#the b&w experiments continue

[aghostinmyownmachine]

“I’ve been ordered to return to CyberLife.”

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc

[ersatz-introspective]

having a personality disorder (npd for this post specific post) is annoying because all your friends who don't have one, & every therapist who mainly specialises in depression/anxiety/ptsd, will either completely misunderstand through the lens of a different mental health condition, OR think you're blessed in some way. the amt of comments i've gotten on how lucky i am to be narcissistic should be criminalised, guys ....? would you call someone lucky for being autistic if you're allistic? no? cus that's weird? or like, are you lucky for being depressed? no? what about that oh so deep insight you have on life? what about your tormented artist self? you guys see how this is weird?

and the way people will stop caring about me because i have a Good Self-Esteem Anyways & Am Very Confident With Others ??? like suddenly ppl think i don't need praise & recognition?

like yes i feign insecurity for compliments & from an egotypical lens, that's kinda shitty ! from my lens though, it's sometimes necessary for positive response, & i need supply ! bcs unlike an egotypical i will literally die if i don't get recognition

suddenly people don't treat me like i still need help, bcs they believed the very act i put on too much. or they don't understand how i need help, because the way i experience positive & negative things is different. like oh i'm dealing with delusions of grandeur? that must be so cool! except now i'm putting myself in danger bcs i feel like as a diety, i'm immortal. or dealing with a god complex & feeling lonely.

and the worst part is, is that the very fact of being narc makes me always want to be percieved as the best, even amongst friends, so no, i won't tell them if i actually have a fragile self esteem or if i'm crashing. hell, writing fragile self esteem is even hard on This account, where nobody knows me except one person. so yea, i play it up even more. & i'm also stupidly Flattered in the moment by people thinking i'm lucky for this. because i do want to be percieved as having some innate mark that differs me from all the others, that makes me better. & yessss i'm so special & cool for my trauma ehe. Eugh.

[thepinkseashell]

scary things are happening .

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone. 

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure. 

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response. 

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back. 

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either. 

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back. 

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay. 

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead. 

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly. 

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub. 

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone. 

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed. 

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams. 

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.  

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other. 

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. 

He just nods. The ‘why’ of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’. 

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s… 

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing. 

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt. 

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says. 

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him. 

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.” 

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is. 

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

“Good morning,” you say. 

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup. 

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly. 

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life. 

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away. 

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time. 

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change. 

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce. 

“Congratulations,” Joel says. 

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book. 

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done. 

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat. 

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him. 

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder. 

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book. 

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,” he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint. 

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him. 

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you. 

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices. 

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time. 

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen. 

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces. 

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions. 

“How old are you?” 

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you. 

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to. 

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one. 

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask. 

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you. 

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house. 

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke. 

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties. 

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him. 

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too. 

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head. 

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

You pull away briefly and catch your breath. 

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own. 

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context. 

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him. 

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come. 

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile. 

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand. 

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard. 

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says. 

You nod. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up. 

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride. 

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.  

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

His eyes go wide. 

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He���s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

[reignpage]

♛ Sukuna in Wonderland ♛

"W e ' r e a l l m a d h e r e"

Synopsis: a quest to search for a cursed item in a new world isn't all sunshine and rainbows — you're learning that the hard way. you just want to find what you need to find and get out of here asap. but the mystical universe must hate you because you've been paired with the biggest pain your ass: the one person that can show you up on a test or experiment. well, you won't let him get his way this time. But one question...why is everything in this place freaky? Warnings: 18+ porn with plot, fantasy au, Hogwarts-esque magic system, academic rival!sukuna, mixed with some comedy (there's a lot of self-awareness here), forced proximity, hate sex, exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, pussy inspection, personification of the puss puss, dumbification, unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation, voyeurism, sex whilst inebriated - dubcon, doggy, cockwarming, slight food play, anal sex, barely proofread Word Count: 17.2k

“Walk faster,” he spits. 

You roll your eyes.

There is nothing worse than being stuck with Ryomen Sukuna for an inter-dimensional quest. Truly. 

When Professor Yaga had breached the news to you, in his office, your jaw dropped. There was absolutely no conceivable way your Intro to Exploration partner is Sukuna. The man is a monster. Truly. He stole your position on Advanced Illusions by burning your application paper, he tripped you up on the Grand Foyer, humiliating you in front of all your peers, and he calls you ‘princess’ in lieu of your actual name. 

He’s the worst. 

“Y/n, he’s your partner and that’s that,” the Professor said. 

Spluttering, you tried to reason with him. “B-but sir! I’ve been looking forward to this trip the whole year — no, all my life! I worked so hard to accumulate enough points on my Exploration licence. I need someone I can trust. Someone who won’t get in the way.”

Your pleadings were falling into deaf ears. The Professor merely sighed and conjured a journal. It fell onto the wooden desk with a mocking thump. 

“Your petty rivalry ceases here.” Leaning forward on his elbows, he fixed you a steady glare. It was so serious, so insistent, you zipped your lips tight. 

“Underland is a Grade A dimension. A place unlike any other. Everything works differently there, and you will indubitably face tasks so dangerous you will either give up your hopes of studying Exploration altogether or you will emerge as the greatest Exploration pupil I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. But all of that depends on whether you can rise to the occasion with the most difficult of partners.”

“B-but…”

That was nice to hear and all. However, you weren’t convinced. Sure, you had been sure to earn enough points to take on the advanced quests because they looked great on applications, but the ‘Underland’ place didn’t sound like anything special. In fact, when you and the others in your class had been briefed by the students in the year above who had gone through the same trial, you didn’t hear any talks about Underland.

You were worried that the dimension you’ve been assigned to was a dud. Just great. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna to your left was more interested in messing with some first year he had spotted, through the window, crossing the meadow. He was using a basic incantation to make the papers fly out of his satchel and scattering it all over the grass. 

Typical. 

When he sensed your judgmental gaze, he leisurely looked back at you, hooded eyes unimpressed even as he flicks his finger around, ensuring those papers continue to flutter in the air and out of the grasp of that poor first year. And then he raised his brow in challenge and drawled, “See something you like, princess?”

You didn’t dare look at him the whole two hours you were there. 

“As you know very well, much is riding on you providing a great performance and returning with the enchanted item. If you want to do a master’s on Exploration and then go on to become an Explorer of the Great Beyond, you will do your best to put aside your petty grievances with Mr. Ryomen, yes?”

Dejected, you nodded reluctantly. 

“Now, please, exert your energy on seeing through this quest. As you know, grades are awarded based on speed and efficiency, among other things. So do be sure to spend less time arguing with your partner and more time seeking out your assigned item. What was it again?”

In a sullen tone, you answered, “A cursed finger.”

“Ah, yes. An ancient and powerful relic. That was my assigned item many, many years ago now. And the faculty have, once again, gone through great lengths to ensure it’s been carefully hidden in Underland to really challenge our top students, so you’ll have your work cut out for you,” he remarked humorously. 

“Great.”

Seemingly pleased enough, the journal flew into the air, whizzing across the room and out the door. Your time was up, and your fate was decided. 

Halfway out of the door, Professor Yaga gave one last musing. “As wonderful as it is to follow instructions to the letter, I do hope Mr. Ryomen’s innovative thinking will rub off on you, just as your discipline will rub off on him. Let it not be wishful thinking, y/n.”

And now here you are. 

Walking through some forest in a new world, wondering where the hell the portal had placed you. From the description the Student Advisors had given you, Underland was much more colourful and interesting than this. Where are the talking animals and the sentient inanimate objects?

“Are we in the right place?” You ask. 

It’s been quite some time now and you’re ashamed to admit that your calves are burning ever so slightly; you ought to exercise more. On the other hand, Sukuna walks ahead of you, hands shoved in his pockets, and not looking the least bit exhausted. It’s as if you’re on two different journeys — you’re trekking somewhere dangerous, mysterious, a place that’s pushing your body to its limits (more or less), and the arrogant dick is taking a lovely stroll down Genesis Park. 

He doesn’t answer your question. Of course not. Because why would he, the great king that he is, bother talking to you?

Prick. 

“Oh!”

Something furry brushes up against your calf. Two sets of eyes follow it. 

“Is that a fucking rat?”

Giving him a deadpan look, you shove him to the side to run after the strange creature, suddenly invigorated. “You’re such an annoying asshole. Hurry up. It might lead us to Underland.”

It is certainly unlike any animal you’ve seen back home. But, having studied all the known forms animals can take across the expansive universe, you aren’t distressed in the slightest to come across such a well-dressed little fella. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

Jogging beside you, your partner scoffs. “‘Excuse me, sir?’ Seriously?”

Merlin, why did it have to be him? 

The rabbit doesn’t slow down. Even as the two of you have caught up right behind him, weaving and meandering around trees and dodging logs and fallen branches. Instead, the little thing continues ahead, peering occasionally at a pocket-watch and muttering, ‘Oh, dear. Oh, dear,’ repeatedly under its breath. 

“Damn. That is one stressed out rat.”

Rolling your eyes once more, you hiss, “It’s a rabbit, Sukuna. Stop fucking around. Try to catch its attention so we can ask it for directions.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re faster.” To punctuate your point, you pant. It’s a little embarrassing to be out of breath already, but in your defence, you’ve never had the time to join athletic clubs. 

Throwing you a look of judgement, likely because of your sweaty state, he jogs a little faster and manages to pick up the rabbit by its waistcoat. It dangles in the air making a face of complete alarm, and dare you say, insult. Sukuna only returns a look of revulsion. Clearly not a fan of animals. Great. 

“How dare you! Put me down at once.”

Snorting, your partner shakes him around. “Nah. Not until you tell us how to get to Underland.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” the rat— the rabbit mutters. It continues to check its watch in between looking around frantically and attempting to wriggle out of its captor’s grip with no such luck. “Let me go. I cannot be late! The Duchess needs her gloves! Oh! And her fan. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!”

Sukuna fixes you a stare of amusement and says with a smirk, “You didn’t happen to bring dried serenitea powder, did you? ‘Cause this guy could really use some.”

With your lungs full of air once more, you attempt to get somewhere with the local. It’s important that you don’t disrupt the system in any of the places you visit. That’s Section two, Article A of the Harmonious Entry Act. Of course, interacting with the world is permitted but explorers must be respectful at all times. The pink haired guy clearly didn’t get the memo. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n. We’re truly sorry to trouble you. But we really do need directions to Underland so if you could point the way, then we can all go our separate ways.”

The rabbit seems to like you better because he stops wriggling and says, “Oh! I suspect we are heading to the same place. Although we don’t really call it Underland— Oh, never mind. I don’t have time to discuss this any longer. Please put me down and follow me. We must go at once!”

And so, you and your quest partner run with your new friend through the forest and to a large tree. He doesn’t say anything else to you, he simply tumbles faster and adjusts his waistcoat sporadically, long ears twitching in an adorable way. At the tree, there’s a hole. And before you can process what was happening, he’s running inside without so much as a look back. 

“Hey! Wait!”

He doesn’t.

And he’s gone.

The hole is quite big. It’s just about big enough for Sukuna to fit through if he crawls but judging by the look on his face, he’s not exactly eager to get his clothes dirty so soon into the trip. You’re both wearing your uniforms — he wears a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, of course, with a tie and under a lilac jumper, with the deep purple St. Eden blazer hanging off his shoulders. You wear the same on top but with a purple, pink and cream tartan skirt whereas he has on plain cream trousers. 

Being of standard practice, it’s always been important to proudly represent St. Eden on every school sanctioned trip out of its grounds. Sure, it might be wasted on people from worlds that don’t know of St. Eden’s existence, or of any planes of reality beyond their own, but the sentiment is still quite nice. 

You are a student of the finest academy of mystical arts there ever was and there ever will be. The uniform reflects that, which is why you’re just as unenthusiastic about dirtying your clothes as Sukuna is, but you know quite a few enchantments you can use to rid yourself of the inevitable mess; returning to Genesis all filthy would be sufficiently humiliating, after all. 

“Ladies first.” Gulping, you ignore his challenging look, and steel yourself. This is what it means to be an explorer: being dauntless. Anything for the quest, for your dreams and ambitions. 

“Just don’t look up my skirt,” you mutter. 

He scoffs. “Get over yourself. Actually, I’ll go first. Your arrogance is so confounding, I’m irritated.”

If there’s danger in the hole, better he faces it first, you think. So, you don’t fight him on that.

Inside, it’s just as you suspected: a long, hollow tunnel, all dark and seemingly endless. Hearing Sukuna grumble under his breath is quite entertaining, you have to admit. The man was always angry. Even when he was with his friends walking down the hallways, eating in the dining hall, or loitering in the meadows, he was always frowning as if the world had done him some great injustice. 

The only times you ever saw him smile were when he was tormenting someone, whether it be a student, a teacher, or you. 

“Hey, there’s a fucking hole in a hole, watch—“

Shit. 

You bumped your head against his ass. He disappears down a sudden dip in the tunnel. A hole within a hole, just as he said. You grimace, waiting for that telltale thud to echo. It doesn’t. Actually, the only thing you hear is an elongated, ‘you fucking cunt.’

Whoops. 

Trying to stifle your laughter, you fall in headfirst, muttering an enchantment to cushion your fall. Hopefully — or not, either is fine — Sukuna remembered to do the same. 

Oddly, you realise, either this well of sorts is very deep or you’re falling very slowly. Because you find plenty of time to look around your surroundings even with your clothes flying around and you have to hold your skirt down, praying he’s too far down to look up and see something he shouldn’t. The sides of the well are filled with cupboards and bookshelves, there are maps and pictures hung upon pegs. You swear you even see a jar labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’ but it’s empty. 

What is going on?

Who could have possibly hung those up? And why? Was there a larger purpose to it all? It surely can’t be for tourists if none of the displayed items are for sale. There’s no dust you can see so this passage must be used often, just as those books are. 

How big is this planet? Is it small enough to fall right through and end up in an infinite void? No, surely, it’ll get hotter as you near the core, right? You can always drink a protection tonic from your enchanted satchel to be sure, but you don’t want to waste resources. 

You couldn’t find anything about this place in the textbooks. No history, no accounts from other explorers, and certainly nothing about how to actually get into Underland.

Or maybe this isn’t a way in at all!

Maybe the rabbit was so peeved about the indignation he suffered at the hands of Sukuna that he tricked you both. Are people of this land so petty? 

You’ve heard of places where people didn’t lie or harm each other. Why couldn’t Underland be such a place?

Down, down, down you go. There’s nothing else to do but ponder all possibilities. It’s likely you’ve failed the task already. You were rude to a local and now you’re being punished. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. He takes everything from you. He’s even taken this from you. 

“Oh!”

You fall on a huge heap of sticks and dry leaves. The fall is over. Thankfully the enchantment worked well, and you aren’t the least bit hurt. Sukuna stands above you, brushing leaves from his clothes, even more pissed than before. He glares at you. 

“Thanks for literally kissing my ass. Had a great time falling, by the way.” 

Ignoring him, you look around the place. The rabbit’s no longer anywhere to be seen. And you’ve found yourself in a low hall, lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the ceiling. It reminds you somewhat of the halls of St. Eden. There are doors all-round the hall and when you begin muttering a door-opening spell, you’re interrupted by a scoff. 

“Don’t bother. I already checked. They’re all locked.”

“Did you check that, though?”

He follows your pointing finger to a three-legged table at the end of the hallway. Upon closer inspection, you see it’s made of solid glass and there’s nothing on it except a tiny, golden key. Flicking a finger, you lift the key up and attempt to slot it into every lock but to no avail. They were either too large or too small.

“That wasn’t there before” Sukuna asserts, still slightly annoyed. “Neither was that.”

There, a couple metres away, is a curtain, which you agree, wasn’t there before. You know by the tilt of his head that he thinks this place is weird. You’re inclined to agree. Behind the curtain is a door and the key slots in perfectly. You share a smile with him, which drops barely even a second later. He clears his throat. 

Kneeling on the floor, you look through that small door and see a garden. It’s lovely with beds of bright flowers and fountains. It’s not as great as any green space in Genesis but it’s better than this miserable dark hall. 

Sighing, you stand up. “We can’t fit through that. Do you remember any enlargement spells? I didn’t bring a biggening tonic ‘cause the Student Advisors didn’t say to.”

He fixes you a blank stare. Oh, right. He’s not even carrying anything with him. Classic. 

What was he even thinking venturing to a foreign place without any of the recommended items? Not a vial of invisibility, a language-adapting elixir, Grimoire of Spells All Travellers Need Volume I to VI, not even a bottle of water. He’s useless. And to think Professor Yaga genuinely believed he has something to teach you. Please. 

