#even the ones i haven’t spoken to in years

[gotham--fc]

Rivals - A Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: Jessie and R both play at UCLA but R plays for the US national team and the media invents a rivalry between them, both Jessie and R get annoyed at being constantly asked about their 'rivalry', they both talk to each other about it and confess their feelings

A/N: I will probably even less active than I am now (if that's possible) I just started school again and I'm very stressed and booked n busy

“So Jessie,” The reporter began. Jessie looked over to where she heard him speak. “You’re about to start at UCLA after these Olympics, and I’m sure you know, but American player Y/N Y/L/N committed to UCLA as well. Do you think your rivalry with her will effect team dynamics at UCLA?”

Jessie really hated media. She was an introvert at heart and if she had it her way, the media wouldn’t be allowed with 500 feet of the team after a game. They weren’t even scheduled to play the US this tournament unless they both made the finals. Still, all they want to ask is about Jessie’s ‘rivalry’ with Y/N. Jessie doesn’t have a rivalry with anyone, and she hasn’t met Y/N off the field even once. They don’t even really interact on the field when they do play, so Jessie has no idea where the ‘rivalry’ theory came from. Except that they’re both the youngest members of their teams, the same age, both midfielders.

“I don’t think that’s going to effect the team at all,” Jessie says, “I have nothing but respect for her as a player and I think she’s a really strong midfielder and she’s very skilled, so I’m confident that we’re both going to play important roles at UCLA and I’m just excited to get started.”

“You might end up facing the US in the finals, the US obviously are the reigning gold medalists, is that something you and the team are thinking about?”

“Not really,” Jessie said honestly, “That’s not our focus right now because nothing is guaranteed, so our focus right now is on our next game. We put ourselves in a good spot coming out of the group stage, uh, in first place, so we’re just focused on the quarterfinal games.”

***

“Y/N, your focus is obviously on winning gold, but can I ask how you’re feeling about joining UCLA this fall?”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, “I’m thrilled to be joining UCLA and I’m excited to further my development as a player and hopefully help the team win a championship.”

Y/N doesn’t really understand why they always ask her to do media. She doesn’t believe anyone really wants to hear from her over some of the vets. But still, here she is, trying not to pull her hair out at these stupid questions.

“Jessie Fleming is also joining UCLA this year, have you spoken to her at all? We know you two have a sort of on field rivalry, have you spoken to her about the both of you joining UCLA?”

“No, we’ve never really crossed paths outside the field, so I haven’t spoken to her. She’s a great player, though, and I think she’ll be an important part of the team at UCLA.”

***

A lot of the players at UCLA are roommates. Even the freshman in their dorms tend to get paired up with someone from the team.  Jessie ends up rooming with Teagan Micah, a keeper from Australia. Jessie likes her, she’s funny, and she’s pretty outgoing, so she drags Jessie along to frosh week activities and Jessie knows if she was left alone she would’ve spent the entirety of her first weeks at school either in class, at practice, or at home.

They have their first practice pretty soon after they move in, since the season starts up right away. The first practice is mostly getting to know each other and the coaches and the style of play they want. It’s different than how Canada plays, so it takes Jessie a second to adjust.

After practice, one of the senior girls calls the team over. She invites everyone to a team bonding night at her place that night.

Jessie gets ready in her dorm with Teagan. Jessie wants to leave so they’ll arrive a bit early, but Teagan just laughs at her, and tells her if a party starts at 8pm, people won’t arrive until 9pm. Jessie wants to say it’s not a party, it’s just for the team to get to know each other, but she doesn’t.

Turns out, it’s a party.

Not only is the soccer team there, but so is the basketball team, the football team, teams that Jessie can’t recognize. She stays near Teagan most of the night, not feeling the most comfortable with the loud music, the drinking, the number of people crammed in a tiny living room. Jessie loses track of Teagan after someone bumps into her, then someone steps in between her and Teagan. Instead of continuing to struggle through people to find Teagan, Jessie goes into the kitchen which is mercifully less full.

Jessie grabs a clean cup and fills it with water from the sink. She hears a commotion and turns, seeing Y/N with a small group enter the kitchen. They make eye contact, and Jessie waves. Y/N nods in acknowledgement. The group begins yelling about shots, and Jessie takes that as her cue to leave. She tries to find Teagan, but it’s impossible, and instead she finds Hallie Mace.

“Hallie!” Jessie yells over the music, “Can you tell Teagan I left? In case she wonders where I went?”

“Yeah, sure Jessie,” Hallie says, “Are you having fun?”

Jessie smiles and nods, and she knows it looks forced, but it satisfies Hallie, who Jessie figures is a little tipsy.

Jessie makes her way outside and walks home, the cool air a relief after how hot it was inside.

Jessie is asleep by the time Teagan comes home, and either Teagan was really quiet, or Jessie was really asleep, because Jessie didn’t hear her come in. The only sign that Teagan did come home is Teagan sleeping in her bed in the clothes she wore last night, hair sticking up in all directions. Jessie sets some Gatorade and Advil on the nightstand for her before she leaves for class.

***

It’s not that Y/N is intentionally avoiding Jessie.

There is truly no bad blood or actual rivalry or whatever people want to believe. It’s just that there’s not much overlap between them except on the field. They’re not in the same program, so they don’t share classes together, they don’t really share the same friends, outside the team. Y/N is friends with the people in her class, other student athletes, and Jessie is friends with people from her classes, and the soccer team. Y/N doesn’t even really notice it, until the online comments start.

It starts with a clip from one of their games. Jessie and Y/N were both on the bench, after being subbed out, and Jessie sat after grabbing water and her pinny, and Y/N stayed standing.

omg they haaate each other

they won’t even sit together its so over

LMAO Y/N really can’t stand Canadians there’s miles of space on that bench to sit and she STANDS???

Y/N frowns when she sees it. It wasn’t intentional, she wasn’t not sitting because she didn’t want to sit with Jessie. She prefers standing for a bit after she’s subbed out. It’s a mini cool down, and she likes bringing her heartrate down before she sits and fully relaxes.

Then it’s the clip from the Olympics, when Y/N said she doesn’t talk to Jessie. All Y/N meant by that is that they hadn’t crossed paths, through no fault of theirs, it’s just how things happened. Of course, everyone decided she meant that she refuses to talk to Jessie.

