand the heat, so he doesn’t tease you this time. Instead, he obediently places the cup in the palm of your hand. The wall of the cup is icy cold, and it’s so comfortable that you want to stick your face against it.

You take a small sip, and the cooling sensation fills your mouth, and your mood becomes exponentially better. Filled with a sudden impulse, you reach out, grabbing Shaw’s hand tightly.

You expected Shaw to respond by returning your grip.

But Shaw is Shaw, and he’s always testing your patience.

"Oh? Auntie, you maintain your skin pretty well for someone who has reached middle-age... tsk tsk tsk.” He speaks, lifting your hand up and scrutinising it.

"You brat. I’m right here, so you better cleanse your mouth...”

With the cola in one hand, you try to retract the other.

Not caring that it’s warm, Shaw grasps your hand tightly, uttering a casual apology. On account of the cola, you decide not to hold a grudge against him.

"Mary Sue, save me some. Don't drink it all." Shaw leans over, and the only thing separating your faces is the glass.

“Also, let’s head out later. Your hand’s really empty... I need to get you some jewellery... Do you like rings?”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

池离子: OK! Just state that the source is LOFTER池离子. Also, if you’ve posted it, could you also take a screenshot for me? No need for the whole thing - just a little will do!

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

[evieonic]

One True Weakness (Published March 17, 2021)

I am. On episode two. There is a reason why this fandom is NOT LISTED AND YET- HERE WE ARE-

I-

IF IT’S OOC YOU’LL KNOW WHY ANYWAY TAKE THIS!

Also please note that Yuuji is aged up, he’s an adult, he is not a child, I repeat he is aged up.

One True Weakness (Published: March/17/2021)

      Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji

      Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

     Trigger Warning: None.

      Length: 922 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

       Summary: It was a battle, a fight, they were trying to kill each other.

But then Sukuna's long black nails grazed Yuuji's neck... 

And the poor boy snorted revealing his one true weakness. He was ticklish.

OR: Sukuna discovers how ticklish Yuuji is and stops their fight because he's found new entertainment in seeing Yuuji laugh.

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

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

        If you asked Sukuna or Yuuji how they got into this position, neither would really know how to answer. It started with them fighting inside of Sukuna’s domain with the Curse winning. He had gotten Yuuji flat on his back, slamming himself down onto his knees, straddling the human over his hips. 

        He snarled and Yuuji had tried to thrown him off but before he could, Sukuna went for his throat, his long nails grazing his neck before...

        Yuuji snorted.

Yuuji. Snorted.

        What-

“Did you just-”

        “No!!” Yuuji said defensively, “I did not- get off of me!”

Sukuna could not believe what had just happened. They were fighting like enemies, there was nothing friendly nor playful about it, they were trying to kill each other and yet just grazing his nails against the adult male’s neck, he had snorted.

        Experimentally, Sukuna glided his nails over the smooth surface of his neck, fluttering them underneath his chin and watched as Yuuji’s eyes crinkled and a giggle came from his lips. Now Sukuna was using both hands.

        So the little one was ticklish.

“Nooohohoahaha!” Yuuji’s whine fading off into a giggle as he squirmed, “st-staahahahaap! Stop! Pleeease- nnghahahaha!” 

        “I should’ve known,” Sukuna said, his voice practically dripping with the smirk he was wearing, “such a child-like person as yourself would be so ticklish here.”

        “Oi, I’m not a child!” Yuuji managed to say, glaring at Sukuna since he pulled his hands away from his sensitive neck, “I’m an adult and I- PFFAHAAHA!”

        He burst out of laughing, his back arching up as Sukuna attacked his sides, squeezing and digging his fingers into the nerves there. “No! No! Hahaha! Nooahaha!” He laughed, wheezing as Sukuna only applied more pressure.

        The battle before was lost, nothing but a memory now as Sukuna found new entertainment in watching Yuuji’s face erupt with glee, his melodic laughter echoing throughout his domain as he tickled him.

        “Oooh~” Sukuna purred, a wicked grin on his face as he continued his minitrasions, “I think i found your weak spot.”

        “Noo!” Yuuji whined again, tears pooling in his eyes as he tried to glare at Sukuna but failed, only looking adorable rather than intimidating, “I- pfffteehehehe- have no weak- ahahaha! we-weakness!”

        “Sorry,” Sukuna said, now moving his attack further up Yuuji’s ribs, “can’t quite understand you, kitten~”

        A blush dusted Yuuji’s cheeks, making him look ten times more cuter as he laughed, squirming like a worm as Sukuna attacked him. His laughter and smile was infectious. Sukuna may be the King of Curses, evil and vile, cruel and cold, but Yuuji’s pure, innocent laugh, his grin...

        Sukuna couldn’t help but radiate the same glow Yuuji had. 

“If you beg, I just might let you go~” Sukuna chuckled, his attack now moving to Yuuji’s armpits which caused him to shriek, letting out the loudest laugh Sukuna had heard all night, “oh, is this your weak point? I’ll have to remember that.”

        “Never! Mmmhahahaha!” Yuuji purred out a giggle, his laugh barely audible cause of the lack of air he was able to get. He gasped and panted, he snorted and wheezed, trying to endure the torture but it didn’t take much longer before he was succumbing to Sukuna’s demands. “Fi-Fi-Fineee- ehaha!” he said through his giggles, “no more! Please! Ahahaha! Please!!”

        Sukuna slowed his onslaught and smiled down as Yuuji panted, trying to catch his breath. “Good boy. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

        Yuuji peered up at him, a smile still plastered on his face, his eyes watery with tears. A remaining giggle in his throat escaped him. “You’re mean!”

        “I never said I was nice. In fact, I think you were notified from the very beginning that I’m not nice,” Sukuna said in a casual tone. He had lost the angry, intimidating edge he had before and was basking in the bubbly aura that Yuuji edmitted.

        His smile widened as Yuuji yawned, rubbing his eyes, “do we just- go back to fighting or what?”

        “I don’t think you have the strength,” Sukuna laughed.

“I have the strength!” Yuuji protesting, fisting up at the air. His movement was so lazy and slow, Sukuna could just lean the right and dodge him.

        “Someone’s too sleepy~” He smiled, “just go back to your world and we’ll continue this tomorrow.”

        “No!” Yuuji pouted, “I have to fight you- Pfffftnnghahaa!”

Sukuna interrupted him by tickling at his neck, “you either go to bed or I continue tickling you, your choice.”

        “You’re so mean!”

“I am giving you a choice to rest and prepare for our next battle,” Sukuna said, rolling his eyes, “that seems rather merciful and kind to me.”

        Yuuji only stuck out his tongue at the king above him, his eyes tired and his body relaxed. It was a strange comforting feeling that they both shared instead of being at each other’s throats like usual. It was... nice. 

        But Sukuna didn’t like the fluttering in his heart and allowed himself to become stern again. “Now go,” he said, his voice low, watching as Yuuji’s eyes widened a bit from the sudden change of atmosphere. “Get your rest, brat.”

        As sudden as the mood changed, Yuuji was being sent back to his dorm, his back on his bed, laying in the same position as he was before. He had no injuries on himself, he didn’t hurt or ache anywhere. His room was exactly the same as he left it. 

        But there was one thing different now.

And Yuuji didn’t know how to feel about it.

-----------

Yes, I’m aware the ending sucks, i’m sorry ; - ;

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #itadori yuuji #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jjk yuuji #sukuita #sukuna x yuuji #yuuji is aged up #tickle fic #fluff #sukuna is a little shit btw #and bad at feelings #but it's fiiiine