“Quit judging me, prissy princess. I don’t need textbooks. Everything I need is in my head. And in any case, look. There’s something on the table. And it wasn’t there before. What kind of fucked up magic system do they have here? Shit’s just appearing out of nowhere for no goddamn reason.” 

You pay his grumbling no mind.

On the table, is a little bottle. Around its neck is a paper label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ written quite beautifully. And on the back, in small writing, appears to be instructions. “It says, ‘To get out, drink this. Share with your companion.’”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening. If I get food poisoning, I’m gonna kill everyone here.”

Hissing, you argue, “That’s not funny, Sukuna. We have no choice since you didn’t bring anything.”

“Well, then, by all means, go fucking ahead.”

The Explorer’s Guide to Otherworldly Travel advises against consuming food from unfamiliar places. One, they may not sit well in your stomachs, and two, they could be poisoned; not all places deal well with foreign interference. 

Well, anyways, down the hatch it goes.

“Woah, don’t actually drink it, idiot,” he chastises you, but it’s too late. In one pour, it’s in your mouth. All of it. Your eyes are wide. You hadn’t meant to drink the whole thing. Thank Merlin you didn’t swallow immediately. “Good going, idiot. Now what?”

Muffled, you make sounds of panic and attempt to say through a mouthful of the mysterious drink, “Quick. Do something.”

All you see is an eye roll and a frustrated brush of his hair before he smashes his face to yours. You’re taken aback by the feel of his firm hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you still, and even more shocked by the softness of his lips. That softness disappears instantly, however, when his tongue plunges inside your mouth and the drink pools from yours to his. 

He pulls away, swallowing, and sees the wideness of your eyes. Grunting, he mutters something to himself before you feel his tongue lick up the errant drop of juice on your chin. 

Your lips tingle. And then they stop when he hastily wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. 

The drink doesn’t burn and you’re not feeling odd. It tastes quite nice, actually. Like a mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast. Oddly, you want more. 

“Fuck.”

You look up at Sukuna. And you blink. The hall had grown. The table is metres tall and the door to the garden is suddenly big enough to get through. No, wait. You’re smaller. So is he. 

You’ve shrunk. 

“This is weird as hell.”

Sukuna suddenly laughs. And it’s a sound you’re completely repulsed by. You’ve only ever heard him laugh like that when he was making someone’s life miserable, and so to hear it in any other context is off-putting. Especially as your lips continue to tingle.

Silently, you make a note to yourself — drinks in Underland can resemble potions in Genesis, where they have the ability to transform the body into something else. You do wonder, however, how things appear out of nowhere with seemingly no conjurer in sight. Energy is transferred and controlled; it doesn’t have a mind of its own. This place is growing curiouser and curiouser by the minute.

Now, just to get out of this place. 

“Shit. The key.”

Shooting you a mocking look, your quest partner walks ahead to the door and fishes out something from his pocket. “Relax. Wasn’t dumb enough not to hold onto it. Come on. We gotta find that damn finger. And the faster the better. I’m already growing tired of this damn place.”

And out of the darkness you left. 

——————

“We’re lost.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. This place’s all turned around.”

For the past hour, you two had been wandering around yet another forest searching for —well, anything. And nothing is what you’ve stumbled upon. As interesting as the different coloured leaves are, you can’t spend your time appreciating the forage. 

With every passing moment you sense Sukuna getting more and more irritated. He walks a brisk pace ahead of you, and all your attempts to catch up and stroll beside him are ignored in favour of walking faster. You knew the guy couldn’t stand you, but this is just another level. Everything about him is so unprofessional. For one, his shirt is untucked, and his hair is all roughed up and messy. Two, he curses far too often by anyone’s standards. And three, he can’t even pretend to get along with you for the sake of this quest. 

There’s no way you’re going to maintain your perfect record of A’s and it’ll all be because of the arrogant prick. The one consolation you have is that he’s coming down with you on your fall. 

“I can’t sense the finger’s cursed energy at all,” you mutter, slightly anxious. 

He side-eyes you and then shoves his hands in his trousers. “Relax. Quests, on average, take a week to complete. Of course, if we could complete it in much less, that’d be ideal but we’re not in a rush right now.”

“I know that. Don’t mansplain this to me.”

The eye roll he gives you is especially scathing. Typical. You two only ever seemed to look at each other just to exercise your eyes a little. Even when your gazes meet across a lecture hall one would make a face and the other scowls. It’s routine. You’ve long since convinced yourself to not let it bother you, but you won’t lie, many nights have been spent scouring the archives for a spell on how to swap someone’s asshole for their mouth. 

In the distance, there’s a clearing and a house. 

You smack him in the chest. He groans. “I fucking saw it. You didn’t need to hit me, idiot.”

On the door of the neat little house is a bright brass plate with the name “W. Rabbit,” engraved upon it. Sharing a look, you know you’ve both come to the same conclusion: you might just run into a familiar face.

Raising a hand to knock, you hear a scoff before the door’s being spelled open and Sukuna pushes past you. Even in a different dimension, he’s still a bitch. You don’t even bother to tell him off for trespassing, it seems he’d been looking forward to terrorising the inhabitants of this world long before he stepped foot here. 

“You don’t think the professors hid the finger here, do you?”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually replies, “Nah. Too easy. This is a Grade S plane and we’re advanced students. It would never be this straightforward. I reckon they’re trying to lead us around, encouraging us to become one with nature or some shit.”

Can’t argue with that. 

“So why are we here? It’s not like the rabbit’s home; we can’t ask him if he’s noticed anything out of the ordinary recently.”

Admiring the paintings on the wall, Sukuna’s response comes out a little distracted when he says, “We need a map, idiot. We can’t just keep walking everywhere hoping for the best.”

Flustered over him one-upping you, you don’t entertain his callous tone and instead you walk around. The little house is nice. It’s cozy and homely. Somewhat messy and untidy but you aren’t really surprised considered how neurotic the rabbit appeared upon first meeting, the poor thing. 

You find yourself in a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves. This must have been what the rabbit was looking for but if they’re still here that means you beat him to it. Where had he gone that two outsiders would stumble upon his home faster than he would himself?

“What’s this?”

There, near a looking-glass, is a bottle. It’s similar to the one in the hallway with all the doors but this one doesn’t have a label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ and instructions. Guess this one isn’t for drinking. Or maybe it is?

Maybe this is a trick. 

What if the professors had placed these odd concoctions here? It can’t possibly be a coincidence that two drinks would appear all perfectly bottled after all, right?

Biting your lip, you contemplate what to do with it. It’s a terrible risk to take but it could pay off. It’d be great if you could get a leg up over Sukuna, even if you succeed together as partners, if he somehow found the cursed finger before you, you’d never be able to live with yourself. You just can’t let him have any more justifications for his arrogance. 

Fuck it.

Uncorking it, you put the rim to your lips and smell. There’s no immediate suspicious scent, like the bitter smell of poison. That’s a good sign. You know something interesting is sure to happen whenever you drink anything here, so you’ll just have to see what this bottle does. You hope it’ll make you large again, because even though you’ve only just adjusted to the world here, you’re quite tired of being such a tiny little thing. 

Maybe you can even step on Sukuna and pass it off as an accident. 

The thought makes you smile. And without even thinking, you’ve already drunk half the bottle. 

Watching your limbs, you wait for a change to occur. Nothing happens. You haven’t grown taller or shorter. Slightly disappointed, you place the bottle back down and stagger to a window. 

“It’s hot in here,” you mutter. 

You’re a little dizzy and out of breath. It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and when you push the panes out, you take desperate gulps of air. 

“Fuck are you up to?” Unsurprised by his sudden appearance, you don’t turn. Instead, you continue to pant. You feel itchy everywhere. “Oi, don’t ignore me.”

Quiet mumblings come out of your mouth.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You’re panting like a damn dog.”

Prick. 

“Shit, did you drink that? You’re a fucking idiot. What kind of logic are you operating under? Are you trying to sabotage us? No, wait, ha! You were trying to sniff out a clue, weren’t you? What’d you think was gonna happen? You’d find the finger all by yourself and then ditch me? Nice fucking try.”

He never shuts up, but you can’t tell him to shove his accusations, accurate as they are, up his ass. Head thumping against the wood, you grip the windowpane tight, fearful you’ll fall over. You’re not yourself right now. The drink did something to you. 

A hand presses itself to your forehead. It’s hot and your lashes flutter. “Fuck. Talk to me.”

“Mary Ann! Mary Ann! Fetch me my gloves this moment!” Light pattering of feet can be heard on the stairs. Through the haze of your sudden light-headedness, you know it to be the rabbit, though you know not who this ‘Mary Ann’ is. You tremble. 

The pattering is inside the room and an aghast sound reaches your ears. Sukuna gathers you up in his arms, grunting when your head lolls to his chest. He smells like sin, and you hate it. 

“W-what are you doing here? Goodness, this is my home! I say, get out this instant.”

Darkly, your partner asserts, “Not happening until you tell me what the fuck that drink was and why she’s like this.”

“You drank that? Oh, dear. W-well, that is not my concern. You wandered in here and did as you please. It is your fault. Now leave. Please, old fellow.”

Dropping even lower, you barely recognise Sukuna’s voice. “You didn’t hear me? If you don’t fix her, I’ll roast you on a spit and chew you up.”

What is he even saying? He can’t do that. It’s illegal. He’d be shunned from St. Eden and by the whole of Genesis. Oh, right. He’s bluffing. You laugh against his jumper. He sure does sound convincing. 

“My! You must withhold your threats. You needn’t be so angry. Your friend, Y/n, if I remember correctly, will be just fine…eventually.”

“How long is eventually?”

The rabbit makes some noise you can’t decipher, and he coyly answers, “Two weeks or so.” And then he splutters, gasps and coughs. “Put me down! Ah! No, good fellow, you must calm down! She can be cured faster!”

You sure do hope Sukuna isn’t misusing his abilities to literally shake out the information he wants out of the poor thing, but you know, without looking, that’s exactly what he’s doing. This can’t possibly be what Professor Yaga meant by ‘innovative thinking.’ Or if it was, then you seriously need to consider idolising another teacher.

Without needing further prompting, the rabbit mumbles the secret. You don’t hear it, but you do hear the door click shut and an abrupt swear word hiss out of Sukuna’s mouth. He throws you down on an armchair and kneels down.

“What’re you doing?” You slur.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he reluctantly makes eye contact with you. “The rat said the effects wear off once your limbs tense up and you shake out the numbness in your body. Shit doesn’t fucking make sense but nothing in this goddamn place does so, do you consent or what?”

Firm hand gripping your knee, he parts your thighs. Heat rises up your face and you can’t argue with him — you don’t even have the energy to kick him in the face for alluding something so ridiculous. There’s no way he’s suggesting the cure is an orgasm, is he?

“N-no,” you breathe out, “we can’t.”

Grunting, he reminds you, “We have to. We can’t wait two weeks. That’ll be way too late, and we’ll fail the fucking quest. And that’s if your body is anything like theirs. It could take longer and I’m not staying here longer than I have to. So, you gonna let me make you cum or you just gonna fuck up our grades?”

This is crazy. 

“I’ll do it myself. Get out.”

Sukuna blows frustrated air out of his nose and brushes his hair back. He’s growing impatient. Snatching an arm up, he waves the limp limb in front of your face. It flails embarrassingly. 

“You can’t do shit in this state. Don’t be difficult. Let’s just get this over with.”

“F-fine,” you acquiesce and then hurriedly add, “but just your hand, okay?”

And that is all he needs. 

Through the haze, you feel cold air blow over your core when your panties are pulled off your legs. There isn’t even any time for embarrassment before long fingers are pushing your slit apart and a thumb is circling your clit with expert navigation. 

“Talk me through it. Tell me how you like your pussy played with.”

Why does he sound like that? 

Raspy and with a chocolatey smooth timbre, you can’t focus on your breathing when you can feel the vibrations of his words on your skin. Everything is constrained — your clothes feel suffocating, your body is heavy, and his spare hand is keeping your legs wide open. He can see everything and there isn’t a hint of shame on his face when he leans in closer and presses down harder on your clit. 

You moan. 

“Like that. I like it like that.”

“Yeah?”

Humming, you watch him watch you. 

His heated gaze slides from between your legs to your eyes, searching for any sign that this is working, that the extra gravity on your body will go away and you’ll go back to normal. And you can feel it working too. Can feel your fingers twitch, aching to grip his wrist and urge him away or to go faster, you can’t tell anymore.

A grunt leaves his lips. “You’re fucking soaked. You think you ready to take my fingers?”

No answer comes from you, only a whimper. And that is good enough for him, so he shoves two fingers inside, to the hilt, and wastes no time in curling them against that soft spot inside you.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right.” He laughs, breathlessly. “You’re crazy tight. You always like this or is that the damn drink?”

In and out and in and out. Sukuna is pumping his fingers inside of you, feeling your ridges and thumbing your clit. They feel great, even when you wish they didn’t. They’re long and nimble, but thick and filling. Manoeuvring inside your pussy as if they’ve been there before, as if it’s their second home, moans are being wrenched out of you.

“Watch the nails, idiot.”

Your eyes open — you didn’t even realise they had shut— and you notice your hand has loosened enough to clutch his wrist, digging into his skin, and pulling him closer. So so so close. Just a little more. Just one more push and you’ll be rid of the adverse effects of the stupid drink. 

“You’re much more tolerable with your pretty pussy plugged than when you’re free to nag my ear off,” he mutters.

And you cum. 

——————

“Those are some fuck ass mushrooms.”

They are, indeed. But you don’t voice your agreement. In fact, since walking away from that little house and that very angry rabbit, you haven’t said a word to him at all. You don’t even look at him. 

You can’t.

What transpired in that house was wrong. Completely wrong. It was unprofessional, unethical, and shameful. To think, you had been so competitive that you drank some unknown drink just to get ahead was one thing. To have made your expedition partner finger you to completion?

Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

Not that Sukuna seems to mind — he’s acting like normal. He snarked about how weird this world was, how the sandwiches you packed are shit and he misses the canteen food on campus (he still ate it all), and he made fun of you when you tripped over a rock. You’re a little hurt, but you don’t dare dwell on that for too long. 

Now, you two are staring at large mushrooms, about the same height as you are, all different, with wacky colours and more importantly, you’re staring at a gigantic caterpillar by your world’s standards, and you have to remind yourself it isn’t that the creatures here are big but rather that you have grown small. 

The caterpillar, oddly, is sitting on top of a mushroom, a pair of arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and not taking the faintest notice of either of you or of anything else. 

“Is that a chain-smoking worm? Fushiguro owes me money, ha.” Sukuna sounds quite pleased.

Then, when its eyes met yours, it took the hookah out of its mouth and addresses you in a languid, sleepy voice. “Who are you?”

“Hi, sir,” You begin nervously, “we’re travellers from another world, you see.”

“No, I don’t see,” says the caterpillar. 

You meet Sukuna’s amused stare. He’s content to let you take the reins on this one, clearly. Merlin, he’s useless. “I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly, especially not when we’ve had quite the day; it’s all been so very confusing.”

“It isn’t.”

Frowning, you try again. “I assure you; it has been. But that is neither here nor there. We’d just like to ask if you’ve noticed anything strange. Maybe other travellers like us? Or an odd energy about the place? A finger more specifically.”

“A finger? I have many. We all have fingers.”

Sukuna snorts. You feel heat rise to your face. And he finally steps in. 

“Listen, forget whatever she just said. Tell us how to get bigger. Being like three inches tall is a pain.”

The caterpillar rears itself upright and says angrily, “Three inches is a very good height to be!”

Okay, so clearly, you’re not going to get anywhere with the worm— caterpillar. At least not with those two being argumentative creatures. So, stepping in between them, you ask, being sure to sound extra polite, “Are these mushrooms edible? They wouldn’t, by any chance, help in making us grow taller, would they?”

Calming down, the thing takes the hookah out of its mouth, yawns once or twice, and shook itself. It comes down from the mushroom and crawls away in the grass, remarking merely as it goes, “Eat. And eat from each other. You will grow. Or don’t and you won’t.”

But before you can ask what the hell he meant, it’s already out of sight. 

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Sukuna growls. “Eating shit clearly isn’t a good idea so don’t go chomping on mushrooms.”

“But we have to grow taller. You really think we can return to Genesis at this height?”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “You gonna trust a worm? Knew you weren’t all right in the head when you substituted silver-beetle for the bronze one in first year, but this is just another level of idiocy, seriously.”

“Merlin, shut up! I was trying something new. The textbook said it ‘recommends’ you use silver-beetle, but it never said to only use silver-beetle. I was trying to be innovative.”