There’s rumours on campus about a bad fight the two had, about how they played against each other with their national teams and after they got into it off the field. Another lie, because they’ve truly never encountered each other after a game. Still, some of Y/N’s new friends ask her about it, ask her what Jessie did, what really went down. Y/N tells them the same thing each time, nothing happened, there’s no hatred or rivalry, they’re simply two people whose lives don’t really overlap and that’s all there is.

***

USA and Canada don’t even play each other at the next FIFA window. The US plays in the SheBelieves Cup and Canada plays in the Algarve Cup. All Jessie wants to do is focus on the games. She can’t, however, because the first media appearance she does, the first question is about Y/N.

“She’s a great player,” Jessie says, “She brings a lot to the team and I’m happy that for most of the time she’s on my team and not playing against me.”

It doesn’t help that her teammates bother her about it too.

“How is it really?” Janine asks, “Does the team have to build a barrier between you guys?”

“Janine,” Jessie sighs, “We don’t hate each other. We’re literally normal teammates.”

“Oh, come on, you won’t even tell me the juicy details?” Janine whines, “I’m your best friend!”

“Beckie, leave her alone,” Sophie Schmidt says. Jessie almost thanks Sophie, then Sophie keeps talking. “Jessie doesn’t want to spend her rare time away from her enemy thinking about her.”

“She’s not my enemy!” Jessie snaps, “You guys suck.”

***

“Sooooo…” Kelley slides in next to Y/N at the lunch table. “How are things at school?”

“Good?” Y/N says, “Why?”

“I’m just wondering!” Kelley says, “I want to make sure you’re handling things, you know, balancing school with soccer, all those things.”

“Yeah, it’s good. I’m good.”

“Aaand the team is good?”

“Why are you being so weird?” Y/N says.

“I’m not! Alex, am I being weird?” Kelley yells over at Alex across the room.

“You usually are,” Alex comes over and joins them at the table, “What are you being weird about now Kel?”

“I’m just asking her how school is!” Kelley insists. Alex rolls her eyes.

“Kelley wants to ask how Jessie Fleming is, but she’s trying to be subtle about it.”

“Alex!”

“Jessie is fine,” Y/N interrupts before the two can start bickering.

“Do you guys get along?” Kelley asks.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Y/N sighs, “Are you seriously talking about that stupid rivalry thing? That’s just a bunch of BS.”

“Do you guys hang out? Are you friends?”

“Oh my god,” Y/N groans, “Can’t I eat without everyone bringing up Jessie? They’re not even in the same tournament as us, can I not get a fucking break?”

Kelley and Alex share a look.

***

It only gets worse from there. As Canada and the US start playing each other more, and the longer Jessie and Y/N play together at UCLA, and seemingly don’t get along, the more they get asked about it, the more comments are made online, the more frustrated Y/N gets.

Y/N sludges through the mud on her way to practice. It’s been unexpectedly rainy the past few days. Y/N thought LA was supposed to be hot and sunny all year round, and she thought she would spend her days basking in the sun, wearing suntan lotion and getting tan, not stepping in mud and puddles. When she gets to the field, she’s surprised the only other person there is Jessie.

“Am I really late or really early?” Y/N asks.

“I was asking myself the same thing,” Jessie says, “I’m always early but usually the coaches are already here.”

Y/N sets her bag down on the least muddy spot, and shakes her head.

“I thought LA was supposed to be sunny,” Y/N says. Jessie laughs.

“The rain is actually a relief for me,” Jessie says, “There’s not this much sun in Canada, I’m not used to it.”

Y/N laughs. Of course the Canadian likes the rain.

“I’m not surprised no one else showed up,” Y/N says, “The field is a bit waterlogged.” Y/N points down at her feet, her cleats sunk an inch into the mud.

“You can leave if you want,” Jessie says, “I’m gonna stay and run around for a bit, but you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get out of the mud.”

Y/N considers it. She would really like to go back to her dorm and take a hot shower. But she thinks of Jessie, here all alone, and she can’t leave.

“No, I’ll stay, might as well get some work in for the game this weekend.”

Y/N thinks Jessie means she’s going to stay and run drills, so Y/N waits for her to be ready to warm up. She’s too focused on the way her cleats are getting caked in mud to notice the mischievous smile on Jessie’s face. Y/N gasps and jumps back as a wad of mud hits her chest. She looks at Jessie who’s laughing.

“Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N pounces before Jessie can run, tackling her into the mud. They roll around until they’re both covered in mud and laughing so hard their sides hurt. They run around, trying to push each other into puddles. After a bit, Y/N suggests they play 1 on 1 against each other to ‘see who’s really the better midfielder’. They go back and forth a bit, and the score remains even, both equally matched. It goes until Jessie’s up by one, having stripped the ball from Y/N on defense. Jessie dribbles up to Y/N and Y/N knows immediately that she made a mistake, committing too far one way and Jessie easily goes the other. She does it without thinking, one second watching Jessie cut the other way and the next she has her arms around Jessie’s waist, pulling her back until the two of them are tripping backwards into the mud.

Jessie sputters, mouth gaping open.

“That’s a foul! That’s a red!”

“There’s no refs!” Y/N says, “No refs, no rules! We’re tied again, you didn’t get past me.”

“We are not tied! That doesn’t count!” Jessie says, “I had you beat! I fooled you so bad you had to foul me to stop me!”

“What foul? I didn’t hear a foul call,” Y/N knows she’s being annoying, but she refuses to concede the point. “The rules were you had to get past me, and you didn’t get past me. You lost the ball, therefore, my point.”

“You little…”

Before Y/N can react, Jessie is up and running to the ball. She starts dribbling it away from Y/N.

“There! I recovered the ball and got past you! My point!”

“Get back here!” Y/N chases after her.

Y/N runs after Jessie, yelling the whole time, with Jessie yelling back at her. Y/N almost has her, has her fingers in Jessie’s jersey, ready to give it a tug back, and she startles to a stop when a voice rings out.

“You know practice was canceled today, right?” Teagan stands on the edge of the field.

“We sort of figured that,” Y/N says, out of breath.

“Are the two of you going to clean up before team dinner, or is being covered in the mud the new style?”

“I forgot about dinner,” Jessie says, “We should go shower. It’s going to take a while to get all this mud off.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N yells after them as they walk away.

***

They don’t necessarily start hanging out after that. They still exist in different circles, but it’s more like they partner up in practice, or sit together at team meals, or Y/N plops into the seat behind Jessie on the bus.

Comments start to swirl again after one of their games against USC. USC is one of their biggest rivals and the stands are always packed, each team fighting for a win. UCLA pulled out the win, thanks to a goal from Jessie. Jessie gets pulled into an on field interview after the game and Y/N sneaks up behind her and dumps her almost full Gatorade on Jessie’s head.