You get an eyeroll. “That’s not your fucking style, is it? You’re a rule-follower, a goody-two-shoes. You don’t trial new things.”

“Yeah, not since then. When it quite literally blew up in my face and I was made the laughingstock of our potions class. But I was just…”

Regretting letting your emotions get the best of you before you say something undeservedly vulnerable, you shut your mouth. But your partner isn’t blind or stupid. He saw that. He heard it. And the guy is a pest. 

“Finish your sentence.” You press your lips tighter together. He steps into your space and when you don’t look at him, he grabs your face and smooshes your cheeks, glaring down at you. “You were just what?”

Words muffled, you reluctantly, and with a lot of shame and embarrassment, admit, “I just wanted to be more like you. You always try new things. Even back then. You did something different the week before. Using moonflower oil instead of nightbane and you were applauded for your so-called ‘genius.’ No one’s ever done that for me.”

Sukuna stays silent for a minute and then he groans. His hand, and his heat, leaves for just a second and then the next, something is being shoved in your mouth and once again, you’re ingesting something you really shouldn’t but there doesn’t seem to be any other choice. 

The mushroom doesn’t really taste of much and there aren’t any sudden changes. You watch him chew, observing his body for anything out of the ordinary and nothing. 

“If you feel off, even just a little, say something, alright?”

You nod. 

“I don’t feel different at all. Was he just messing with us? You don’t think he took actual offence to the height comment, do you?” 

Time is passing and you don’t have a clue whether Underland’s time and Genesis’ are compatible. What if a month and passed within a day here? 

Getting this quest done in a week gets you a C, getting it done within two days is an A, but finishing in a month or longer would be a fail. No, it’d be worse than a fail. You’ll be humiliated. All your chances of pursuing this as a career will be over before you could even really try. 

“Now what?”

Sukuna throws a glance at you and then he shrugs. “Guess we gotta keep moving. Can’t sense the finger here so we shouldn’t stick around too long. I’d ascend and scan the area for the direction but since I’m the size of a fucking pinkie, I’d use up more energy than I can afford.”

“Wait. The caterpillar said something about eating from each other, didn’t he?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t really listening.”

Ignoring that, you continue, “What’d you think he meant by that?”

“Cannibalism?” 

You shoot him an unimpressed look. That couldn’t have possibly been what he meant, and even if it was, the casual way in which he said that puts you on edge. Cannibalism is not a standard practice, it’s not a practice at all, except for maybe a few groups of people in the far reaches of the worl— No. Stop. Don’t entertain his ridiculous ideas. 

Think. 

The drink that made you small. The instructions had been similar. ‘Share with your companion.’ At first, you thought you made the mistake of taking too big a gulp, but you were sure you didn’t. You’d never be so stupid. And that led him to kiss you. You quite literally shared with your companion. And then the drink from the rabbit’s house. That slowly paralysed your body, and the cure was to push your muscles to its limits. 

No. It really was an orgasm. It wasn’t just one way to make your muscles tense, it was the way, that’s why the rabbit knew to leave and give you two space. 

In a world where things appear and disappear conveniently, things out of order actually do have purpose. None of it was a coincidence. 

“Sukuna.”

He kicks a mushroom absentmindedly and assesses the height from where he stands and all the way up to where he needs to be to get a clear picture of the land. “What?”

“You need to eat me out.”

There’s a pause. A palpable silence so thick it could be cut with a knife. If you listen closely enough, you’re sure you can hear the creaking of his neck as he slowly turns his head back towards you. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite decipher but you imagine it’s something similar to confusion, disbelief and a ‘you’re fucking kidding.’

“If you’re horny,” he begins, exasperation lacing his words like he’s talking to a child, “go deal with it yourself. I’m not your walking rattletoy.”

Shuffling on your feet, you reassert, “No, I’m serious. I think that’s what the caterpillar meant. He said we need to eat the mushrooms and then we need to eat from one another. Through some weird logic, I can only guess he means that to activate the enlargement effect of the mushrooms it must be ingested from bodily fluids.”

“No fucking way. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Nothing in this world does!” You yell.

It isn’t like you want this to happen. This is humiliating beyond speech. When your friends ask how your first quest went down, you’re never going to be able to tell them the full truth. This will be a secret you take to your grave. And if you have to kill him once you get the finger to keep this shame a secret, you’ll do it without a moment’s thought.

Pinching his nose bridge, Sukuna growls out, “If I eat you out, I’ll grow faster and you won’t even be able to reach my fucking dick so you’ll stay that height. And I’m not gonna carry you around in my pocket whilst I do all the work.”

An idea comes to you. 

You grimace. “Well…”

“No. Absolutely fucking not.” He sees you inch closer to him, eyeing his belt and he steps back. “This is insane. Get the fuck away from my crotch.”

Once in his face, his body backed up against a mushroom leaving him nowhere to run, you whisper, embarrassed, “We have to try. We’ll be able to cover more ground when we’re bigger and we can’t afford to waste time. We have absolutely no clue where that cursed finger is and we’re at a loss, Sukuna. I need to complete this quest. So do you…please?”

“Ah, fuck.”

That’s all he says before you’re being pulled to the ground and flipped around. Facing the crotch you’d been eyeing before, you take this as a sign to unbuckle his belt, zip down his fly, and fish his cock out of his boxers. He’s big. Huge. It’s scary. 

Veins scale up his long length, leading you to his angry-red tip. And the carpet does not match the drapes. How interesting. But more than that…his cock is delicious looking. Something about it looks like it’d devour you whole instead of the other way around, and you lick your lips at the challenge.

A finger feels your slit through the gusset of your panties and a warm breath fan over it. You shiver. 

“Didn’t think I’d see her again,” he mutters.

Somewhat uncomfortable by this entire thing, you get to work. Licking a stripe from base to tip, you familiarise yourself with the smell, feel, and taste of him. He’s very musky in the best way. Like salt and danger. He’s rock-hard, hot and you need to lick him again. 

Not one to be shown up, Sukuna palms the globes of your ass from under your skirt and then flips it over. He wastes no time in diving forward just as those firm, calloused hands pull you down onto his face. Merciless lips suck at your clit through your soaked panties, making slurping sounds that you really do not want to be hearing. 

When you suckle on his tip, he hisses. “Go gently at first, idiot. Not a fucking lollipop. And put those hands to good use. Jerk me off and play with my balls.”

So fucking bossy. You have half a mind to tell him to get over himself but you need him to cum faster so you can get this over and done with. So, you fondle his heavy balls, venturing up and down his length with your hand as you hollow your cheeks and take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck yeah. Always been a good student, haven’t you?”

As if to reward you, he pushes your panties to the side and feasts on your dripping cunt with no reservations. You can hear the shameless squelches he’s making, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, to embarrass you, to rub it in your face how wet you’ve gotten for him, for someone you supposedly hate.

“Look how sloppy you are. Ha!” He spreads your lips apart, blowing cool air right into your pulsing hole. “She wants my -hngh yeah keep going- fingers. Almost feel bad to tell her -ha- she can’t have it. N-need her to leak all her juices out so I can drink it up. Be a good girl and feed me good, yeah?”

Your legs lock around his head, shaky and sweaty. Sukuna is sucking your clit like a vacuum, using two fingers to spread your wetness around your inner thighs, painting them. And the way his big hands are digging into your flesh, claiming you, is driving you crazy. Your hips begin shaking, grinding itself on his mouth just as you bob your head up and down his cock, eager to make a mess of him too. 

“Sukuna! You’re being too -ngh!- rough” 

He snickers and the vibrations make your eyes roll back. “She likes it. Hear how wet she is?”

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

“Pussy tastes so good. So fucking sweet can’t believe it’s yours. Maybe you should be as nice as your cunt is to me. We’d get along much better.”

If you thought he was the worst before, now you think he’s a completely irredeemable bastard. He’s no gentleman. He doesn’t treat you with respect or care, he’s just using you as his personal entertainment. As if he can hear your thoughts and wants to prove you right, he braces himself and begins to fuck your throat just as his fingers thrust inside your wet canal. 

You’re being jostled around by his monstrous whims and there’s nothing you can do but hold on tight as you feel that tsunami of pleasure rising and rising. 

“Y’know,” he mutters, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, “no one -ha- applauds you for your -shit that’s good- g-genius ‘cause they just expect it from you, right? Don’t gotta have a -oh fuck your mouth’s tight- a-a complex over it. Don’t need to prove a thing. Just gotta cum. Can you do that? Can you be a good little princess and cum for me?”

Everyone knows you’re good at following instructions. 

Mere seconds apart, you both cum. Hot, salty cum laced with his magical essence floods your mouth. It burns its way down your bruised and battered throat until all you can see and hear is how good he sounds when he groans your name out. 

“Oh fuck! Sukuna!” He won’t stop lapping up your juices, thumbing your clit and shoving his fingers inside. Even through his orgasm, he’s dragging yours out, pulling waves and waves of pleasure from your body like he can’t get enough. “S-stop! No more!”

Overstimulated from his relentless sucking and licking, you climb off of him and fall down on the grass, cupping your poor pussy, still soaked and spasming. 

There, you both catch your breath. 

So delirious, you don’t even notice you’ve grown much taller, towering over the mushrooms and you’re back to your original size. That wasn’t supposed to be as good as it was. It wasn’t supposed to feel mind-blowing. And you really shouldn’t be wanting more. 

“Did you mean what you said? About me being smart?”

He’s the first to get up. “I may be a lot of things, all negative in your eyes I’m sure, but I’m not a liar. Meant it when I said you’re smart and you shouldn’t try so hard.”

You meet his gaze and something in your eyes must strike him deep because he scoffs and mumbles an enchantment, conjuring a handkerchief that gets to work between your legs. 

“Also meant it when I said your pussy’s sweet. You get an A from me. Should stop by my dorm whenever you’re bored.”

Aaaaaand he’s back.

You throw his handkerchief, all wet from your juices, in his face. Irritated by his arrogance, you fix your skirt and wipe the sweat from your forehead on your sleeve and then you fly yourself up, searching for the next place to go where the finger might be. 

This isn’t personal. This is just for the quest. He knows that and so do too.

——————

“I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

Having seen a path along to a castle, you led your partner to where the gravel began and followed it up. It was on that very path that you ran into an odd creature. A cat with a grin so wide you were immediately put off. No words were exchanged but with just one look at each other, you knew better than to engage any further with the odd inhabitants of this curiouser and curiouser Underland. 

It would have been a great plan, meander and keep an eye out for anything odd, any sign that your teachers had been here, looking for an appropriate place to hide the finger, except…

The damn cat kept following you. 

Sukuna blew a gust of wind at it, but it disappeared before it could hit a tree. And then it reappeared with the same shit-eating grin. Then, sensing that he was going get even more aggressive, you attempted to converse with your new companion against your better judgement. 

“Hi. We’re travellers in search of….an item our teachers have hidden here. You wouldn’t have happened to see something odd recently, have you? Maybe other travellers or a strange glow?”

Purring, it blinked and grinned wider. “Why, yes, I have.”

“Oh, great. Would you tell us please which way we ought to go from here?”

The cat said, “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”

And Sukuna piped up. “We don’t have a destination in mind—“

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.”

“—as long as we get to wherever the finger is.”

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Sukuna snatched your hand and dragged you away, very clearly fed up. Neither of you mentioned the cat that kept popping up along the trail, grinning and occasionally humming, nor the fact that your hand was still firmly held in your partner’s grip. 

You made the mistake of looking at the cat and saw that its mischievous eyes were on your intertwined hands and then the shyness in your face. Its grin grew wider. 

Eventually, a dreaded scene appeared: a fork in the road. Of course, neither of you knew where to go and asking the cat was out of the question for, he surely would have toyed with you back and forth, up and down, and side to side until you either grew too dizzy to string logical thoughts or you grew so frustrated you march ahead, leaving it up to chance. 

Tapping his foot, Sukuna seemed to be weighing his options, and it was somewhat endearing, especially when he subconsciously brushes his thumb against your knuckles whilst deep in thought.

The cat said, “I could point you in the right direction. For a price.”

“No fucking way,” your partner growled. “Knowing this fucked up place, it’s gonna be something sick and perverted.”

“Let’s just hear him out.” Turning to the innocently smiling cat, you asked, “What’s the price?”

POOF!

It appeared right in front of you, suspended in the air. As if walking on a platform, it trots around your heads, tail slithering across your necks, and whispers, “A Hatter lives in one direction and a March Hare in another. To find out which is the right direction, you’ll have to put on a show, just for me.”

“Fat fucking chance. We’ll try our luck, dumb cat.”

Pulling on his hand, you argued, “This is our first real lead, Sukuna. We can’t pass it up.”

His nostrils flared. He wasn’t happy but he knew you had a point. 

“Fuck, alright. Oi, cat. How do we know you even saw shit? You could just be making it up.”

“Oh, well, I saw two people wearing your clothes —ugly things by the way— carrying a glass box with a finger. They spoke of a quest and tests and marks. Very tedious, I thought. But they sounded curious and so I followed them down one of these paths.”

Well fuck, you thought.

So, he was telling the truth. Sukuna understood the implications, but he looked conflicted. Maybe he wasn’t keen on the possibility of having to do more perverse things with you, and you have to admit, you couldn’t blame him. Despite his horrible attitude, he had still gone above and beyond to help you. If your partner had been anyone else, you would have been stuck here for weeks. 

“Sukuna.” You tugged your hand out of his grip and bit your lip. “We should split up, that way we can cover more grou—“

His glare cut you off. “No. Splitting up is dumb, idiot. Who knows what kinda dangers lurk around this place? And in any case, we need to return at the same time to complete the quest. So, cat, name your price and stay true to your fucking words, or else I’ll kill you and wear your tail as a tie.”

Spinning in the air, the cat grinned. 

“Wonderful!”

And then it poofed onto a tree branch, getting itself all nice and cozy before it languidly blinked and demanded, “Show the pretty lady how you like to feel good.”

That it brings us to now when Sukuna snarls, “I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

“Yeah, I actually agree with him. We can’t do that!”

The cat makes a gesture a lot like a shrug and began to disappear before the man beside you curses under his breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. How long do I have to keep going for?”

“Why, until the very end, of course.”

You’re gobsmacked. Truly. Your jaw is slack, and it falls down even further when for the second time today, Sukuna throws his blazer and jumper to the side, leaving him in a wrinkled white button-up, the sleeves of which he rolls up, and then finally, he unbuckles his belt. The sound of metal clinking makes you flinch. His semi-hard cock comes out. Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still packing something significant. It’s yet another thing you hate him for. 

His eyes meet yours before he sighs and throws his head back, muttering some kind of mantra to himself. It’s bad enough that you’re watching but a mean cat is here too — you can’t even imagine how uncomfortable your partner must be. 

“This place is fucked. Why do the Supremes even allow it to exist? Merlin be warned, I’m snitching about the depravities of this forsaken place as soon as we get back.”

Yet, his huge hand wraps around the base and he gives himself a couple pumps before he spits into his palm and rubs the head. You can’t look away, not even because you’re not allowed to but because fuck, he looks good. With one hand, he loosens his tie, showing off the well-defined veins in his muscular arm.

“The fucking cat better not be lying or I’ll burn it alive.”

Up, down, up, down and up, around the head, thumbing the slit, and then down again. He starts off slow, heavy breaths pushed out of his lungs, gradually increasing his pace and you swear you can feel each pump into your pussy.

“I hate this fucking place,” he growls out.

Growing frustrated with the white shirt getting in the way, he curses under his breath and lifts up the hem to bite on it, exposing his toned torso. The muscles there tense with his exertion and despite his age, you sense the strength that courses through his veins, imbuing his body with terrifying prowess. 

You’ve seen that very body bulldoze students in the hallway, wrangle beasts from all corners of reality, and have felt it grip you today. “Fuck, quit staring so hard.” 

You mutter an apology but he’s not listening, he’s focused on the way your eyes can’t stick to one place to look at and that spurns him on, thumb pressing into his slit with a hiss and spreading the pre cum down his length.  

Even the way he treats his own dick is unforgiving. His pace is rhythmic and elegant but also just plain mean. When your eyes flutter at the intensity in his, roving over your features, dropping for just a second down to the hem of your skirt where your skin is exposed before rising to your face again. Red tints the tips of his ears and he curses again like he had been caught. 

An hour passes, or maybe mere seconds, but you forget all about the cat and the quest and the fact that you’re supposed to hate him. Though, you can always count on Sukuna to remind you — with practically no shame, he fishes out something from his pocket. It’s the handkerchief he used to clean you earlier. 

Not having to spend a single moment wondering why he’s got it or what he’s going to do with it, the man presses it up to his nose and inhales deeply. So deeply, in fact, you see his eyes roll back.

“You sure love to stare at me, don’t ya? You -ngh- do it all the time during lectures and even across the meadows. Just can’t help yourself, can you? Always so damn inquisitive.”

Managing to find the will, you fire back, “T-that inquisitiveness helped me beat you in Professor Miya’s class last year, don’t forget.”

His pace increases. “Merlin, your voice is fucking annoying.”

Panties soaked, you resist the urge to press a hand to your pussy to alleviate the growing need there, settling instead for pressing your thighs together.

“S-seriously. You’ve -ha- seen my dick before. Quit fucking staring. You’re acting like you think it’s pretty.” His tone is unnecessarily sarcastic and aggressive, but you let him have this one. 

Just as breathless, you reply, “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“Fuck!”

Spurts of white cum spew out, landing on the ground between you two. They haven’t touched you and yet you feel their heat. Or maybe it’s coming from his body which glistens ever so slightly with sweat. Maybe it’s even coming from the way he glares at you — eyes dark and blaming, he accuses you of pushing him to release early. 

You hadn’t meant to; you could have watched forever. 

Sukuna packs his softening cock back in, clean hand running through his hair. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and conjure a handkerchief. You offer it to him, but he stretches his hand out. Biting your tongue, you allow him that one thing too since that couldn’t have possibly been easy and you consider the favour repaid.

Diligently wiping his spend away, muttering an enchantment to thoroughly clean him up, you flinch when his clean fingers skim your cheek, pushing a strand of hair back. 

The cat spins in the air. “You put up a great performance. It was very…revealing.”

“Spare me your bullshit. Hold up your end of the deal, cat.”

It begins disappearing, starting from the end of its tails and ending with the grin, which remains. Widening, it finally reveals before leaving, “Go right. To the Mad Hatter.”

A rock flies through the air and thuds against a tree. When it falls, a huge dent is left in the trunk. Sukuna had just tried to kill the cat. This quest is dead. 

Worried, you muse, “I’m not sure how I feel about a ‘mad’ hatter. Everyone here seems pretty mad to me so by their standards, he must be truly insane.”

A mischievous whisper grazes your ear. “You’re right. We’re all mad here.”

And then it’s gone again, but not without another rock flying near your head, whizzing past just a second too late. You give Sukuna an unimpressed look but he’s already picking his clothes up, dusting them off, and marching ahead without looking back. 

——————

There’s a table set out under a tree in front of a house. The ‘March Hare,’ you guess, and Hatter are having tea at it with a mouse sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two are using as it as a cushion, resting their elbows on the mouse and talking over its head. You fear it’d be very uncomfortable for the mouse, but it doesn’t seem to mind as it snoozes. 

“That cat lied to us. They were both here all along. That bitch.”

Again, can’t argue with that.

The table may be large, but the three are all crowded in one corner of the table and when they spot you two approaching, they cry out, “No room! No room!”

“Fuck are you talking about? There’s plenty of room. Move over,” Sukuna snarls. You elbow him and he rolls his eyes.

Two chairs pull out and you feel the crackle of his magic in the air. You take the seat and are offered wine by the March Hare. 

“I don’t see any wine,” you remark. 

The March Hare says, “There isn’t any.”

“Then why the fuck would you offer?”

The March hare says, “Why would you sit down without being invited?”

Fair enough. 

“Your hair wants cutting,” says the Hatter. He’s been looking at you for some time with great curiosity. Dressed in a patchwork of many different cloths of various colours and textures, he is an oddity. You both study each other

“You should learn not to make personal fucking remarks,” Sukuna snarls with some severity; “it’s fucking rude.”

The Hatter opens his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he replies is, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

Somewhat eager to ease the sudden tense atmosphere, you force an enthusiastic tone. “I love riddles. I believe I can guess that.”

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” Asks the March Hare. You nod. “Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare goes on.

“I do,” you hastily respond; “I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” Shouts the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” adds the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” mumbles the mouse, who seems to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

THUD!

All eyes fall on Sukuna who’s hit the table with a fist, seemingly innocently as he reclines in his seat the way he does in lectures and classes. You sigh. This whole thing is a mess. It’s impossible to get through any of these people and you’ve got no real clue where the hell the cursed item is. 

“We were directed here by a cat. A grinning cat. He said you might know something about this thing we’re looking for. It might sound odd but it’s a finger. It should feel weird, not at all a good feeling.”

The mouse mumbles, “Finger…we saw…it’s taken.”

You both sit up. “Taken? Where?”

“Tea!” The Hatter exclaims. “Since the Queen screamed that I was murdering time at her concert, it’s always been six o’clock here. So, we must have tea!”

Two cups find their way in front of you and your partner. A thick sense of dread fills you; you already know where this is going. What will it be this time? Lick each other’s toes? Spank each other on the ass?

“We’re not drinking this.”

“Oh, but you must. Tea is a great drink! It’s the best drink. This one offers clarity of mind. Perhaps it will lead you to where you’d like to go.”

Great. 

The day’s almost over and you’d really hate to spend a night here. Again, who knows how much time has passed in Genesis. You really can’t afford to dilly-daddle anymore. When you share a look with Sukuna, you know he’s thinking the same thing, albeit begrudgingly.

And so down it goes without much further argument.

Just as you had suspected, the tea is no ordinary tea — you feel its effects immediately. Your head is growing heavy, and your sight is blurring, but you feel alive. Your body is far more sensitive than it was before. Every breeze sets goosebumps on your arms and heat rises to your cheeks at the sensation of clothes brushing against your skin. 

“Shit. I t-thought you said this gives clarity of mind,” Sukuna spews out accusingly. 

They all laugh. Or maybe none of them do. 

“Let’s have some fun! The Dormouse will tell a story, and you must make it till the end.”

“The catch,” you croak out. “What’s the catch?”

The March Hare remarks, “Clever! Well, you two must be in embrace. It is simply how things are done here. Otherwise, how else will we know if a story is good?”

Flexing his hand like he’s worried he’s losing control over it, your partner presses, “You want us to hug? How does that make sense?”

“No, of course not. She must hug you. The most intimate of hugs!”

“The warmest.”

“The tightest!”

Oh fuck.

“Oh fuck,” Sukuna groans at the same time the thought occurs to you. “There’s always something with this fucking place. I’m losing my mind. Hey, let’s just quit this entire thing.”

“What!”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so horrified. Does this shit mean that much to you? Everything we’ve done here is unethical as fuck. If we return and explain, they can’t fail us. We’ve already gone above and beyond.”

“B-but what if they don’t go easy on us? I can’t get a bad grade, Sukuna. I just can’t.”

“Grow the fuck up! This is too fucking far. What they’re suggesting… it’s insane and you know it. We’re both top students, they wouldn’t dare kick us out of the course or the fucking school, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

The chair is pushed back and he’s leaving, shrugging his blazer on and tightening his tie. He’s ready to throw in the towel. You’re not. Heart beating out of your chest, your hands shake as you stand, lunging for him. “N-no! Sukuna, we’ve come so far already. We’re close. I can feel it. Please. It won’t mean anything, we can just get it over and done with.”

Darkness clouds his eyes and the heaviness in his body from the tea makes sweat bead down his neck. Rolling his head around, he tries to calm himself, collecting his mind and resisting the warming effects of the tea. 

“Stop talking. We’re going back. Hate me all you want but I refuse to take a part in this farce any longer. This whole thing was fucked from the beginning.”

He’s reaching in his inside pocket, searching for that one thing that would end this. You’ve looked forward to this all your life, you can’t just let this go without having given it your all. 

“Sukuna!”

Something about your tone stops him in his tracks and his unfocused eyes find yours. 

“My dad…H-he was an explorer.” You blame the tea on the tears welling up and threatening to humiliate you further. “He gave his life to the cause. It was everything to him. A-and this is the only part of him I can keep alive so please one more chance and then I’ll do everything you want. I’ll do your homework, I’ll give up job opportunities for you, I’ll rescind the complaint I made about you where I complained about your bad breath.”

“I don’t have bad breath.”

“Yeah, I know! I just wanted to be petty, fuck. Please?”

Combing his hair with his hand, a tick in his jaw jumps and you think maybe he’ll kill you, strangle you finally after years of…whatever the fuck you two have been doing. Instead, he says…

“Take off your fucking panties and let’s fucking hope the hamster is a good orator.”

And so, you find yourself sitting on Sukuna’s thick thighs, panty-less, and stuffed full. Easing him in is difficult beyond belief — you’re already wet, or had remained wet, the details are unclear, and he’s hard, which is the problem. His huge cock doesn’t make the easiest of entrances. 

“Loosen up, princess. You’re gonna cut the circulation off my damn dick,” he hisses in your ear. It sends shivers down your back and when you tighten up in response, his fingers dig into your hips as punishment. 

“Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse begins in no hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well—”

“What did they live on?” Asks the Hatter. 

Sukuna doesn’t feel anywhere near close to being buried to the hilt inside your pussy and he’s pushing his way through your gummy walls, fingers rubbing your clit to encourage you to loosen up. You’re already sweaty and well out of breath. To maintain some dignity, you decide to blame it on the tea. 

“They lived on treacle,” says the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.

“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” you gently remark, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that they’re watching you ease yourself down on the pink-haired man’s throbbing length; “they’d have been ill.”

“So they were,” says the Dormouse; “very ill.”

“But why did they live at the bottom of a we—Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

He’d grabbed you by the hips and shoved you down, forcing your walls to stretch impossibly quickly. A dull pain vibrates inside, it causes you to tear up. Shushing you, a hand reaches up underneath your jumper, it rips your shirt open, buttons falling down. That hand, calloused and scalding, weighs up your breast. Your head falls back on his shoulder when he pinches a nipple.

“Don’t fucking interrupt him, dumbass.”

The Dormouse again takes a minute or two to think about it, and then confirms, “It was a treacle-well. And so, these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, you know—”

“What did they draw?” You wonder, forgetting yourself. Sukuna thrusts inside you. 

Pooling under, your wetness coats his cock, dribbling down his balls. He’s so much bigger inside you than outside and by the Heavens, it’s like he’s in your lungs. Every ridge, every vein, every throb — you feel it all. Sukuna’s lips skim your neck. “Are you interrupting the fucking thing ‘cause you want to elongate this? Huh, you irritating -hngh- p-pain in my ass? So quiet now that you’ve got a cock plugging you up, aren’t you? Maybe that’s all you -ha- needed from the very beginning, you dirty little thing.”

A moan leaks out just as he flicks your nipple again and again. 

“Treacle,” says the Dormouse, with a little amusement in his words. 

You can’t even remark about how ridiculous this whole thing is anymore because now it’s your fault. You had an out and you didn’t take it when offered. Now you’re practically drooling against Sukuna’s neck as he holds back from thrusting into your wet heat. 

“Did you ever think that w-we’d -ha- end up like this? When you shoved me out of your way years ago, unprovoked, did you know I’d be balls deep inside this pretty fucking pussy, hmm? Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. Is it turning you on to be watched? Do you like how e-everyone’s listening to your -ngh fuck don’t clench down on me- y-your moans, watching you grind on my dick? What would your s-snooty friends think?”

“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse goes on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it’s getting very sleepy; “and they drew all manner of things—everything that begins with an M—”

“Why with an M?” Enquires the Hatter.

 The March Hare asks, “Why not?”

You’re silent, or as silent as you can be with the way you feel him pulsing inside of you. His clutch on you is much sweeter than you’d like it to be, so are the words of praise he’s whispering in your ears. Sukuna’s being unfair. Your knees are shaking from the pressure building up inside you and you really have to fight back the whimpers that claw their up your throat, reminding you how he filled it mere hours ago. 

“Just filled your sloppy cunt with my cock and you’re -mhm- already fucked dumb? Always wondered how long it’d take to wipe that pretentious smirk of your face, you self-righteous brat. Now look at you.”

“You’ve been -hgnh!- thinking about f-fucking me?”

He laughs and you feel it rumble behind you. “More times than I’ll ever admit. And only ever when you pissed me off. You’re always glaring at me when I talk in lectures, walking fast so you won’t h-have to breathe the same fucking air as me, and worse of all, when you wear these short fucking skirts and if I looked hard enough or conjured a breeze, I could see your prissy little panties. Always with frills and always with bows.”

“S-shut up, Sukuna. Your crazy talk’s scaring me.”

Sharp teeth cling onto your neck, digging just a little to draw out a sudden moan. Satisfied, he licks up the mark. “Didn’t you learn anything from Professor Hinata’s class on spiritual attachments? Love is fear. Y-you falling -ah fuck, I won’t last- falling for me, prissy little princess?”

“No, he said, people f-feel a different sense of -ooh fuck so full ha- fear when in love.”

“Same fucking difference.”

The Dormouse closes its eyes by this time, and is going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it wakes up again with a little shriek, and goes on: “—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are ‘much of a muchness’—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?”

“How much longer?” You all but scream out at the three other people. 

Looking startled, they laugh. The Hatter confesses. “The story was over before it began.”

The March Hare adds, “Or there was no story to tell to begin with.”

“The finger! Where’s the finger?”

“The Queen has it. Took it away.”

Your orgasm hits you like a shooting star, piercing you from inside. Back arching, head thrown back, eyes rolling, you tense all over. Sukuna’s grip on you tightens impossibly and triggers his own orgasm. Together, you both moan and groan, shaky knees hitting the table. It rattles. “Fuck, Sukuna! So b-big! I c-can’t. So good, so so so good.”

“That’s it, baby. Ride my dick, that’s it. Ah, fuck, you’re so damn good at that. Better than I coulda ever dreamed. Smell and taste better too, ha! Shit!”

The world fades away. All you can hear, feel, see, and hear is Sukuna. Pink hair, steel muscles, piercing sword buried to the hilt, and careful hand wiping an errant tear from your cheek. Hot ropes of cum paint your insides, driven by an intense throbbing. It’s the fullest you’ve ever been — the most satisfied too but you can’t dwell on that for too long.

You slump against him, completely spent and drenched. 

His chin rests against your shoulder and sometime later, with the three Underlanders talking among themselves, bored of you two now, he whispers, “Didn’t pull you down too hard, did I?”

“A little…but it was good.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. 

Standing, you wince when cool air kisses your swollen lips. There’s a gaping Sukuna-sized hole inside you and it’s leaking cum, which trails down your thighs before the man responsible kneels down and wipes it up with a new handkerchief — man you two are going through handkerchiefs like it’s nothing and well, you suppose it is considering they’re so light, they can be easily conjured with little to no effort. 

Once clean, he helps you slip into the panties you had discarded, what feels like, a millennia ago. And then, with a distracted instruction from the Mad Hatter, you two leave the tea-drinkers in search of the so-called, ‘Queen of Hearts.’

Neither of you mention the fact that your hands are interlinked the whole way.

——————

A large rose-tree stands near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it are white, but there are three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. From your hiding spot behind a hedge, you hear one shout, “Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!”

“I couldn’t help it,” says Five, in a sulky tone; “Seven jogged my elbow.”

On which Seven looks up and sarcastically agrees, “That’s right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!”

“You’d better not talk!” Demands Five. “I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!”

“What for?” Asks the one who had spoken first.

“That’s none of your business, Two!” Says Seven.

“Yes, it is his business!” Five says, “and I’ll tell him—it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.”

Sukuna snorts, “Fuck’s their problem?”

“It looks like they’re painting the roses red. Why?”

At this moment Five, who’s been anxiously looking across the garden, calls out, “The Queen! The Queen!” and the three gardeners instantly throw themselves flat upon their faces. There’s a sound of many footsteps, and you look around, eager to see this woman.

First comes ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these are ornamented all over with diamonds, and walks two and two, as the soldiers did. After these come the royal children; there are a ten of them, and the little dears come jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they’re all ornamented with hearts. Then the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them you recognise the White Rabbit: it’s talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that’s said, and goes by without noticing you two. Then follows the Knave of Hearts, carrying something on a velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, comes the King and Queen of Hearts.

“And who are these?” Asks the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who are lying round the rose-tree; they’re lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs are the same as the rest of the pack, so she can’t tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. Then, sensing they won’t want to out themselves, she screams, “Off with their heads!”

“What a bitch,” you mutter.

Beside you, Sukuna shrugs. “Nah, she’s valid.”

Ignoring him, you point to the cushion. “Do you feel that?”

He nods. There’s an intense energy coming from the velvet cushion. You already know it’s the finger encased in a glass box. The box itself would have been crafted with keeping most of the cursed energy contained in mind, so you know its malevolent effects are limited, but the sooner you can retrieve and return to school grounds, the better. You’ve overstayed your welcome, the proof of that is still pooling in your panties. 