“I’ll get you back for that!” Jessie yells, before clearly remembering she’s in the middle of an interview. “Sorry,” Jessie says, “What was the question?”

The clip circulates, people asking if they’ve squashed their beef, if it’s all for show, or if they’re really friends. Y/N rolls her eyes at all the comments.

They end up playing against each other with their national teams in a friendly. While in the tunnel waiting to head out on the field, Y/N finds where Jessie’s standing in line.

“Psst, Fleming,” Y/N gets her attention, “Can I get your jersey after the game?”

“Sure,” Jessie says, “But I don’t want yours. I’d rather die than wear American colours.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Jessie, but smiles when Jessie has to turn away to keep from laughing. She catches Kelley staring at her, raising her eyebrows. What? Y/N mouths at her. Kelley raises her arms in surrender and focuses back at the front.

After the game Y/N and Jessie meet in the middle of the field. Y/N already has her jersey off. She holds it out to Jessie.

“The whole point of a jersey swap is the swapping of jerseys, now give.”

Jessie rolls her eyes and pulls off her jersey, handing it to Y/N. They put on the others jersey and Jessie makes a face.

“This feels illegal.”

“Let’s take a photo,” Y/N drags Jessie over to the nearest photographer. She’s more than happy to get one of the two of them in each other’s jerseys and promises to send it to both of them.

***

After the game, a lot of the teams plan to meet up since a lot of them are friends and teammates on their club teams. Jessie isn’t 21 yet, and she really doesn’t know anyone on the US team very well, so she stays behind. She should probably do some homework anyway.

Jessie’s finished showering and doing her post game routine and about to pull out her textbooks, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey,” Y/N says when Jessie opens the door, “Everyone’s out drinking, except us it seems. Wanna hang?”

Y/N doesn’t wait for an answer before she pushes into the room and flops on the closest bed.

“That’s Janine’s bed,” Jessie says as she closes the door. Y/N groans and moves to the other bed.

“It’s so lame being under 21,” Y/N says, “Everyone ditches us to go to bars and stuff.”

“I don’t like bars anyway,” Jessie says, “I’d rather stay in.”

“I don’t mind staying in, I guess, I like hanging out with you, I’ll skip the bar if you’re here.”

Jessie doesn’t answer, looking away before Y/N can see how her cheeks grow red.

“Did you see this?” Y/N turns her phone to Jessie, “People are going crazy over the picture of us from the game. They’re trying to prove it’s a PR stunt since we tooootally hate each other.”

“All that rivalry stuff is pretty stupid. There was never anything to it.”

“You know everyone wants to create drama when there isn’t any.”

“I never…” Jessie turns to look at the wall, talking quietly, “I never had any problem with you, even before we became friends. I hated the rivalry crap. I always thought… I thought you were cool and I wanted to talk to you, but I thought you might’ve really hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Y/N says, “Jess.” Jessie hears Y/N shifting on the bed and Y/N gently grabs Jessie’s shoulder and turns Jessie to face her. “I didn’t hate you, I thought you were cool too. You’re such a good player and everyone liked you so much. I didn’t know what to say to you.”

“I don’t think I’m that cool,” Jessie mutters.

“You’re way cool!” Y/N says, “You’re one of the best midfielders in the world and you’re still in college! And your photography stuff is really good, and everyone likes you, and, I think you’re really awesome Jess.”

Jessie feels like she might cry, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want Y/N to see her cry, she doesn’t want to try to explain why a few nice words from Y/N are making her cry. She panics, because she can feel the tears coming and she doesn’t know how to stop it. Y/N is looking at her intently, and Jessie stops thinking. Before she knows it, her lips are on Y/N’s. She pulls back almost as quickly as she leaned in.

“I’m so sorry,” Jessie says. She feels like she might cry even more now.

“Oh,” Y/N breathes, “Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“I’m so sorry. I get it if you don’t want hang out with me anymore. I’m so sorry.”

Jessie keeps apologizing, not able to do anything else. She’s expecting Y/N to slap her, or to just walk out of the room and never talk to her again. She wonders how easy it is to transfer schools, she doesn’t want to leave UCLA, but she doesn’t know if she can face Y/N again. Lost in her thoughts, she freezes when Y/N kisses her again.

“Sorry,” Y/N says, “But I didn’t know how else to get to you to stop apologizing. I’m not mad, I like you too. I didn’t think you liked me back, so I didn’t say anything. I like you, Jess.”

“Really?” Jessie asks, “You… you like me?” Y/N nods. “I-I like you too,” Jessie says shyly.

Jessie covers her face and falls back on the bed. Y/N laughs and follows her. When Jessie uncovers her face, Y/N is facing her, looking at her with a soft smile on her face. Jessie takes a deep breath and works up her nerve. She reaches a hand out and slides her hand over Y/N’s. Y/N grins and laces their fingers together. Hours later, they fall asleep like that, hands clasped between them, and Jessie wakes up to the sound of a camera shutter.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Janine whispers, “I felt like we needed photo evidence of this moment.”

“Please don’t post that anywhere,” Jessie says, and she rolls over and falls back asleep.

[ninjatrashpanda]

I'm Falling Apart (You Hold Me Together)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2. Today's prompt is "Supportive Boyfriends!"

Read on AO3 here!

“Babe?”

Tommy blinked at his phone. He was aware of Evan’s voice, but it sounded dull to his ears, as if he was underwater. The screen had gone dark by now, but his mother’s words still ran through his mind, making his chest feel tight, as if he was wearing a corset that was two numbers too small.

“Tommy,” Evan’s voice rang up again, clearer now, definitely closer, but still muffled. Tommy could hear his blood rushing through his ears, sounding like a waterfall crashing down into the depths. A sharp pain started in his chest, almost as if he’d been stabbed right through the heart, and spread out into every inch of his body, from the tips of his toes to the top of his temples.

“Tommy, please talk to me.”

Why did this-? He hadn’t even-! He shouldn’t-!

“Tommy!”

Tommy’s head snapped over to look at Evan, who had knelt down next to him. Blinking, Tommy looked around himself. He hadn’t realized that he had dropped down to the floor, where he sat hugging his legs, the cold, hard wall of his living room at his back. His breath hitched as he took in his surroundings, but his vision blurred, turning everything around him into a bizarre mosaic. The soft hum of the refrigerator from the next room over, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, everything felt too loud, too close. He tried to focus on Evan’s face, but that proved difficult when it seemed to melt away a bit more every time Tommy blinked.