“Let’s grab it and get the fuck outta here.”

Grabbing your bag, you search for something you’ve been saving for this very moment: a vial of blue liquid swirls in your hand. You uncork it and with a nod to Sukuna, you take a gulp. Hand outstretched to offer the rest to him, you’re somehow not surprised to feel hands on your head and lips on your own. 

The liquid sloshes into his mouth. You both gulp. 

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

And then you’re invisible. 

Creeping through the shrubbery, you wander into a curious game. 

“Get to your places!” Screams the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people begin running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they get settled down in a minute or two, and the game begins. You’ve never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it’s all ridges and furrows; the balls are live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingos, and the soldiers have to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.

The players all play at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the Queen’s in a furious passion, and stomps around, shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” about once in a minute.

If there was anyone to avoid pissing off in here, it’s surely her. So, you two make your way around, avoiding soldiers, children, hedgehogs, kings and queens and flamingos. 

Upon reaching the Knave, you pluck the box in your hands and feel immense energy coursing through your veins, sparking your hair up. Something fizzles and splutters. 

Gasps stagger around. 

“W-who is this interloper with dreadful clothes?” The Queen screams. “She’s taking my finger! It’s mine. I found it!”

The cursed item must have off-set the effects of the potion. This thing is strong, there’s no doubt about it. Everyone’s looking at you, some in curiosity, inching closer, and others in horror, lunging back when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Off with her head! Off with her head! Off with her head!” The bitch repeats on a loop, growing red in the face as she stomps about the place. 

Just as guards reach for you, you’re grabbed back by a pair of strong arms. Sukuna’s still invisible but you know it’s him when a calloused hand brushes your hair back and fixes up your uniform in quick succession. Something soft and warm brushes your forehead and then a purple coin is flipped in the air. 

Bright lights blind, encircling you in a cool and refreshing hug, before your body is vanishing in spots. 

Blink. 

You’re standing on solid ground. 

A hall of uniformed scholars and students alike are waiting. They beam at you; deafening rounds of applause meets your ears, and you stumble back into a hard body. Sukuna’s visible again, thanks to the effects of the portal. Gone are the angry kings and queens, the oddly shaped soldiers, and talking animals. Instead, you’re face with academics who express impressed respect.

“Congratulations!” Professor Yaga smiles. He shakes your hand and then your partner’s. “You’re the first students to return — as expected of my best students. Come, drink some water, replenish yourselves, and then I’d like to introduce you to recruiters.”

And so that’s how your return proceeds.

You meet so many people, most you’ve already forgotten, that your head actually hurts by the time you’re able to slip away into your dorm-room. Showered and fed, you lay in bed trying desperately to grasp the events of the day. The professor had revealed that you made it back in record time, which of course will look great on your application, so that’s one chip off your shoulder. 

Still, everything feels unreal. You had travelled, unchaperoned, to a world unknown to you. You explored and discovered and stumbled and learnt — most of which you’d never feel comfortable sharing with anyone else, try as they did in the reception. 

In hindsight, there were things you could have done differently, should have done differently. None of that seems to matter now though. You’ve done it. You’ve succeeded. Passed with flying colours. An A-grade dimension on your first go, too. You should pat yourself on the back. 

For some reason, however, you don’t feel like celebrating. The friends that hugged and pressed you for information didn’t really understand that numbness in your chest. This is all you’ve ever wanted and now that you have it, you feel empty. Is it because now you have nothing? 

Is it guilt? Shame?

You don’t know. 

Your feet meet the cold, wooden floors. Slipping into slippers and tying a robe around you, you sneak out into the hallways, this time not to study, but rather to do the opposite. There’s one thing you need to know. One thing that might set your mind and soul at ease. Facing a high likelihood that that something would not take kindly to being disturbed late at night, you brave the hardest journey so far, and come upon a door, this time, at a good height. 

You knock. 

Every second that passes drives away that confidence but when that door opens and you see a startled Sukuna, shirtless and glistening from a recent shower, it seems, you feel assured again. It’s just him. There’s no reason to be nervous. You’ve seen and felt him, just as he had done with you. Despite the years of petty rivalry, you’ve learned, he’s not that bad actually. 

“Fuck do you want?”

Nevermind. 

Rolling your eyes, you begin walking away. A solid grip wraps itself around your arm and you’re yanked back. Your hand grabs purchase on his torso —hard, hot and wet, images are conjured in your mind that you shouldn’t be thinking about. 

“Don’t get all prissy. Was just asking.”

One or two students pass by, sparing a glance but mostly at Sukuna’s impressive bod. Neither of you care that gossip will pass around; you’ve done a lot of being watched. It no longer bothers you. He leans against the door, arms crossed and raising a brow at you. 

“I just wanted to talk, or something. Like, we didn’t really get to when we got back because it all got so crazy, y’know?”

He grunts. “That’s an understatement. Those stuffy old goats were somehow more annoying than the freaks in Underland.”

You smile. 

“Can’t believe we actually survived. It seemed so impossible at so many points, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did. But we did good.”

“Yeah, we did...”

The conversation’s dwindling. You thought you would have so much to say, and well, you do, but none of it is coming out. What do you say to someone’s who’s been inside you?

‘Hey, thanks!’ Or ‘Nice?’

In a flash, he tugs you by the fuzzy belt of your robe. You’re in his arms and he growls out some insult to a passing student who had almost bumped into you. Just as quickly, he spins you two around, closes the door and you’re inside his room. Both leaning against his door now, he doesn’t let you go, and you don’t shuffle out of his embrace. 

Gaze softening, he pinches your chin and tilts your head back so you can meet his eyes. “That story about your father…”

“Didn’t happen,” you confess. 

He laughs. “Fucking knew it. You can be such a nerd, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, grades are important, Sukuna. If you knew that, then you wouldn’t be five points behind me.” 

“Fuck you.” He walks forward, pushing you back until you fall on the bed. He follows, drops of water splattering on your face and the sheets. “I was seven points ahead before. I’ll get you back soon.”

You’ve never thought him foul-smelling, even when you searched the deepest darkest parts of yourself to find the most creative insults you could gather to satisfy your need for vindication. But now, his scent fills your nose in an overwhelming, almost suffocating way. 

Clean and mature, you’re suddenly aware of the stubble on his chin when his face skims past yours to smell you. “Hmm, don’t change your shampoo.”

“Do you conjure a breeze to get a whiff of my hair too?” You tease and just as the last word comes out, a ‘yes’ reaches your ears. He’s being painfully transparent and vulnerable and you don’t know how to feel or what to say, so you settle on nothing but silence. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what you had expected to happen when you come here, but this sudden change in your dynamic isn’t terrible.

There, in his bed and in his arms, you rest. Neither of you are asleep, you’re both much too aware of each other to do so, but the quietude’s nice. Just the day before, if you had been told you’d end up like this with him you’d have laughed and levitated a book into their head. It would have been worse than impossible — if it had happened, the world, all the dimensions and planes of existence that fills it, would have folded into itself, swallowed into nothing. 

But it hasn’t and it won’t. 

“Your heart’s beating quite fast,” he murmurs against your neck. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

The question is loaded, and you can’t help yourself when you fire back, “Are you afraid of me, Ryomen?”

“Terrified.”

His face is all you see when he leans on his forearms, then slowly, he leans back down, skimming his sharp nose against your jaw and all the way up to your ear where his lips just barely touch the shell. 

“So afraid I was actually getting dressed to go to your room…but you just had to one-up me, didn’t you? My little overachiever.”

Sukuna doesn’t stop there. 

He kisses you on your temple and then pushes the robe open, revealing an oversized shirt which he pulls up. He presses a kiss onto your clavicle, then your stomach, and the hem of your shorts. He looks up at you. “So afraid that I enjoyed every single fucked up thing we did today, and I’d do it all over again, cursed finger be damned.”

Those shorts are ripped away and, once again, you’re laid all open for him. You should be embarrassed, or feeling shy at the very least, but you aren’t. Because Sukuna isn’t looking at you like he used to — with disdain. No, he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and might ever see even if he explored all the corners of the universe. 

“I was terrified when you yelled at me for burning your application paper for Ad-Ill.”

You smack him on the head. “You were such a prick for that, by the way.”

Big hands push your thighs open, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs, keeping you nice and spread for him. “It was an accident.”

“The hell it was.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, and you moan. Just that one taste had him feral — he dives in like he had done before. Practically making out with your pussy, he laps up the essence steadily building out of your slightly sore hole. “It was. I didn’t know you were -mm- applying too until you came to hand in your paper. Thought it’d be fun to have someone who actually -fuck you tastes so good- knows a thing or two in class so I tried to set alight someone else’s paper, but some loser bumped into me. Made me miss and shit.”

There are so many more incidents you want to bring up, but when he’s suckling on your clit so diligently — far more than diligent than you’d ever seen him be — you can’t do anything but tug at his hair and writhe beneath his hands. 

“Quit fucking moving.” Sukuna smacks the bundle of nerves, and you cream onto his tongue, which earns you soothing caresses on your clammy thighs. “You’re taking the tonic, aren’t you?”

You nod, distracted. 

“Good, because I’m not fucking you with a barrier. Can’t possibly downgrade when I’ve had the real thing, can I?”

That sinful tongue is forcing moans and moans out from you, noises you’ve never heard yourself make. Your eyes fly open when it begins venturing lower, tracing a hole you’ve never touched. “S-sukuna, don’t.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. It presses in and you feel stretched in a way so different than you’ve ever been stretched before. The sensation isn’t bad. No, not at all but it’s an addictive feeling you’re not sure you can stomach. 

With fingers pistoning inside you and a tongue exploring you in that hole, it’s no surprise to either of you when you squirt all over his face. You screech, back arched painfully and tearing at the sheets beneath you. 

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe before you’re being spun around and positioned onto your knees. Arms pulled back, he thrusts into your sloppy pussy with a long squeeelch. 

“Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

“God, do you ever loosen up?” He growls. 

Powerful hips make quick work of you, pushing in and out, cock head massaging that gooey spot inside your gummy walls. His balls are swinging with the force of his thrusts, and they kiss your clit. You’re being stimulated inside and out, especially when every time he smacks into you, you’re shoved forward, shirt around your neck, and your tits graze deliciously against the silky sheets. 

“T-too rough…you’re being too rough!”

Sukuna makes a noise of amusement. “You like it rough, though. Can fucking feel -ngh- h-how much you like it. No use in lying to me, baby.”

“Fine!” You huff a laugh. “Fuck me harder then, Ryomen.” He pulls out till only the tip is in your cunt and then he shoves it all back in. “Fuck!”

His groans are making you delirious: “How do you feel so damn good? Seriously. It’s like you were -ah shit- created just to spite me, ha.”

You’re being fucked stupid, and no one can help you. You just have to take his relentless pummelling over and over again. And thank the Heavens you’re not the type to back away from a challenge because he’s fucking you better than anyone else has before, and this kind of euphoria is a crime to miss in anyone’s lifetime.

“Eat.” Through the blurriness of the tears in your eyes, you see a cake hovering in front of you. “Swiped it from Underland. Had it tested so I know exactly what it does. Go on. Be a good girl and open wide.”

Despite better wisdom, you lick up the frosting. He pulls you upright, still ramming his huge cock inside your sopping pussy. A hand grabs your head back, his tongue shoves into your mouth and you share the cream. Through the sweetness, you can taste him, and you just can’t help but lick up the dribble down his chin and meet his lips again for a kiss. 

“Ow! Suku—Ah! Fuck! Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

Sukuna had bitten your bottom lip. Blood pools in your mouth but he sucks away the iron and distracts you with the flicking of your nipples. Just as he’s had his momentary fill, you’re shoved back down onto the bed, a hand on your head keeping you down as he bulldozes into you with little care. 

“Even your blood tastes sweet ha. God, I can’t get enough of you. I don’t care what you -ngh fuck- have to say. I’m keeping you.”

You explode all over his cock, cream pooling out of your pussy and soaking the sheets underneath. The soreness in your back is barely felt over the maddening pleasure radiating all over your body. “Yes, fuck! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Body limp, you let him keep pummelling you until he pauses suddenly. You look back.

Two cocks meet your stare. 

Bewildered and literally afraid, you attempt to inch away but he grips your ankle in one hand whilst the other strokes the new one. There’s a sadistic smile on his lips and that’s far more horrifying than anything else. It’s the kind of smile that promises pleasure and pain on levels you can only ever achieve with him. 

“You like, baby? Don’t worry your dumb little head -ha- only men grow this. Aren’t we lucky? The women, on the other hand…”

Before you can even think of a reply, he’s spitting onto your second hole and prodding the head of his temporary —at least you hope it is — cock there. You brace yourself for pain, hands flying to try and push him away, but when he pushes in, you’re surprised to find your hole stretching accommodatingly. It wraps around him just as your pussy does when he pushes his original cock in at the same time. 

Thoroughly filled, you’re breathless. Truly. All you can think about is Sukuna. Nothing about your shared history or the insane events of the day. Just Sukuna. You were already being driven crazy by one of him and now there’s two monsters fucking you from behind, rubbing against parts you didn’t know could feel so good. 

“Oh, God, Sukuna. It’s all too much, I can’t.”

He laughs and it’s an incredibly cruel sound. It’s also incredibly hot. “You’ve said that -ngh- before and you’ve been doing j-just fine. Can’t believe we waited so long to do this.”

You’re yanked back by your hair. Your eyes roll back. 

“Don’t make me wait again.”

“Let me do -oh Sukuna!- b-better than you in the next test and I’ll let you fuuuuck! fuck me whenever.”

Body towering over you, he leans forward, driving deeper inside of you at an angle that makes you see dancing gryphons. His jaw clamps down onto your shoulder, leaving, you’re sure, indents that you’ll curse him out for tomorrow. “Yeah? How about you try your damn best to beat me, and I fuck you whenever and wherever I want? I can be quite good with words, after all.”

“Bullshit.”

So many noises echo in the room. The neighbouring students will surely complain to the Head of Student Housing, but you don’t care. The bed is creaking as it slams into the wall with loud thuds. Your moans and his low groans and hisses are making your clit pulse. Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! And smack! Smack! Smack!

It’s like Sukuna’s purposefully being as loud as possible to drive you more and more insane. And it’s fucking working.

“Yeah? You don’t believe me?” He licks a stripe up your spine, laying a firm slap against the glove of your ass just to watch it ripple. “Try this one.”

Steeling yourself, you brace for the impact of whatever lie spews out of his mouth. You don’t want to let him get the best of you; you need to remind him of who’s better out of the two of you. Whether it’s in the examination hall, in a quest, or on the damn bed — you have to come out victorious. 

He kisses your nape before he whispers against the skin there. “I was so fearful of you I convinced Professor Yaga to pair me up with you.”

You cum. 

Stars explode in your vision, and you’re stunned. Your vision must have disappeared. Or maybe your mind has vaporised. Whatever the case, pleasure erupts in both your pussy and your ass, and the feeling is so overwhelming you’re screaming bloody murder into his pillow, drenching it in your drool. 

“Ah, fuck! You’re fucking choking my cocks.” 

With a hiss, Sukuna unloads his cum inside of you. There’s so much of it. It’s overfilling, flowing out of your holes even as he’s still got you stuffed full. You can feel phantom cum pool in your mouth and the taste of him, the branding sear of his body on and in you, relieve you of tension you didn’t realise you had. 

Knowing he’s suffocating you; he rolls you two over so you’re lying on him. His skin is sweaty, as is yours. Through his curtains, you see rays of light peek in — you hadn’t realised you’ve been at it for hours, though you’re sure to feel it later. 

A stillness hangs in the air. For the next couple of weeks, you’ll be busy. Recruiters will conduct interviews, you’ll write reports, and answer questions for local papers and even lead classes on what you’ve learnt. You’ll indubitably meet many more people and go through a different kind of hell. For reasons beyond you, however, you don’t feel any kind of dread. 

“Did you mean what you said? Any of it?”

He snorts and then pecks your forehead, pulling up the blanket over the two of you. “Every damn word, unfortunately.”

“So now what?”

Eyes closed and body shuffling to get comfortable, you can do nothing but be compelled by the sudden call for sleep luring you two away from consciousness. “Whatever you want.”

Somehow, ‘whatever’ is the perfect answer. 

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, fulfilled and satisfied on levels you hadn’t expected to be when you set off that morning. Wherever this goes, neither of you know, but the fact that you’re both willing to see it through, means everything to you. 

That morning, your dreams are filled with visions of delicious drinks, animated animals, and a malevolent monarch who cradles your head close to his heart.

[aghostinmyownmachine]

blows kisses in @thirium-drinker's direction

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ SASUKE’S NSFW ALPHABET .ᐟ

cw ; i have added a few visuals to this, inspired by @osamucide and this post of visuals! you have to be logged into your twitter account for them to work. it’s porn, so THIS IS YOUR WARNING.

p.s. ; { i know Sasuke only has one arm now, but these visuals involve guys that have two. please, take it with a grain of salt and picture it the best you can. (✿˶˘ ³˘) }

master list

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what’s sasuke like after sex? ༝༝ }

The man is a teddy bear these days. So when your sweaty skin sticks to Sasuke’s like glue, chest heaving to catch your breath, he keeps his cock sealed in your pussy. He’s careful with his movements, tender, and he’ll shift you ‘round until you’re on your sides, nose to nose.

Warm fingers will skate down your waist, over your thigh, and grasp the sensitive area behind your knee, tugging to hook it over his hip. That same arm will lock around your waist, pull you close, and what’s left of his other one will tuck under your neck.

“Feeling good baby?” He murmurs, pressing his hips forward just to tease. He’s still hard, and he uses that to his advantage. Your pussy squeezes tight and he moans, lashes fluttering when you chuckle. He leans into your touch when your fingers run through his hair, brushing it off his forehead.

Sasuke snuggles in close after that, giving you both time to stay present in the afterglow before you clean up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ sasuke’s favorite ༝༝ }

Sasuke strikes me as the type of man who doesn’t have a preference. He loves every part of you, because at the end of the day, they’re all connected to the person he loves. He simply can’t get enough of you.

When your tits bounce, when your ass jiggles, the fact that your lips and fingers fit like a glove around his cock, Sasuke loses his mind. He stares at your pretty face at all times of the day, limbs like live wires each time he fucks you so well your nails leave angry pink scratches down his chest.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where sasuke likes to cum ༝༝ }

The heat of your pussy seems to spread throughout Sasuke’s entire body. It starts in his cock, slithers up his belly, up his throat, and pools in his cheeks. There’s cotton in his ears when you call out to him, smacking his chest to get his attention.

“Sasuke!” Your voice pitches higher, back arching without permission. His heavy thrusting continues to inch you up the mattress. “Pull out Sasuke, you — fuck, you gotta pull out!”

Sasuke’s jaw clenches, cock starting to twitch in warning. “You sure baby? I don’t think your pussy wants to let me go. So greedy.” His hand clutches your thigh tighter as struggles to keep his eyes open.

You level him with the best glare you can. Sasuke pouts, but he does pull out, and he cums in glossy threads all over your tits instead. Even if he’d rather fill your pussy to the brim.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝�� how much does sasuke have? ༝༝ }

Sasuke’s gotten his dick sucked, he’s eaten pussy, he’s just never stepped over the last threshold. Not by the time you met him.

He’s not a shy, blushing virgin, either. He never gave a single fuck about it before, and he doesn’t give a single fuck even after you’ve started a relationship. He never stops being a little shit though, taunting you with things like “Is that right? My pretty girl wants to take my virginity? Good, I’ve wanted to get my dick inside your tight pussy since I met you.”

Sauske is nothing if not a fast learner. Once he gets over the shock of pleasure those first few times, he figures out how to play your body like a fiddle.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ sasuke’s favorite ༝༝ }

Bouncing up and down on Sasuke’s cock destroys him.

Watching him dig the base of his skull into the mattress, neck taught and straining as his spine pulls up into an arch, you feel powerful. His expression always shatters with pleasure when you brace your palms on his pecs and sit down with enough force to leave an ache in his pelvis.

He tries to stay quiet, but often he can’t. He lets out moan after moan, these low, rasping noises that buzz in your brain.

But his favorite part, the one that tightens his balls and coils heat behind his navel, is when your thighs give out. Allowing him to draw up his knees, plant his feet, and thrust up into your pussy until your wailing, squirting all over his cock.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does sasuke shave or care? ༝༝ }

Sasuke doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. There’s a sparse trail of soft, dark hair from his belly button to his pelvis, ending with a handful of curls at the base of his cock. He’s never felt the urge to shave.

The only situation in which he’d be bothered by your hair is if it’s blocking his access to your pussy.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is sasuke romantic? ༝༝ }

Sasuke is a secret romantic. The icy exterior he works so hard to maintain dissolves when you’re alone, the soft secret smile he hides lighting up his face. The first time you had sex you’d followed him home after dinner, heart full, and you’d stumbled in shock when you were met with a trail of flower petals leading to his room.

The lights were dimmed already, and Sasuke took you by the hand to guide you along. You noticed a couple candles scattered in his room, waiting to be lit. When you turned to peek at Sasuke he met your gaze, cheeks flushed pink.

You couldn’t help but tease him with “Were you so certain you’d get laid tonight?” Taking his hand and squeezing. Sasuke glared half heartedly, returning the affectionate gesture.

Sasuke didn’t bother responding, he just held you close and let you ride him until he had to beg for a break.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does sasuke jerk off? ༝༝ }

Sasuke’s opinion on jerking off is more or less “meh”. If the urge is strong enough, and he’s got the time, once in awhile he’ll indulge.

To ask Sasuke directly, he’d much rather it be your hand stroking his cock. He’ll sit down by you in bed, lean his head on your shoulder, and ask in a low tone if you’d be willing to lend him a helping hand. After all, he can’t squeeze and palm his balls if his singular hand is occupied.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINK { ༝༝ sasuke’s kinks ༝༝ }

Breeding kink who?

In all seriousness though, this is one of, if not the only, kink that he has. It’s not so much the reality of you becoming pregnant as it is the idea of it. The risk that accompanies cumming in your pussy until it squeezes out the sides while Sasuke very much continues to push it back in.

When the two of you do agree to start trying for a baby, the first time you have sex after that conversation Sasuke hadn’t been aware you were ovulating. You blurted it out in the middle of having a knee pressed to your chest.

Sasuke paused, hips pressed firm to your ass, and said “Aw, are we gonna make a baby tonight? How sweet.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ‣ ‣ visual here .ᐟ

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where sasuke likes to fuck ༝༝ }

The bed, no doubt. He’s also fond of the couch. Any place that’s comfortable and doesn’t raise the difficulty level of functioning with one arm.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ sasuke’s thoughts on oral ༝༝ }

Sitting that sweet pussy on his tongue is what he prefers. It’s easier for him to cup the swell of your ass, to help guide your clit across his tongue, and he swats you every now then to hear your breath hitch. When you thread your fingers through his hair and hold tight, Sasuke’s scalp tingles. It shoots straight to his cock.

Getting his dick sucked is a different matter. He admits that he does enjoy admiring your face while you work him over with your tongue. Placing kisses along his shaft, taking him deep until you choke, but he loves your pussy so much more.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ sasuke and quickies ༝༝ }

Sasuke enjoys a quickie every once and awhile. If you want him to fuck you fast and hard before you leave, he’s down. He’ll bend you over the kitchen counter, let you ride him on the couch, whatever you want he’s willing to give.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ what’s sasuke’s stamina like? ༝༝ }

Not everyone has endless stamina during sex, and that’s okay. Sasuke happens to be one of those people. He’s average.

He does last long enough to leave you breathless and satisfied, and on occasion, if you both put in the effort, he can get it up for multiple rounds. You definitely take advantage of those nights.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does sasuke like to tease you? ༝༝ }

The part of Sasuke that convinces him to act like a little shit never changes. He loves you, and he’s squishy like a marshmallow on the inside for you, so of course he teases.

It’s all playful, never pushing too far. The nights when you straddle Sasuke’s thighs, take his cock in hand and stroke him until he’s fully hard for a second round, he’ll smooth his hand up and down your side, smirking when he coos “Oh baby, your pussy needs my cock again, doesn’t she? I’ll give it to you, don’t whine.” He’ll pinch your ass, clutch the back of your thigh, and help you bounce to your hearts desire.

[mungdou]

DANDELIONS

PR. ushijima x reader; semi x reader

W. swears

GR. angst

WC. 2.4k

AN. Oh I live for ushijima angst. Anyways, requests are open as of 06/2024 :)) go ham pookies. Inspired by dandelions by Ruth. B.

(pt. 2)

『Maybe, it's the way you say my name Maybe, it's the way you play your game But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you』

"y/l/n. May I ask you a question?" Ushijima turned around to look at your distant figure, clipboard in hand.

"Mm? What's up Toshi?" You replied, smiling up at the larger man.  

His bulky body blocked most of your vision, but he wasn't clumsy. His voice was deep and commanding, but never once did it demand anything from anyone. He was the gentle giant in your life, but you couldn't help but wish he were your gentle giant.

Of course, you weren't the only one who felt the same for the man, but he had always been oblivious to any advances.

"Why do you not have a second manager to aid your business? I notice you tend to rush around, so for your sake, please recruit another manager." He wiped his sweat-covered neck with a small white towel and took a sip of water before running back out on the court to continue practice, called back by the sharp whistle.

He cares about you.

He didn't stick around for your response, but you made sure that you took up his suggestion.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

During lunch the day after, you posted flyers around the school asking for assistant managers. As expected, the applications came rapidly and your eyes landed on one.

Aoi Nishiyama, second year, experience with managing outdoor youth sports clubs

She was perfect.

Two days later, after her confirmation, you found a girl peeking through the gym doors.

"Hello? Is there something I can help you with?" As you approached her, you noticed that it was Nishiyama. "Oh! Nishiyama-"

"Oh, you can just call me Aoi." She shyly grinned, turning towards you.

"Aoi. I'm so glad you decided to join us! Come with me, I have to give you a tour and- oh! What size are you? I need it for your uniform fitting-" Once again, you were interrupted, but this time by the olive-skinned ace.

"y/l/n. Who is this?" Ushijima looked at the timid girl with interest.

"Oh yes! Toshi this is-"

"Aoi. Aoi Nishimiya, but you can just call me Aoi." She stumbled out, her face flushed red with... embarrassment?

Ushijima greeted her, his hand lingering in the air before he turned away to get back to practice. He almost looked flustered, though someone could have easily missed his changed expression.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After a month of Aoi working with us on the volleyball team, the team outing took place. It was in a large field, perfect for leisure games and a summer barbecue.

The third years sat in a field, covered in fluffy white dandelions.

"Let's make a wish!" Tendou proposed, leaping onto his lanky legs, and running around to face the rest of the third years before plopping back onto the ground.

"We're too old for this, you dumbass." Semi glared at the redhead.

"I've never partaken in this wishing process. How is it done?" Ushijima furrowed his eyebrows.

You took two dandelions out from the ground and handed one to him. He inspected the hollow stemmed plant, rotating it every so often. His actions were mesmerizing, you didn't want to pull your eyes away.

Tendou plucked his flower out of the ground, smiling, "So! You take the dandelion and you blow it and make your wish, but make sure you don't-"

"My wish is to be in love with someone on the volleyball team." Ushijima bluntly stated before huffing at the delicate flower.

Something about the statement startles you, and your face begins to heat up.

"-say your wish out loud... but anyways... who is it Wakatoshi-kun??" You do like girls, yes?" Tendou peruses, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed.

"Yes."

"Hmmmm... There are only two girls on the team, yes? Aoi-chan and y/n/n-san... Which could it be... WAIT! Everyone everyone, place your bets! Y/N/N-SANNNN you're part of this bet so you can't participate~" Tendou muses, whipping out his phone to take notes.

At this point, your face is beet red, buried in your hands, your eyelids shut closed. Tendou runs around, asking the other 3rd years for their thoughts.

"AND THE BETS HAVE BEEN PLACED!" The guess monster beamed, "Now, state your reasons!!"

"I think it's the way he looks at Aoi. He's always looking in her direction with some kind of determination or something"

That's because you're with her, right?

"Nah~ it's probably y/n, I mean, they've known each other since middle school, and he's super open with her"

Exactly, you've known him for so much longer, it only makes sense.

"No it's totally Aoi, what do you mean y/n?? Do you see how quickly he got along with her?"

He got along with you quickly too, though.

"Guys I'm right here-" You sighed, your face remaining the shade of a cherry. "But continue I guess."

"Aoi." His deep voice resonated in your body, shocking every bone in it. His face lightened as he lightly smiled.

Bouts of cheering, groans, and laughter filled the air, but all you could do was stare at Ushijima and try not to drop your jaw. The thoughts began to rush through your brain, laced with insecurity.

How did she captivate him like that?

What does he like about her?

What does she have that you don't?

You looked down at the fluffy flower in your hand. Its delicate seeds could carry your wish far and wide, but would it even be received?

『'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions Wishing on everyone that you'll be mine, mine』

It doesn't matter, right? You might as well try, even if it doesn't work.

"Fuuuuu" You exhaled onto the delicate ball.

I want Toshi to realize I'm perfect for him... No no... that's too creepy...

I want Wakatoshi Ushijima to like me.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

That day, he confessed to Aoi. The boys had run around the field looking for the girl, and when they found her, they practically picked her up and transported her to Toshi.

It wasn't hard for him to confess to her, he was straightforward, as usual. She ended up saying that she reciprocated his feelings, and they started dating.

It wasn't too hard to bear in the beginning. They would sit at your table during lunch and chat with the other members of the team, Ushijima would hold her much smaller hand in his callused ones. As they ate, Aoi would lean on his shoulder affectionately.

I wish that were me.

Not long after, you noticed you had become shunned by the others at the table. If you put a word in the conversation, you would either be ignored or spoken over as they continued the conversation. Most of the time, it was Aoi speaking over you. It hurt, admittedly. Your friends. People you had known for years had, for the first time, left you out of a conversation, attracted to the sweet and innocent voice of Aoi Nishimiya. The girl they met only 2 months ago.

Eventually, they forgot you were even there.

This began to creep into your practices and hangouts, all of which Aoi attended. you acted as you did, caring for those there, making jokes, being... yourself.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

About a week later, you were approached by Ushijima, who had an extra serious face. To be honest, he looked almost constipated. His walk had a hesitant swagger to it as he came towards me. Far behind him was Aoi, fiddling her thumbs and looking the other way.

"Y/n."

『'Cause it gets so hard to breathe When you're looking at me, I've never felt so alive and free When you're looking at me, I've never felt so happy』

"Tosh... Ushijima-san" You smiled, the stress washing away. Finally, someone wanted to talk to you, to be in... no... to acknowledge your presence.

"We should– hanging... together. It... Aoi uncomfortable." Ushijima muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe your ears... Was he saying what you thought he was? "I'm sorry... could you repeat that? I couldn't understand you."

"We should–" He pauses, clearing his throat. "We should stop meeting. It makes Aoi uncomfortable."

Your head jerked up. "What?" You whispered, though your voice seemed to bellow through the silent indoor court, bouncing off the walls. "What... I... Follow me." Your voice lowered and you grabbed his wrist, dragging the ace out of the room.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" You demanded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

"Excuse me?"

Your face contorted with fury, your hands balled into fists. It took every ounce of your body to hold yourself back.

"Does me being around... make you uncomfortable?" You quivered in anger, looking straight into his unbothered eyes. "Does it?" Your voice was unnaturally cold and it took every ounce of you to not shout

"It-" He began.

"WHY-" Your voice shouted before catching yourself, "Am I that annoying? Is there something I can change? I'll do anything you want me to, just say what's wrong with me, I'll fix it."

A person in love will do anything to be appreciated by the one they adore.

All you want is for him to be happy, but you can't.. no you can't live without him. You can't imagine your life without him, even if it isn't in the way You want it to be.

"You do make me uncomfortable." Five words, and you began to crumble.

"If you'd like to know the truth, you are overly affectionate."

crack.

"You cannot set boundaries, even though you know I am in a relationship."

snap.

"You don't know how to stop being a people pleaser who can't help but say yes."

crack.

"You are nothing but a thorn in my side. You often distract me from playing right and you've created a rift in my romantic life. There is nothing for you to fix because nothing is there to fix. You have always been this way and you will always be this way."

crumble.

Satisfied with his words, he walked back into the enclosed court, greeting his girlfriend standing behind the gray doors. She peered out towards your frozen body, pity and satisfaction lacing her face.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The air in the gym was cold, not a noise to be heard throughout the massive building. They all heard him say that. They all knew it was wrong. You weren't a nuisance to Ushijima, but no one wanted to say anything otherwise to the ace.

"Y/n-" Semi stepped forward, reaching out to try and comfort you, but Leon put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from rushing out. Tendou and Goshiki looked towards the ace trudging back to practice, Aoi running up to him with big eyes and a volleyball in hand to toss for practice.