Tommy could feel Evan’s hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. He could feel the weight of that touch, solid and real, but it did nothing to anchor him. He was falling, deeper and faster, only waiting to finally hit the ground and shatter. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and scratchy like sandpaper.

"Tommy, what happened?" Evan’s voice started to cut through the fog in his head, slowly clearing it away, bit by bit. "You're scaring me."

Tommy tried to speak, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He swallowed again, forcing himself to breathe slowly, methodically, like he’d learned to do whenever his anxiety threatened to swallow him whole. One breath in. Hold. One breath out. But it wasn’t working this time. The panic clung to him, refusing to let go.

“I… It’s…” he managed to choke out before a strangled sob broke through out of his throat, making his entire body shake. His eyes practically erupted in tears Tommy didn’t understand, but couldn’t hold back either. “My Dad. My Dad died.”

Evan’s face immediately shifted, his expression falling. Without hesitation, he pulled Tommy into a tight embrace, holding him as if Tommy would actually fall apart if he didn’t. Tommy’s sobs grew louder, raw and ragged, and he turned to bury his face in Evan’s shoulder. His body trembled violently, each shudder sending a fresh wave of pain he couldn’t make sense of through him.

“I haven’t talked to him in…in ten years,” he managed to grit out through his teeth. “He was awful! I hate him! Why am I…?”

Evan held Tommy even tighter, his grip firm but gentle, almost as if he was holding a baby. He stroked Tommy’s back in slow, soothing circles, murmuring soft words that Tommy couldn’t quite catch, but it didn’t really matter. Just knowing that Evan was here, that he was with him, made Tommy’s heart lighter, even with his everything being turmoil.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, a tangled mess of resentment, past wounds opening up again, and a strange sense of grief that Tommy didn’t want to feel. His father’s face flashed in his mind, sharp and clear, then faded into the vague, blurry images of his youth he’d thought he had worked past, but apparently hadn’t. Harsh words and cold stares pushed themselves into his head, while his skin started to ache from the punches and belt strikes he’d received decades ago. Tommy had spoken to his therapist about all of it countless times, had untangled the whole mess as best as he could. He had been under the impression that his father didn’t have any power over him anymore. But now, all of it came rushing back, Dad was just as powerful as he’d always been, and Tommy felt like he was ten years old again.

Evan’s voice broke through the cacophony, soft but insistent. “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay to feel this way. Even if he hurt you. Even if you think you shouldn’t care. He was still your father, and it’s okay.”

Tommy knew that Evan was right, but he didn’t want to hear it. He hated his father. He had vowed years ago to never talk, never think about him again. He shouldn’t care that the son of a bitch was dead. But he couldn’t deny the small, painful ache that was rocking his body to the core.

“I hate him,” Tommy whispered again, his voice cracking slightly. “I hate him so much, Evan. He never…he never apologized, never cared, never said he regrets what he did. I should be happy he’s finally gone; I don’t want to cry for him.”

Evan pulled back slightly, just enough to look Tommy in the eyes. His gaze was steady, understanding in a way Tommy still wasn’t really used to. “You’re crying because it hurts,” Evan said softly. “And it’s okay to hurt, even for someone who doesn’t deserve it. It’s okay to grieve the things you never got to have with him. It’s okay to still love him, no matter how little sense it might make. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And it's okay.”

Tommy nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he fully understood or even believed Evan’s words. But there was something in Evan’s eyes, a silent promise to never leave him alone, that made Tommy feel just a little less lost. He let out a shaky breath, trying to mimic the steady rhythm of Evan’s breathing, trying to calm down whatever storm was raging inside his chest.

“I just… I thought I was done with him,” Tommy admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I moved on, you know? But now it’s like… everything’s back. All the shit he said, all the times he hit me. Fucking asshole let me join the military when I was seventeen, what fucking parent does that?! And now he’s gone, and I never got to ask him ‘Why?’”

Evan’s expression softened even more, and he let out a gentle hum, one of his hands wandering up to card his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “That’s the hardest part,” he said quietly. “Not getting the closure you need. Not getting the answers. And maybe… maybe you never will. But you don’t have to do this alone, Tommy. You’ve got me, and we’ll get through this together.”

Tommy nodded again, his grip on Evan tightening. The tears kept coming, but they weren’t a rousing waterfall anymore. He didn’t know how to make peace with his father’s death, didn’t know how to reconcile the decades-long hatred and hurt with the explosion of grief in his chest. But as he sat there, cocooned in Evan’s embrace, he allowed himself to just feel it all, every messy, conflicting emotion.

For a while, they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the silence fill the space between them. Evan’s hand never stopped its soothing motion through Tommy’s hair, a gentle reminder that he was here, and that he would never leave. Eventually, Tommy’s sobs subsided into soft, uneven breaths, and he pulled back slightly, wiping at his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand.

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled, his voice hoarse from crying. “I didn’t mean to…to fall apart like that.”

Evan shook his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “You don’t have to apologize, not to me. You can fall apart all you need to. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from the pain. He didn’t deserve Evan. Evan was so unapologetically kind, and gentle, and good, and with everything Tommy had done in the past…Evan could do better. But he had chosen Tommy, something that Tommy had vowed to never take for granted.

“Thank you,” Tommy whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Evan squeezed back, his thumb gently rubbing over Tommy’s knuckles. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out together, one step at a time.”

Tommy nodded, a small, fragile smile finally tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, a tiny spark of hope in the midst of the overwhelming darkness. And as he sat there, holding onto Evan’s hand like a lifeline, Tommy allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe, somehow, he’d be okay.

[taluvi-does-stupid-things]

guess it’s getting emotional over your friends hour again

[deadandphilgames]

oversharing in the tags time :)

[autistic-katara]

i should ask my grandma or my mum for my cousins’ numbers

[zaddyazula]

i remember when i was younger my best friend at the time who i’d been friends with since i was 3 repeated the ‘i wanna ruin our friendship we should be lovers instead’ song to me and i thought she was being serious and i freaked out. turns out we were both faggots.