You couldn't move. you didn't want to move. Semi shrugged off Leon's hand and stepped outside. "Let's go. C'mon." His hand dropped to the small of your back and guided your back out. It felt like all of the blood left your body and all that was left was your dull husk. You walked for a while. You don't know how long it took, but soon you could see the local convenience store in the distance. You plopped down on a brick fence and fat, warm, tears began to fall. You guessed the initial shock wore off, but the tears wouldn't stop, and soon your eyes were blurry with tears.

After a while, a blue fuzzy object appeared. You blinked away the salty tears, drying them with your sleeves, and saw a soda ice pop on your lap. "Here. Sweets help the tears." Semi gently said, smiling at you. In his hands, he had an unopened pack of tissues.

"You must think I'm pathetic. Hah, everyone probably thinks that at this point, ooh what's y/n without Ushiwaka, she's his dog." You waved your hands around, mocking god knows what. You looked down and opened the packaging. "Why are you here anyway? Don't you have practice? Coach Washijo's gonna yell at you again. Anyways... Thanks for the pop... you didn't have t-"

"I wanted to be here. And it's not like I'm that important to the team, after all, we have Shirabu now for setting. I'll probably get yelled at a bit, but it's worth it. I'd rather you be with someone than alone." Semi blurted, he was trying his best.

You giggled, snorting before catching yourself. Semi looked reassured by that. "Mmm... it feels nice that someone's still on my side." You sat there in silence for a while, and soon your pops were down to the stick and the sun had set.

"You got a free pop." Semi pointed out, before grabbing the stick and walking into the store to redeem it. You can't understand why he's here, He could literally be anywhere else, so why here of all places?

"Y'know, she's not all that." He spoke, walking out and gesturing with you to walk with him. "But anyways, you should talk about it. At least let out how you feel, if you're comfortable, that is. It's better than bottling it up."

You looked down, not sure what to say. "I mean, I don't think that he's the kind of person to throw away a friendship for a relationship this early- or even ever. But I don't want to fight it, he can figure it out by himself." I ran a few feet ahead before whipping around to face Semi. I gestured to myself and bounced on the balls of my feet, "All I can say is that he's gonna be missing out on the joy I bring to the table." Semi paused, then doubled over laughing.

"You certainly have a way of getting over heartbreak." He walked up to you, hooking your arm in his. You smiled softly, leaning your head on his arm and holding his arm tightly as you walked back to the gym.

"Thank you, Semi-Semi." You murmured into his sleeve.

"You're welcome y/n... never tell Tendou I let you call me that" He smiled and looked down at the top of your head.

"No promises." You looked up, matching his serene expression. "Can't wait for the lecture we're gonna get in about 5 minutes."

Semi froze. "Shit."

AN: lmk if you want a pt. 2 :)

masterlist || request

[fallecupid]

VICTORIA NEUMAN | NSFW ALPHABET

: thanks for the request, in fact, writing about victoria was even easier than writing about donaldson.!!!

A — ( aftercare ) after sex, victoria often just hugs your body or whispers sweet nothings to reignite your excitation, but doesn't really mean it. also, it's definitely holy ground, like showering and changing cum-stained bedding.

B — ( body part ) neuman would be lying if she said it didn't matter. your neck, one of her few weaknesses, sometimes just wants to nuzzle into it and smell your scent or leave a couple of sweet hickeys on your delicate skin.

C — ( cum ) in particularly tense moments, it's not always possible to keep clean, so the white sheets of her soft bed suffer.

D — ( dirty secret ) victoria would like to practice role-playing or bdsm, it cannot be called a dirty secret, for she is not ashamed of her desires, but for some reason she has not yet voiced it.

E — ( experience ) you're not the first. victoria is definitely an experienced woman who knows where to stick her fingers in and where to run her tongue, yet you never have a slip of doubt that she's committed to one of her exes.

F — ( favourite position ) victoria prefers to fuck you while you sit on her lap, unable to pull away or be too willful. only to whimper into her neck and wriggle.

G — ( goofy ) victoria is pretty damn serious herself, but during sex she becomes more of a horny cat?

H — ( hair ) often, during sex, you tug victoria's hair, which is so damn attractive, she's ready to melt while your fingers slide through her thick curls.

I — ( intimacy ) she can afford to take you out to a restaurant or buy you any trinket, expressing her affection in this way. of course she can be romantic, if that's important to you.

J — ( jack off ) she herself doesn’t jerk off, she has damn little time for this, too much work and crap surrounding her on all sides. but watching you jerk off during sex is a different story, but it’s too typical when she doesn’t let you cum, right?

K — ( kink ) any kind of obedience. you often practice this and this kink has become too common in sex.

L — ( location ) it could be anywhere. whether it's her office or a bathroom stall, it depends.

M — ( motivation ) it doesn't take much for a warm feeling to build up in her lower abdomen, but she still particularly likes your boldness.

N — ( no ) victoria will never really hurt you. the woman is able to tell when you're languidly asking her to stop and when you're really uncomfortable.

O — ( oral sex ) she doesn't mind being sandwiched between your thighs while her tongue moistens your clit, listening to muffled moans.

P — ( pace ) victoria never rushes, slowly caressing you with her fingers while running her tongue over your naked skin. every touch is a tease.

Q — ( quickie ) absolutely not. no speed in sex.

R — ( risk ) she has no problem fucking you on the balcony of her office or squeezing you in a dark corner at an event.

S — ( stamina ) after all she's super, she has enough energy to fuck you once or twice, but then again if you're exhausted after the first time, she sees no point in continuing.

T — ( toys ) your sex with victoria is bad enough without having to spice it up with some kind of toy.

U — ( unfair ) victoria always does this, especially when you're ready to cum, she stretches that moment like a rubber, teasing you and provoking you at the same time.

V — ( volume ) surprisingly she doesn't like to make more noise than necessary, so she mostly whimpers into your hair or rubs against your chest at all.

W — ( wildcard ) when she's at a debate, more often than not, instead of being distracted by the sweaty men next to her, she's replaying your recent sex in her head while keeping her guard up.

X — ( x-ray ) —

Y — ( yearning ) something between 6-7/10 eventually she's a public figure, an active politician and her brain splits in two to keep it all in her head, need and work.

Z — ( Zzz ) victoria doesn't go to bed at once, she manages to work until the middle of the night, right after sex.

[kkentobox]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀nsfw abc! w/ jschlatt.

author’s note: as i’ve mentioned before, i’ve always wanted to make one of these sooo here it is! :D if you guys would want to see a sfw one, let me know <3 do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

A + AFTERCARE —- what they’re like after sex.

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt will always clean you up immediately after you guys are done, it doesn’t matter how long it was or who was doing the most work; he’s very quick to get up to grab a clean towel to clean you up and bring you water, maybe even a snack sometimes. after he makes sure you’re well hydrated is when he’ll pull you in close to hold you and press kisses to your forehead. it’s not him if he doesn’t cuddle you and fall asleep right after!

B + BODY PART —- their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

���⠀⠀⠀his favorite part of his body will always be his hands! he knows how much larger they are compared to yours, knowing how to use the extra length to his advantage.

⠀⠀⠀⠀it’s very obvious how in love he is with boobs, he doesn’t care how big or small they are; if they’re there, he’s grabbing them. however, your mouth comes as a close second in his eyes.

C + CUM —- anything to do with cum, basically.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i am a huge believer that he has a breeding kink, so he’ll definitely come inside most of the time as long as you continue to let him. before you guys tried it, he would always cum in the condom or on your chest.

D + DIRTY SECRET —- pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀huge pantie stealer, multiple pairs would go missing before laundry day and you begin to think the cats are just hiding them because of how embarrassed he is to admit that he’s staining your used panties with his cum. so whenever you guys go to the mall, he’ll buy you so many more so “you’ll stop whining”, little did you know, he’s helping you pick out his favorites so he can steal them later on.

E + EXPERIENCE —- how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt definitely seems like someone who prefers serious relationships over hookups or situationships, so i can see him having experience through his last partners. he knows what to do and knows a couple tricks, but he mainly focuses on learning how you like it. taking his time with you and making mental notes on what you enjoy more.

F + FAVORITE POSITION —- this goes without saying.

⠀⠀⠀⠀standing by the fact that i know he loves the intimacy of missionary. though, he also loves cowgirl and mating press. maybe even a full nelson if you’ve been acting up!

G + GOOFY —- are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he likes to keep things relatively serious considering he values how intimate it is to have sex, but he’ll always crack a smile if he notices how cute you look during the moment or just because how much he adores you.

H + HAIR —- how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i cannot see him being fully shaven, you guys see how much hair he has. it’s not a full bush because he trims it down, but there’s a good patch of hair that lightly tickles your nose when you go down on him.

I + INTIMACY —- how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a true gentleman in the bedroom when you’re not misbehaving! he’s very touchy in the moment, the type to hold you close that you’re suffocating, the one that holds your hands during missionary. he’s also a huge sucker for heavy eye contact, he loves seeing how telling your eyes are.

J + JACK OFF —- masturbation headcanon.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the j in jschlatt stands for jacking off. before you guys started dating, he definitely had to touch himself six days out of the week because of how pent up he was from work. he doesn’t really bother to do anything to himself now unless you guys have to be apart, but even then, he needs to see you to actually get off.

K + KINK —- one or more of their kinks.

⠀⠀⠀⠀breeding & size kinks are big ones for him, without a doubt. light choking, slapping, degradation & edging on both ends, praising, role-play, dry humping !!

L + LOCATION —- favorite places to have sex.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the bedroom, his office, his car, quite literally anywhere in the house. when you guys moved in, it’s become a tradition to have sex in every room of the house to truly make it home.

M + MOTIVATION —- what turns them on, gets them going.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a simple man in my eyes. lingerie, arguing with you, seeing you in his clothes, hearing you say you want him, thigh highs, watching you get really excited about the things he does for you, when you catch an attitude with him, buying things for you + watching you try them on, making home videos.

N + NO —- something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀age play, animal roleplay, dubcon and any fluids that come out of you are hard no’s for him.

O + ORAL —- preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i see him enjoying pleasing you more, always hungry to go down on you at any hour of the day. waking you up with head, bending you over the counter while you’re making food, etc. though, he could never resist or deny you of giving him head, he’s a man after all. he’s a good balance of both.

P + PACE —- are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a mix of both! there’s days where all he wants to do is make passionate love to you over and over, letting you take all his love. there’s other days where he can’t help but give you the meanest, harshest thrusts that make your mind go numb. he’ll grab ahold of your neck, gently squeezing as he forces you to look at him while he pounds into you.

Q + QUICKIES —- their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he prefers doing the actual thing and being able to take his time, but he also can’t help himself or wait until you guys are in the comfort of your home. sometimes he needs five minutes in a friend’s bathroom or pulls over on the side of the road for a quickie, it all depends on how needy you guys are.

R + RISK —- are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s willing to experiment with you, but he’s still very cautious about doing things in public. the biggest risk you guys take is when he takes you over his gaming set-up, knowing all it takes is a slip of a button to go live and show everyone the mess he’s making of you.

S + STAMINA —- how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

⠀⠀⠀⠀there’s an average of five to six rounds with him, he just cannot get enough of you and will not stop until he feels he’s dumped everything he has into you. he can last a while, but as you guys get closer to calling it is when he starts to get overly sensitive and cums really quick.

T + TOYS —- do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s begun to grow a collection just for you, though the vibrators have recently become used for the both of you. has multiple dildos, vibrators, handcuffs that he’s ordered specifically for you! the recent order being a dildo made identical to his cock.

U + UNFAIR —- how much they like to tease.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the biggest tease known to man, especially if you’ve been bratty recently or needed him to put you in your place. he’ll deny your orgasms every single time until you have tears streaming down your face and beg for him to accept your apologies.

V + VOLUME —- how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he seems more like a dirty talker to me, especially when he gets closer to his orgasm. i can see him maybe groaning or grunting more than actually moaning; unless you have him on the bottom. then he’s whimpering quietly under his breath, trying to keep quiet.

W + WILD CARD —- a random headcanon for the character.

⠀⠀⠀⠀as mentioned before, he has a thing for seeing you angry during arguments or just when you’re moody and decide to give him attitude. something about seeing you angry makes his cock jump in his pants, he doesn’t know if it’s because of how endearing he always finds you or if you just become ten times more attractive when you look angry.

X + X-RAY —- let’s see what’s going on under those clothes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀big dick. huge. i don’t see him being much a grower? you’ve seen how huge he is compared to most people, i know he’s packing. seeing maybe 6.5 inches soft, 7 inches hard in his tarot cards. he’s not overly girthy, but he gives you a nice stretch every time that requires prep beforehand.

Y + YEARNING —- how high is their sex drive?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he can go for hours seeing as it takes him some effort to cum, but he’s always putting your pleasure before his own anyways. you guys are probably doing it at least once or twice every day because of his high libido, but he makes it worth it.

Z + ZZZ —- how quickly they fall asleep afterwards.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s out like a light as soon as he’s done with his aftercare, usually because of how intense his orgasms are, he just needs to sleep to get his energy back.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

it's not about that you "have" to get to exercise your autonomy. b/c like, yes you do, but not in the way that "if i don't get to do that Now i will explode & evaporate (& die)" which is what people keep leveraging to be like "so you don't have any valid argument for getting to act out your own choices"

therein is another issue of "why do you need a 'valid argument' to get Exceptions as ruled by this person to exist autonomously, unpunished" like why's this person an authority who gets to punish you. nonrhetorically, why do you have to appeal to their maybe possibly deciding to Let you be a person. should you "have" to.

and if you don't get that Permission that you supposedly "have" to get, you also will not immediately explode and die if you do that unpermitted thing, but shocking how "you don't Haaaave to" is only invoked re: things you want to do for yourself, and not what they want you to do for them....because it's Not Really About "Literally literally Haaaaving to"

the alignment between people getting on one for years about asexuality, and while doing so maxing out the saturation on their bullshit on any & everything, b/c you're just getting into anti autonomy, so ofc you're also just stoking & expressing "arguments" against autonomy that are deployed in plenty of other contexts, including against other queer identities....and that particular resonance with biphobia & transphobia, and how either groups are theoretically thwarting the Truest Gays because how will we have a valid argument against the truest cishets agenda if we can't convince them we haaaaaave to be like this instead of that no, we won't explode & die if we have to be repressed or at least closeted another day, and another, and you won't explode after another, either, etc. rather than thee point of "asexuality autonomy = queer autonomy = Your queer autonomy = Anyone's Autonomy" and "why do we 'have' to Convince anyone to go 'oh alriiiight' abt one's choices about how they express their identity, what decisions they make about having sex"....it's about anyone having the power to preclude & restrict others' autonomy & constrain their existence between one kind of more imminent, immediate harm/death & a more drawn out one where you exist as a resource for others' use but at least you aren't Literally dead today. so what if someone's saying "well i don't think your gender/sexuality stuff is Real" so long as they can't get in the way of other people living that out anyways. so what if someone's supposedly like "well, but everyone could be bi" (which they don't. just like ppl were never 'pretending' to be asexual to nefariously stand around in the queer space that never rigorously vetted everyone anyways? Making Up A Guy To Get Mad At) to supposedly argue that if all of you are bi you can just restrict yourself to the Cishet Appearing manifestations (which they don't) where what's that even matter if this [guy to get mad at] can't make that anyone else's problem? if he can, why can he. should he be able to. that's the problem, not "have we all tried the constant biphobia wherein they're always thwarting & sabotaging the rest of us?? like how trans people are keeping us from being legitimate?? with the opportunity for some trans people to also try declaring other noncis people Not Legitimately Trans?? well the cishet agenda loves asexuals, actually, they want everyone to never have sex ever (they don't want that, and that's not what being asexual is)"

using the "you can't Know through Direct Perception or extrasensory phenomena what someone else's Thoughts And Feelings are" both ways; wherein their assertion of their intentions, true or not, gets to be treated as an assertion of Reality, meanwhile b/c Your intentions/thoughts/feelings can't be directly observed, you're just lying or exaggerating or misremembering or failing to Express yourself correctly b/c they would've surely interpreted it correctly otherwise, or [anything else] re: your inner experiences that you can't "prove" are one way or another, so this other person gets to always decide for themself what they must be (why?) and if they just so happen to decide they Must be in alignment with what they want (good) or unacceptably, evilly, incorrectly Against Them, they also get to flex their control over the entire situation via their Authority / control over resources / the person's lack of other options b/c of isolation & that, say, breaking away from a family, job, marriage or just deemed correctly romantic relationship, is punished by the larger system of How Things Are, through a lack of resources that makes you more vulnerable in general as well as vulnerable to further punishment in how you might try to respond to that situation, through the general stance that maintaining cohesion of a Unit like the nuclear family, the "romantic" "man"/"woman" couple, is good, so breaking from it is deviant........anyways it's like. if you're like "well i'm having sex b/c i want to" and someone is like "well i say YOURE LYING" like, what? "isn't there someone you forgot to ask" shit. why should that get to affect things. whether you're like "oh no. what if they could say 'you're lying...b/c how do i knowwww you're not BI. where you could want to have sex with someone BESIDES this one person rn?? or ACE??? if you Don't have sex rn and you Don't explode and die 5 min later we will Know you Could Be Asexual" like, this isn't how it works anyways obviously but theoretically if it did: we would not be like "oh sorry guess that's what matters" unless what mattered was some people's being lower on a hierarchy and at the quite literal disposal of those with more power than them. what would the crisis be of someone going "well i think. every gay person? is bi" or someone going "you've just told me your name is gloria but i think your name is actually tetris...." or "i'm so embarrassed i wish everyone but me was dead" if none of these things can hinder the existence of people having sex w/autonomy for all involved or people getting to tell you their name or all other people being alive

the banger quote on my imdb page was saying "no, i don't 'Have' to, but i'm going to" to an authoritarian in my life, concluding several minutes' "negotiation" of [i 'have' to hang up on this call now b/c the movie i'm standing in this movie theater to see is about to start. no i won't explode and die if i don't. i also won't explode and die if i don't keep "talking" to you (being Talked At / lectured & upbraided from afar)] funny how that works. i also Know this was a checkmate b/c that person gave up on responding (or, technically, switched to The Silent Treatment, which worked even worse via phone than in person) and i did hang up rather than miss the movie i showed up for and then they had to resort to Other Methods: telling someone willing to take on the enabling cop mode that i had Essentially said Go Fuck Yourself. like well that's right, and the fact that it's a "go fuck yourself" to get to say "i am going to end the call b/c i choose to do something else" and then actually do so is a real testament to this relationship. and if one had said "i can't keep talking, i have to go" and someone's like "sldfj you mean thou MAY not keep talking" teehee i don't know, CAN you have the peas????? it's like this obviously doesn't matter. i can choose to do shit and choose to not do shit without exploding and dying right this very second, except for taking 5 sec to eat a deadly bomb with a timer set for 5 sec. This Is Not The Point. why is autonomy off-limits to Anyone.