[cinewhore]

told my brother how stressed i was looking for an apartment and he offered to fly down and make sure everything goes ok

[writingpostmidnight]

i am so fucking mad at my mom

[fingertipsmp3]

I am once again asking why everything I do leads to me having the weirdest problem ever known to man

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know what i hate about being the Forever Single Friend™️/ Stubbornly Single Friend/Can’t Ever Be Fucked To Date Friend while everyone else is in serious long term relationships and/or getting engaged and married….. is that all i seem to get is a “hope you’re going well” and no actual other conversations around “hey how was your day” because everyone is just too caught up with their partners and life etc.

so i never have shit to say at work about “hey what did you do this weekend?” bc i have no one to do shit with. and this is besides the point that nearly all of my friends have moved away to either sydney or another part of nsw or another state. so it’s like where the fuck are my friends and why don’t they check up on me more often than my birthday every year or every few months???

like i don’t even get facetime calls from some of them who facetime each other. not that i really want to be FT’ed often. but still. like. why don’t they even text me and tell me their numbers??? it’s so fucking weird being forever single™️ in your 20s while all your friends are almost obsessed with their partners to the point that they forget that you exist.

like it’s no wonder that so many single people feel so lonely when all their friends are so involved with their significant others… that they then feel like they have to treat dating like a chore and a burden; just to throw themselves at anyone at all, just so they can feel any semblance of being seen and being talked to regularly. but then again, i do love being the forever single etc friend bc it means i’m NOT wasting time being treated like shit by the late 20s dudes that are left on the market; who always want to “take things casually” or whatever the fuck….. so that you’re never a priority and always have to fight not to be treated as some type of plaything for them to use and fuck and then dump when they get bored.

but yeah. my point is that it sucks being that friend when everyone is in relationships bc you’re just completely forgotten about in lieu of everyone’s partners and all the effort they put into them so that you become second or deadset last in being talked to.

[heyitsphoenixx]

.

[painted--constellations]

woke up from an awful dream and i don’t even understand what it was all about

[m1lfandcook1es]

Ranting for a second in the tags on this, don’t mind me

[stardustvx]

my old dance team is getting together today for the first time in six years. i honestly never thought i would see the 12 of us again in the same place because, well life happened and we drifted apart.

but i also never thought we would get together once more, at least in six years, to bury one of us.

[toadtoru]

CLIMB THE MINOTAUR

you’re excited to be chosen as a sacrifice and finally be able to get a proper look at the so-called minotaur. you’re thoroughly disappointed to find out it’s just some tall tattoed guy with four arms.

pairing: trueform sukuna x sacrifice f! reader contents: smut, monsterfucking, sukuna has two dicks, virginity loss (sukuna), cervix-fucking, mentions of cannibalism and killing, greek gods and myths, degradation, name-calling (brat, woman, whore) alba’s note: this came to me in a vision and i was compelled to write it. and then it turned way longer than i anticipated. hee hee. wordcount: 4.8k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re known to be peculiar. A little weird.

Growing up in Crete, you’ve always heard the stories of the Minotaur. A giant beast that lives in a labyrinth underneath the palace where King Minos lives.

No one really knows how the beast came to live, but it’s said that one day a big white bull showed up on the beach and nine months later Queen Pasiphae birthed the minotaur.

It’s not something that most dare to say out loud, but when it’s dark out and the bards are drunk enough the real songs come out at the crowded taverns.

Pasiphae, the queen who fucked the bull.

Every year a week-long festival is held where young women and men are sacrificed to the bull. It’s supposed to keep the monster at bay. It has a taste for human flesh. Apparently, the first thing it did when it was cut out of its mother’s womb, was to eat the nurse’s hand.

You know you should be filled with dread that a flesh-eating monster lives just underneath the palace. What’s stopping it from leaving its maze and coming for you?

But you just feel intrigued.

You know that it’s not normal. Other girls your age dream of heroes who slay dragons and save princesses. Yet your dreams are filled with a giant monster with a man’s body and a bull’s head, and you haven’t quite figured out if they’re nightmares or just that; dreams.

When you’re chosen to be sacrificed you can’t tell if the emotions toiling inside you are dread or excitement. Maybe it’s a mix of both?

You’re brought to the palace where you’re put in a dress, much prettier than anything you’ve ever owned. You know everyone expects you to scream and cry. That’s what all the other ones have done.

But you just stay quiet.

It only increases the sneers as you’re paraded around. The sacrificial maiden. Thank her for her humble sacrifice to save us from the hunger of the minotaur.

And when the day comes you’re led down a dark passage in the castle. Further and further and further down until the air turns chilly and the only light is from the torches the soldiers escorting you carry.

The entrance to the maze is surprisingly just a small door. Made of metal, there are several locks on the outside. The guard unlocks them one by one.

“Are you ready?”

It’s the first time any of them have spoken to you. You look at the guard beside you. He smiles and unlocks the chains around your wrist. You’re surprised they even bothered to put them on. You haven’t shown a sign of wanting to escape the entire time.

“I guess,” you reply, watching as the guard in front of you unlocks the last lock. You massage your sore wrists and wince.

“Why are you removing these? Wouldn’t it be easier to let them stay on,” you ask. The guard smiles again. This time it’s more sinister.

“It likes the chase,” he replies. You raise a brow. You wonder how he knows that. No one on the outside of the maze has ever seen the minotaur besides its mother and the handless maid. No one on the inside of the maze has ever lived to tell anyone about their experience.

The guard in front of you scoffs.

“Alright, get in there. I want to go home. Wife’s making chicken stew.” he says. You walk towards the door. The guard opens it. The one behind you swiftly pushes you in.

They go to close the door, but you place yourself between the the small gap before he can. The guards frown.

“Don’t make me push you again,” one of them says.

“At least give me a torch. Can you see how dark it is down here?” you ask. The guards share a look.

“You’re awfully calm for a little girl,”

“I’m not a little girl,” you huff. The guard shrugs. Then he hands you one of their torches.

“Sure. It’ll just make it easier for it to find you,” he says. You move back so they can close the door properly.

It will also make it easier for me to see him.

The door is closed and you look out towards the maze. Apart from the little light your torch provides, it’s pitch black. All you can see is stonewalls. You give the door behind you one last look.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to go,” you mutter, as you walk further into the maze. You have no idea if you’ve walked for hours or minutes. Everywhere is the same, stone, stone, stone. You take turn after turn, keeping your hand against the wall on your right side.

You listen as closely as you can, after hooves on the floor or grunts coming, but the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the slow crackle of the torch on your left.

Annoyed, you sigh. “Some chase,” you huff as you look around. It’s cold and wet by now, and your dress does nothing to shield you from the chilly air.

That’s when you see it; red eyes staring at you in the darkness. He’s too far away for your torch to illuminate him, but you can see enough, that he’s tall and big. Your breath hitches, but you can hardly react before he moves towards you. You prepare yourself for incoming death, yet you’re excited to finally see the great minotaur. You wonder how big his horns are if they curl–

Wait, what?

You furrow your brows. The shadow moving towards you doesn’t have horns. Instead, it’s a giant man with four arms. He’s strong, with big muscles and scars all over his body, along with black tattoos on his chest and arms and he’s only wearing a pair of ragged pants. Four pairs of ruby eyes glare at you as he opens his mouth, revealing a pair of sharp fangs, ready to rip open your throat.

“You’re not a bull,”

The monster, or rather, man halts. He looks confused, as though he’s not entirely sure what to do.

“You’re just some guy!” you continue, crossing your arms over your chest. “Where’s your bull's head!”

The monster blinks. His arms which were previously reaching out for you, ready to grab you, are now awkwardly hanging down his sides.

“What?” His voice is coarse, as though he hasn’t used it for a long time. “You’re supposed to have horns! A bull's head!” you accuse.

“Who told you that?” he asks, lips turning downward in a growl.

“Everyone!”

“Stupid rumours,”

You stand there for a while, staring at each other. The guy awkwardly rubs his neck with his top left arm. He clearly doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he’s not used to his victims blaming him for not being scary enough. Or animal enough? What exactly you were expecting, he isn’t sure. All he knows is that you’re thoroughly disappointed.

You sigh and walk up to him. You examine his arms, before you look up at his face. He glares at you. You raise your brows.

The guy’s hot. You can’t deny that.

He shakes his head, before turning around and walking away. You watch him go for a bit before you decide to follow him.

“Aren’t you going to eat me or something?” you ask.

“Lost my appetite,” he replies, not looking back towards you. You continue to follow him, your eyes trailing the black tattoos on his back.

“Where are we going?” you ask. The man stops, causing you to collide with his back.

“I’m going home. You’re not going anywhere,” he states, looking down at you over his shoulder. You step back, looking around the passage you’re in. Stones and stones are all you see.

You decide you are going with the man whether he likes it or not. You’d rather do that than spend the night alone in the maze.

He doesn't say anything as you walk to the place he calls home. You’re delighted when you enter a relatively small chamber. There’s not much more than a bed, a kitchen, a dining table and several books lying around. The latter surprises you, but then again, it’s probably kept him from going completely insane. You wonder who taught him how to read. It is not something just anyone can do.

On the table, there’s a sort of stew. It’s still hot, it can hardly have been there for long. He grabs himself a bowl, before handing one to you. You tentatively grab it, suspiciously eyeing the meat.

He rolls his eyes. “Relax. It's rabbit,” he replies, handing you a spoon. You sit down, slightly wide-eyed.

“There are rabbits down here?” you ask and the man nods.

“Animals venture down here all the time. You don’t actually think I can survive from a couple of sacrifices once a year, do you?” he asks.

You stare at the stew. In all honesty, you’d never really given it that much thought. In hindsight, it feels a little stupid. Like you’ve been caught right in your very own net of assumptions.

“What’s your name?” you slowly ask. He stops eating, looking at you. It’s like he considers what to say for a while, before coming to a conclusion.

“Sukuna,” he replies. You hum.

“Sukuna,” you repeat, and Sukuna grunts, eating a spoonful of his stew. You give him your name, but he hardly seems to register it as he shrugs.

You sit like that in silence, both just eating the stew. Once you’re done Sukuna stands up, stretching his arms. You watch with fascination.

“I’m going to bed. It’s late,” he grumbles, before shrugging off his pants.

You gape, staring. Sukuna stands before you, completely naked. Your eyes trail his body, watching his tattoos, leading down, down, down.

No way.

The fucker has two cocks. You swallow, watching the gigantic things between his legs. They’re almost pretty. Wait, are you turned on right now?

“Do you always sleep naked?” you ask, voice coming out smaller than you’d like.

Sukuna grunts. You take that as a yes. He walks past you, lying down on his bed and turning his back to you. You huff.

Is he seriously going to bed right now?

Tentatively, you look around the small chamber. Kitchen, table, bed, books. There’s hardly anything else.

The bed is big enough for two.

You’re not entirely sure what comes over you. Maybe it’s the dull throbbing in your core or the warm stew clouding your mind, but you take off your dress and undergarments and lay down on the bed, slipping under the covers.

Unable to look at Sukuna’s broad back any longer, you turn around, laying on your side. You feel him turning around as well, feeling his breathing against your neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep,”

“In my bed?” You can’t entirely tell if Sukuna’s angry or just exasperated. Maybe it’s a mix of both.

“Do you see any other beds here?”

Sukuna scoffs, but he doesn’t make a move to push you out. You take that as a victory, settling into the bed. Sukuna’s body radiates with heat behind you, almost like a furnace.

You lay like that for a while, wondering how this has all happened. Why hasn’t Sukuna hurt you yet?

“Do you know what I think?” you say after a little thinking.

“No,”

“I think you’re lonely. I think you want someone to care for you,” you say.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sukuna replies. He doesn’t sound at all convinced.

But there has to be a reason as to why he hasn’t killed you yet, right? Don’t monsters get lonely too?

“Is it really? Or is it just human?” you ask.

“I’m not human,”

“Some part of you must be,” you hum. You lay in silence for a while. You inch closer to Sukuna.

“Have you ever been with a girl, Sukuna?” you ask. You must have lost your mind at this point. You can feel his length against your ass and the mere size of the thing makes you drool. He grunts. You move around under the sheets, pretending to get comfortable, but making sure to rub your ass against his cock, feeling it twitch to life. A giant hand finds your hip.

“Stop that,” Sukuna says. He sounds almost... flustered? You sigh. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

“I’ll throw you on the floor,”

“So mean, big guy,”

It’s too late. His cocks are already awake. You can feel them both coming alive against you, slowly growing.

Sukuna takes a shaky breath. You wiggle some more. The hand on your hip doesn’t stop you.

“You’ve never wanted to try? It must be so lonely down here for you,” you say. His hand digs into your skin. You make circular motions. His breaths grow more laboured.

“All alone, with no one to share these cold nights with,” your tone is teasing. You turn around so you’re facing him. Lidded eyes stare back at you.

“Don’t you wanna know what it’s like?”

Sukuna is no idiot. He knows what you mean. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, every instinct in him telling him to just get on top of you and fuck you till his balls are empty.