[enhaeil]

NITE AND DAY! ☆ 엔하이픈

"i can tell you how i feel about you, nite and day."

nite and day - al b. sure

ENHYPEN AT A COOKOUT!

c/w: implied black reader... but i mean, anybody can read ig!

heeseung

"baby i'm so nervous to meet your family. i mean what if they hate my gifts? what if they hate me? do i stink?-"

you cut him off, laughing at his nerves. "hee, my momma already loves you, so you're one step ahead. and for the record, you don't stink. you smell like me."

"not my fault. i can't keep you off of me." he says smuggly.

you roll your eyes playfully before opening your car door. "last time i checked it was you who couldn't stay off of me, mr. made-us-late." you say as you walk up the stairs to your porch. you look behind you and notice heeseung still nervously standing in front of the house.

"heeseung, get your ass in this house!"

jay

your family decided it was about time they hosted a family reunion. it would be the first family event since you and jay got married, so you thought it'd be a good idea to go.

you finish ironing the reunion shirts and throw yours on, handing jay his. you turn around in the mirror to look at where it shows your now shared last name on the back.

"mr. and mrs. park huh? who would've thought!" he says, wrapping a hand around your waist. he leans down to press a kiss on your lips before you guys head out for the busy day.

you finally arrive at the house and are immediately bombarded with family. jay feels a little awkward at first, but once the family starts giving out hugs, he's in.

you run inside to help your mom prepare some food real quick and leave jay with your brothers.

"excuse me," he feels a small hand tug on his pants. "who are you?"

he looks down at the voice and notices a small child, presumably your niece. he crouches down to her height. "well, i'm your uncle jay."

"hi uncle jay. do you want to play dollies with us?" how could jay say no to such a cute face?

by the time you come back out, jay is standing by the grill with a 'kiss the chef' apron on. you dont hesitate to make your way over there and give him a smooch.

"looks you're fitting right in baby." you say as you wipe some sweat off his forehead with a cloth.

jake

you left for 3 minutes, and you come back out to your boyfriend jake being tackled by all your little cousins.

you rush over there to save him, yanking the little ones off one by one and helping him up off the grass.

"jakey. mind explaining what happened?" you giggle, dusting grass out of his hair.

"it started off as one. then two. then the whole stampede came running towards me. they really love their uncle jake!" he says, catching his breath.

you drag him towards the food table, fixing his plate as he takes a breather. "here, you've probably worked up an appetite."

he wastes no time chowing down. he finishes his food quickly, holding his stomach as he leans back.

"you know what this experience has made me realize, y/n?" he says casually. you hum, waiting for him to continue.

"i'm ready to have a baby." you almost choke on your potato salad.

"a baby, jake? i mean,... sure, but at least put a ring on me first!"

"i'm already one step ahead of you, babe."

sunghoon

sunghoon is usually reserved and to himself around new people. however, your family has seemed to turn him into a new man.

you're flipping some meat on the grill before you feel your mans presence behind you. he wraps his arms around your waist, swaying you to the beat of the music playing.

"hi, hoonie. what's up?" you say as place your hand over his.

"i was thinking. we should take your little cousins ice skating one day." he presses a soft kiss against your check.

"you think so? what, you wanna show off your skills?" he chuckles and nods his head.

"of course and i think it'll-" he starts before he's cut off.

"aye hoon!!! come over here for a round of dominos."

"gotta go, baby, your cousins are about to teach me how to play their version of dominos!!" he says, running off like an excited kid.

sunoo

sunoo wanted to make the best impression on your family, so for the potluck, he decided to make dishes from his culture.

you watched your boyfriend as he slaved over the stove to whip up some samgyeopsal and tteok, making sure they taste perfect.

you can't help but go up to him and kiss his cheek. "it's so cute how hard you're working, noo. they're gonna love whatever you make."

"i sure hope so. i mean, y/n. these are my future in-laws we're talking about here. i refuse to be known as the brother in law who can't even boil water!"

"that will never happen! and if it does, i'll cook something, and we can say you did it." you giggle.

jungwon

jungwon had never been to a cookout before. actually, he's never been to a black cookout. man was so excited he slept next to his outfit instead of you.

you sit by the coolers as you watch jungwon mingle with your uncles. before he comes jogging back to you.

"hi won, you hungry?" you say, standing up to hug him. he presses a kiss onto your cheek before replying. "yes, let's eat!"

you fix jungwon's plate and you guys sit down and eat together. the moment he takes that first bite you swear you see his eyes light up.

"y/n. baby." he says, one cheek stuffed with chicken. you hum in return.

"i think i just fell in love."

jungwon definitely returned for seconds and a to-go plate.

niki

you were home for college and decided to bring your boyfriend back with you. every spring, your family held a reunion, and niki decided to tag along.

"are you sure i'm not invading, y/n? i mean, it's a family reunion." he says, watching you do your makeup in the mirror.

"no nik, you're good, i promise. as long as you're with me, you're family."

that afternoon, you guys arrive at the park where it was being held and make your way to the picnic area.

everyone greets you and niki as the party starts to kick off.

niki is awkward, and he doesn't know what to do at first until some of your male relatives drag him away.

by the time you see riki again, it's as if he's a different person. "y/n, baby!! come here and dance with me" he says, holding on to your waist as y'all "step in the name of love."

what does he even know about that?

[gofishygo]

i know that everyone says this but the mw3 rm soap death was shit awful . looking back at it, logistically , it shouldn’t have happened .

so the first injury in this was soap being shot in the right shoulder (most likely in joint tendon region) . pretty painful , and if did hit in the area i believe it did , would hinder mobility in the upper right region of the body (neck, arm, some torso muscles .

HOWEVER !! soap has proven to be shot in similar or worse regions in other missions and has been able to carry through and complete objective alive .

what you are seeing is a move that should have killed makarov instantly . this is a stab performed to the external jugular vein (and due to soaps experience , possibly a carotid artery . i was taught this attack in weapons studies , my friends in the military were also taught that this region is one of the quickest ways to krill . (not giving murder advice just trying to prove a point please don’t ban me) not to mention this is immensely painful . realistically , mans should have dropped then and there . not to mention there were sas soldiers who should have opened fire the second they saw him anyways ??

now THIS is the part that pisses me off the most. see makarov’s lock ? that actively engages the trapezius and scalene muscles , which would be DIRECTLY affected from the stab would . combined with the fact that soap is (estimated) 80-90 kgs , he would not have been able to perform that lock let alone hold it .

and with soap being part of the fucking MILITARY , he should have been able to get out of that by a) breaking the locked arm and using the other hand to either disarm / kill makarov (which he should have been able to handle , especially judging by the fucking alone mission) or b) hitting the back of makarovs knee to send them both to the ground, slip under him to not break his arm and hit em w the buck+trap+flip to get a vantage, and then continue the fight from there, which should be very short anyways considering that makarov’s bleeding out faster than a fucking SNAKE STRIKE . and somehow with the majestic force of activision giving less than 2 fucks about all the characters and medical theory there , makarov manages to get a straight aim and shoot soap straight through the ear ??!! and then bolt past a fuck ton of bullets that should have BEEN FIRED ON HIM EARLIER and then hurl himself INTO A TRAIN . if you wanted to kill of one of the leads in the modern warfare series , do it in a way that is well written and thought out and accurate .

[naturesapphic]

I lovedddd the lunch interview fic sm! do you think ur able to write a continuation of it? like smut about the experience she was talking about (her first time w reader) and the reader is guiding billie through it? :)

First Time

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff

Sequel

A/n: 1600 words!!! 😎🙏🏻

Billie and you have been together for about six months now and it’s been the absolute best. You’ve had a girlfriend before but it never lasted long enough to where anything sexual happened but you’ve had hookups before. Billie had hookups to, they were with men, but she never had a first time with a woman before. So when the two of you were on the couch, making out, things were getting heated fast.

“B-Billie…f-fuck…” you moaned out softly as Billie pulled away from your lips with a pop and went to your neck, suckling on the skin. She started leaving hickeys all over your neck and she started going down to your chest. Billie looked up at you and you could see how nervous she was. “C-can I take your shirt off?” Billie asked shyly and you felt yourself smile, knowing that this may be the first time y’all will have sex.

“Yes you can take it off. Are you sure you’re ready bills? I don’t want to rush you.” You explained to her as you went up and brushed some of her hair away from her face. She leaned into your touch and nodded her head at your question. You pulled away so you can take off your shirt and you felt Billie’s eyes stay on you the entire time. “Let me help you with this mama…” she whispered as she gently took your hands away from your bra and glided her hands on your back.

She unclasped the bra and slowly took it off of you, your breast falling free. Her eyes grew hungry at the sight of you already and you weren’t even fully naked yet. Billie took your breast in her soft hands and started massaging them gently in her hold. You let out a whimper and you bit your lip. “So beautiful…I love your tits babygirl…” she breathed out as she let them go but licks her lips as her mouth grows closer to your nipples. “May I mama?” She asked as she looked up at you.

“Billie baby you can do absolutely anything you want to me.” You told her and she smiles. She leans down and takes your nipple between her plump lips, suckling on them softly. You felt your panties get damp at the pleasure you were already receiving as Billie is sucking on your breast. Billie kept switching nipples and by the time she was done, you were a moaning mess. She pulled away from your nipple with a pop and licked her lips as her gaze shifted up to your eyes.

“You taste so good…I need more..” Billie rasped out and she sat up with you on her lap and made sure your legs were secured around her waist. You let out a squeal at the sudden movement and giggled when Billie ran up the stairs up to y’all’s room. She kicked the door open and gently laid you out on the bed. Realization hit her features and she immediately got all shy which made you coo at her. “Baby it’s okay if you aren’t ready.” You said as you sat up and looked at you with a smile.

Billie shook her head and went closer to you. “No I want to…it’s just…this is my first time doing this…” she explained and your eyes soften at her confession. You stood on your feet and wrapped your arms around her neck. “Don’t worry baby…I can guide you through it okay? Do you want me to pleasure you first or do you want to pleasure me…” you said as you unwrapped your arms and placed your hands on her chest. “I really want to pleasure you…I’ve been thinking about doing it for so long mama…” Billie whispered as she pulled you closer to her by your waist.

You nodded and decided to tease her further by stepping back and looking at her with fake innocence in your eyes. You slowly took off your sweatpants, revealing your baby blue see through thong that made Billie’s eyes widen. “Fuck baby…” she rasped as her eyes stayed glued to your lower half making you blush. You slowly pulled down your underwear and threw it at her making her catch it. You smiled when she placed your thong in her Jean pocket and crossed her arms as she kept watching you.

You turned around and started crawling on the bed, making sure your ass was popping out as you crawled to the headboard. You turned over so you were laying on your back and you lifted up your hand, making a come closer movement with your finger. Billie immediately crawled over to you and was on top of you, she immediately leaned down to capture your lips in hers in a hungry kiss. You wrap your legs around her waist and you moaned in the kiss of your bare pussy rubbing against the material of her jeans. Her tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission and her gladly gave it to her.

You opened your mouth and let her tongue invade your mouth, not even fighting for dominance, just letting her take control. Her tongue was exploring all in your mouth as you started grinding your throbbing pussy on her. She smiled in the kiss, feeling you hump against her and she pulled away from the kiss. You gently take her hand and put it on your wet folds and told her to start rubbing. Her index and middle finger starts to rub over your folds until she parted them and went to your clit instantly making your hips jerk.

She smiled and watched your face contort in pleasure and it was all done by her. “W-what do I do n-now?” Billie asked shyly and you bit your lip. “E-enter a finger I-in m-me…just like if you were m-master bating b-baby.” You explained to her and she nodded her head. Of course that’s how you do it she thought, she was just so nervous that she’s not even thinking straight. Her index finger glided down to your entrance and pushed her way in making you moan loudly. “F-fuck!” You breathed out as Billie starts pumping her finger in and out of you. She gives you a smile and admires you as you lay there in complete bliss.

“Do you want me to add another finger mama?” Billie asked you and you nodded your head eagerly making her chuckle. She adds in her index finger which made your arch your back at the fullness you were feeling. “I-I’m g-gonna cum!” You moaned out as your legs started to shake and your eyes clamped shut at your orgasm approaching. Billie’s lips grow into a huge grin at your words and feels pride in them. “Cum for me babygirl…come on…I need to taste you..” she says lowly and that added fuel to the fire because in the next few seconds you were cumming hard on her fingers. She pulled out her fingers and instantly put them in her mouth, sucking on them until your juices were clean off. She moaned at your taste and went between your legs as she starts cleaning you up with her tongue.

You moan out as she spreads your thighs farther apart as she slurps your juices. She moans into you making you moan louder by the vibrations and she smirks against you. Her warm long tongue soon enters your pulsating hole and you felt your body arch at the sensation she’s giving you. Billie starts to tongue fuck you and you swear you start to see stars. You grab onto the back of her head as she fucks and eats you like you are last meal. Your legs were shaking again and she felt your walls close in on her tongue and she moved her nose that was on your clit and that’s what set you off.

You came all in her mouth and she starts cleaning you again but you had to push her head away, whining at the sensitivity you were feeling. She pulls away and has a sheepish smile on her face as she lays beside you in the bed. “Sorry baby…didn’t realize that you were getting sensitive.” She said and you smiled tiredly at her, cuddling into her as she wraps her arms around your warm body. “Did I do good mamas?” Billie asked nervously. Your heart melted and you cupped her face in your hands making her smile. “You did absolutely amazing baby. I never came so hard and fast in my life.” I say smirking and Billie’s whole face gets red from blushing.

“I’m glad I did good…I’m definitely going to be tasting you more later…but you need your rest.” Billie said with a smirk and this time you started to blush. You shook your head with a smile on your face and laid your head on your girlfriend’s soft plush chest. “I love you y/n…thank you for trusting me and guiding me through it.” She said thanking you. “Of course…I’m honored to be your first time and when we wake up IM going to be pleasuring you.” You said with a smirk at the end and Billie giggled. “We’ll see who wins first princess.” She said teasingly and you smiled and closed your eyes, the two of you falling into a deep sleep in each others arms.

A/n: I hope the anon and the rest of y’all enoyed it! I WORKED HARD ON THIS SO BLOW IT UP WOOP WOOP! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all. A bunch of Billie fics coming out ;)

[aghostinmyownmachine]

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