You infuriate him. Why aren’t you afraid of him? Why aren’t you screaming or crying for help? Running away? Why is your bare body pressed up against him and why is his groin reacting this way? Why do you smell so good?

Why are you so fucking weird?

The only thing that holds him back is his curiosity. How far will you go to get what you want? How weird are you really?

You want it bad. Or you’re just really weird. A hand comes down to stroke his top cock in languid motions. “Come on, Kuna,” you sigh, free hand snaking up around his neck. Your lips ghost his. The sudden use of a nickname makes Sukuna shudder slightly.

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper. Sukuna closes his eyes. You remove your hand from his cock, to grab one of his, bringing it to your sopping core.

“Feel how wet it is,” you whisper. You lashes fan his face as you kiss the corner of his lips. “It’s all for you,”

Sukuna’s brows furrow as you run his fingers through your folds. You are truly dripping. Almost have been since you saw those two cocks. Your mouth salivates at the thought of being fucked silly on them.

Sukuna closes his eyes. You’re about to give up when you feel his thumb rub your clit. You gasp and Sukuna’s eyes shoot open.

“Are you really that desperate?” he asks, almost angrily, as he quickly shifts to be on top of you. One pair of hands on either side of your face, caging you in as his other is on your hip.

His last hand is still cupping your cunt, as he tsks and shakes his head.

“Can’t believe they sent me a whore,” he mutters. With one hand still beside your face, two others grab the back of your thighs and pull them to your chest. You gasp, now completely exposed to him and Sukuna grins.

“I’m not a whore,” you reply, pouting and Sukuna grins, experimentally rubbing his fingers along your folds. You whine as he sticks a finger inside your cunt, curling his digit. Immediately, his finger stretches you out, and Sukuna hums.

He sticks another in, and another, till you feel stuffed. Your hands roam his chest before the hand beside your head grips your wrists and pulls them above your head. You’re utterly helpless; thighs and hands pinned down.

The sloppy sound of your cunt fills the cave as he continues to stretch you open. You whine and moan, attempting to buck your hips up into his chest.

“That feels good, huh? You like being stuffed like this?” Sukuna asks, and you’re not even sure if it’s rhetorical or not. He explores your body with a weird sort of interest that makes your stomach turn with desire. It’s like you're nothing but a toy to him.

“Answer me,”

“Yes,” you whine, throwing your head around. “Feels good,”

Sukuna’s grin widens. Your walls clench down on him as he curls his fingers into your G-spot. A whine is wretched from your throat and Sukuna halts his actions. You gasp for air before he presses again and you moan loudly.

“Fuck,” you say. The corner of Sukuna’s lips turns upward. His cocks are aching between his legs. Dripping precum all over his sheets and your messy cunt. He doesn’t know why his body reacts this way, but it’s not long before he can’t wait anymore, removing his digits and instead aligning his lower cock with your entrance.

He pushes in and you scrunch your eyes shut, pleasure shooting through your body. It’s like you’re on fire. Inch by inch, Sukuna bullies his thick cock into your tight little cunt. You gasp and writhe, but Sukuna’s got you exactly where he’d like.

“Gods,” Sukuna mumbles. He watches where his thick cock spreads you open, your lips obscenely stretched to accommodate his hefty size. It’s so tight and warm and wet, slick dripping out of you and down your ass.

He looks up at your face. Your eyes are still closed, your mouth slightly agape, your face flushed and sweaty. You’re so full you can hardly think.

“Should’ve gone out much sooner.” Sukuna mumbles. With one pair of hands digging into your thighs, folding you in half, another hand finds your chin, angling your face down to where your bodies are connected. His other cock lies on top of your stomach, reaching all the way to your belly button.

“Look at yourself. Do you like being split open by a monster?” he asks and you whine, opening your eyes and watching him enter you. You gasp when you see he’s not even fully in, yet you feel so stuffed already.

“You’re not a m– monster,” you gasp. Your thighs begin to shake at the stretch of it all, but Sukuna pays it no mind. He replies with a grunt, before slamming his hips into yours, fully seathing himself inside. The whine that leaves you is utterly sinful.

Sukuna frowns, feeling the pressure build in his abdomen. You’re so tight. His cock hardly fits inside, and yet you’re still clamping down on him, causing his cock to throb. He’s unable to resist your inviting heat, causing his hips to stutter against yours a couple of times before he comes deep inside you. His cock throbs as he paints your insides white, filling you to the brim. It’s so much that it spills out of your abused little hole.

His brows furrow together as he delivers a few pitiful thrusts. You gasp at the feeling, your hips bucking uselessly.

“Kuna, did you just–“

Before you can finish your sentence, Sukuna pulls out and flips you around, two hands holding your hips in place, as a third one pushes your head into the sheets underneath you. He uses the fourth hand to position himself, before he slams into you with his other cock, immediately fucking his cum deeper into you.

You moan helplessly, as Sukuna fucks you from behind, his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust, making you jolt in pain and pleasure. You grip the sheets underneath you, hot tears rolling down your cheeks, as you’re reduced to a babbling, pleading mess.

It’s all so much; his grip on you is almost bruising, his balls slap against your clit, his hand keeping your head down as another gropes greedy handfuls of your ass.

“Oh my g– gods!” you cry out, and Sukuna only fucks you faster, meaner. The loud squelching of your dripping cunt fills the room, along with Sukuna’s breathy moans and your whines.

“You say you���re not a whore, but you sure take cock like one, huh, brat?” Sukuna says and you cry out.

“So good, Kuna, you’re so good to me,” you gasp and Sukuna rolls his eyes. His other cock begins to feel lonely, he notes. He eyes your sloppy cunt, wondering if she could swallow a second cock as well as the first one. The stretch would be obscene, but he’s beginning to get the vibe that you want him to destroy you. Which is why he pulls out till just his tip is inside; rewarding you with a slap on the ass as you whine in protest; before slowly pushing inside with both cocks.

A string of curses leave you. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, but Sukuna merely smiles back, as he continues to stretch your walls to the max.

“Don’t look at me like that, woman. I can tell you live for this,” he replies, and you sob, because fuck yes you do. He fucks you in shallow thrusts, hissing at how tight you are.

He bullies both his cocks into you till you can barely think. Body pressed into the sheets below you, your hands reach behind to try to push him away, your body jolting forward. Sukuna grunts, before he leans in, wrapping his lower arms around your waist. Another one wraps around your throat as he gropes your tit with the last one. You can feel his hot breath against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as your bodies are completely flush against each other.

It’s completely instinctual as he makes you take everything he has to give. He fucks you like a starved man, hips rutting against yours as his cocks explore every inch of your insides, molding you, ruining you forever. You whimper, eyes rolling back as pain and pleasure shoot through you.

“I’m g– gonna come,” you gasp and Sukuna hums, feeling your walls flutter around him. It’s not long before ecstasy takes over your body as you reach your high, cunt gushing around Sukuna’s two cocks. The way you grow so tight, walls gripping him like a vice, makes Sukuna come soon after you, both cocks painting your walls white. It’s so much that your stomach feels bloated, cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets beneath you in a puddle. You whine, closing your eyes and melting into the sheets as Sukuna retreats from your exhausted body.

“Thank you,” you murmur and Sukuna huffs, shaking his head at your weakened state. He grabs a cloth and begins to clean you before he hears your small snores.

“There’s no way,” he mutters, giving your ass a smack, but you barely move as your snores grow louder. A small grin tugs on Sukuna’s lips.

“Brat.”

You wake the next morning, every muscle in your body sore. Despite that, you notice that you are clean and that the sheets and furs around you have been changed. You look around the room for Sukuna, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Huffing, you attempt to get up, only to wince as you feel how sore your legs and back are. You explore your skin, to find bruises and nail marks where he ravaged you last night. You poke at one, wincing at the pain.

“You’re awake,”

You look up, to see Sukuna appearing through the door. You blink.

“How long did I sleep?”

Sukuna shrugs.

“A long time,”

You pout. Sukuna’s eyes trail down your body, smiling at the marks littering your thighs and neck.

“Did you fuck a bull last night or something?” he asks. You furrow your brows and grab a pillow to throw at him. Sukuna snickers, dodging the pillow.

“Get up,” he says.

“No,” you whine, burying your face in your other pillow. Sukuna doesn’t say anything, but you hear footsteps. You sink further into the bed, hoping that he’ll go away, but you squeal when you feel four hands grab you. Sukuna puts you over his shoulder, one arm securely wrapped around you. You fight in his grasp, kicking your legs and hitting his back.

“Let me down this instance!”

“So demanding,”

He doesn’t seem to care about your objections as he gives your ass a firm slap before walking out of the little cave he calls home.

He walks for a little while, as you huff and puff on his shoulder before you finally reach your destination.

It’s another small cave, but this one has a lake. The water is crystal clear, and you can see the bottom beneath it. It is shallow, hardly going above your waist. Above it, a small waterfall cascades down and the lake connects to a small river. You gasp.

“This is beautiful,”

Sukuna shrugs, before getting in the water. You squeal at the temperature, writhing in Sukuna’s arms, but he keeps you steady as he sits down in the water.

“Stay still, brat, it will soothe your body,” he replies as he submerges both of you. He isn’t lying. The water is cold, but it relieves your sore body, making you feel much better.

He lets you go, and you sit down in the icy water. Sukuna sits beside you. “What happened to the others?” you ask, curiously.

“Who?” Sukuna asks.

“The other sacrifices,” you inquire. Sukuna raises a brow. You consider you might not want to know the answer, but it’s too late now.

“I ate them,” he replies. You gape. Sukuna grins.

He hasn’t actually eaten any. Well, he has eaten some. But most he just killed. But he likes the look on your face.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let them go,” Sukuna shrugs as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world. You wonder if being alone for so long has made him unable to feel real empathy. If the loneliness has just made him a shell of a person.

“There are exits here?” you ask. Let them go. He makes it sound so simple, but the only entrance to the labyrinth is supposed to be the one you came through.

“Yes, several,” Sukuna says. You think your jaw somehow drops lower than it already was. Sukuna isn’t a captive? Does he enjoy being here? You suppose that explains the rabbit stew, although you were too stunned at the moment to investigate when he served it to you.

“The architect who built this labyrinth was a captive himself. He swore to never subject anyone to that same fate.” Sukuna explains when he sees your puzzled expression. Almost as if you’ve opened a fountain, words spill from Sukuna’s lips. He doesn’t think he’s ever spoken this much before.

“He came to visit me quite often. Taught me everything I know,”

You nod. That would explain the reading, the cooking, the having somewhat manners besides undressing in front of you and threatening to throw you off the bed.

“Then he stopped coming one day,” Sukuna says. “I was always an unwanted child.”

The last comes almost as an afterthought, and you wonder if he’s saying it more to himself than to you. How old was he before he was cast into the labyrinth? You can imagine Queen Pasiphae’s scowl on his face, King Minos' bitter words.

That’s not my son.

“He’s dead,” you say. Sukuna’s brows furrow.

“What?”

Everyone in Crete knows the story of Daedalus. Architect and inventor, he was the pride of King Minos, building beautiful ships, looms and other inventions. He’d tried to escape with his son, by building each of them a pair of wax wings.

If only Icarus hadn’t flown too close to the sun.

"It’s Daedalus, right? After his son died, the grief killed him,”

Sukuna nods. There’s a whirlwind in his eyes, a thousand thoughts rolling over his mind. “I figured,”

You sit in silence for a while. Then you move over to straddle Sukuna. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your naked bodies cling together, as a pair of arms tentatively wrap around you.

“What are you doing?” he asks and you giggle. Sukuna feels the vibrations run through his body. “I’m hugging you,” you reply. Sukuna blinks. Slowly he pulls you closer, four arms now wrapped around you. It feels nice, safer than you’ve ever been. You know you should feel disgusted by the man hugging you, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to it. You just feel warm. And sore.

You feel yourself being lifted, as Sukuna rubs his cock against your entrance. “Kuna,” you gasp, three arms still wrapped around you. You look up at him, and Sukuna swears you have stars in your eyes. Slowly, he sinks you down on his cock, revelling in the feeling of how warm you are.

Fuck. It’s like he’s getting addicted to your soft body. He never wants to go without you again.

“You must be a witch,” he groans, beginning to bounce you up and down like you’re his little fucktoy. The fullness makes you dizzy, and you lean into his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The squelching water around you fills the cave along with your little whimpers.

“What the fuck have you done to me, woman?”

i could fix him. (with my pussy)☝🏼😤

i know this isn’t even freaky for tumblr but it’s the first time i’ve posted something like this, so be nice to me. 🥹

also i proof read like three times and i don’t want to anymore so here you go, sorry for any mistakes, i love you.

thank you for reading!

masterlist | divider by plutism

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i am considering something very very stupid