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kaizynofsickness · 10 hours

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Brain is rotting

Boyfriend!Sukuna headcanons (fluff/general relationship, angst, smut), true form Sukuna. MDNI

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who was insanely fond of you when he first met you, in his own sick and twisted ways. He wouldn't stop thinking of you, and for a second he thought you were powerful enough to make his brain disfunctional and think of you only. Until he leaned what it is called—he was aware of the emotion, just hated the feeling—love.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who wants to have you to himself already. I mean, you're so tiny compared to his all mighty four armed monstrous form, eyes glaring down at you. So what if your scared? Scared that he'll kill you when you're the one killing him, heart and brain all in one.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who will never admit it, but is dying to see you. Well, as much as he can get close to dying. He isn't needy and up your ass like someone else, he can go without your voice for a week.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is highly interested in the way you speak. Telling him that whenever you're away from him and waiting you're 'screaming and biting your fist.' at first, he thought it was funny to imagine. Until he grabs a hold of your fist, almost aggressively. "Stop biting yourself like a dog." His way of saying, I'm highly concerned. Please don't hurt yourself.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who has fun with you to an extent when you help him rearrange his domain for the 100th time. It was nice having a partner to do his work with him.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is never fully out of character. Not even when you get your period. Yeah, he'll still hug you and allow you to lean on him, rub your back with his large and veiny hands. But don't expect much. He isn't going out of his way to help you because your bleeding. Blood is normal, and from what he heard it's not blood from a wound. So why complain?

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna and his way of using his rough hands to message you stomach and sides. "I am not your slave bitch." He grumbles and complains constantly about how you have him doing this and not the other way around. What is he to you, you mere human?

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is as possessive as he looks. Someone staring at you for too long? "'kuna, why is my friend missing?" Is what he expects to hear days later after the incident of the persons eyes lingering on you body for too long. "Dunno." He would brush it off quickly.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna who often makes sexist jokes. Like if you somehow can't cook right or lack amazing skills, he'll pop out that sexist joke of you being a terrible housewife.

Fluff!Boyfriend!Sukuna will regret saying some jokes like that if they end up hurting your feelings more than he intended them to. He won't apologize immediately and it will be a salty ass sorry. But next time you walk out to cook or do dishes, he will yank you away from that spot and let you watch him do it himself.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna started to hate how he acts around you. Either he's too mean and makes you cry or too nice and makes himself cringe. He misses how he used to be before you rotted his core with that dumbly cute smile.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who bites his tongue for the things he wants to say to you when you act out of line. Who clenches his fist until his nails dig blood out of his skin because he wants to cave you into a wall so bad. Yet he knows he'll loose you. So for once, he hurts himself. Not someone else.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who's arguments get heated really quickly. Sometimes, it's petty little things like why he burned you house down to force you to live with him or why he kicked a dog you actually liked, but it can get serious. Like when he's hurting someone for touching you innocently. That's when he ghost you for the longest.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who almost took a sort of pleasure in your tears, as toxic as that sounds. When he was arguing, you decided to simply cry. If you were a normal bitch, he would've killed you. But you looked so pretty with wet strands of hair on your forehead and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. He fought off a smile at your weak state.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna as shocking as it seems, wants to be better for for you. He wants to stop wanting to see you cry and wishing he could watch you burn sometimes. Because he loves you. Really. Yet for all those months you teased him by not being his, maybe you deserve to cry.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna who gets upset when you get upset. You could be mad at somebody, and he will be mad with you. But if you're mad at him, he will be absolutely enraged with you. So much that he will lock you in his domain and not that you leave. Who told you to talk to him like that? Who told you to tell him who he can kill and who he cannot? Maybe being in a room full of bloody skulls will shut you up.

Angst!Boyfriend!Sukuna—"Woman." He angerily calls out before stomping to the room you kicked you in and made you stay locked up. He opens the door to see you, upset and fuming yet scared and sad. The sight almost hurts him. He'll bend down, scoop your small frame up into his four arms, one hand holding your rear end and the other one stroking your hair, the other two bear hugging you. "Forgive me..." He gives you the best apology he can. Only to go back and do the same thing again.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who is a bitch in bed. If you think he's toxic when he's in public or chilling, wait until he unleashes hell on you with two cocks.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who won't pathetically masturbate for you. He'll call your ass near him, legs spread wide open and his dicks already wet from his own pre as he smears it on the tips. He waits before motioning you to come with a coy smirk. "Ride." Is all he has to say and all he will say.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who most definitely will take advantage of his ability to spawn mouths anywhere and using is four arms to its fullest ability. When fucking your from behind? A hand will slide under, palming your pussy before a tongue lashes onto your clit and desperately sucks orgasms out of you.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna doesn't waste any time as soon as he is inside you. You can already feel mouth forming on his dick and licking your walls. You have never felt anything like this, virgin or not. With every fast and steady pump of dick, tongues run wild and lick along your clenching cunt.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna or the simple act of a pair of hands holding your waist to help you hop on his dick and the other two gripping your tits. He loves when they bounce. Yet, with your back facing to him or not, he pinches your nipples and hold them so when they bounce up and down doesn't hurt so much. Because he has you trained like a good whore to ride him hard and nice or else your ass will be bruised and red.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who loves to use his size and two cocks to intimidate your small cunnie and body. He find how your hole is basically begging to be stuffed yet your dumb little mouth won't stop talking and saying that he's too big funny. When once he fingers the mess out of you, at least half of his cock could fit in.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who sits on his thrown and thinks if he should edge you or overstimulate you today.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna seeing you beg for his cock inside—the same one that you complained was too big—with dewy eyes clouded with lust and needy, rubbing your clit right in front of him, humiliating yourself for some dick. Makes him go feral.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna or the misunderstood bubbles coming from you as you actually try to run away from his dicks, yet when he has you in a mating press with both your gaping holes right there, full of cum and cock, he ain't stopping. He watches with a smile at your tear stained face, glossy and kissed bruised lips quivering with every desperate cry of his name. Why have two holes in the same area when he can't stuff them? It feels so surreal for you—one of his dicks twitching to orgasm as the other isn't even used enough and pumping you like he hates you.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who buys (or steals) all of the hardcore lingerie are bondage toys just to use them till they break or ripping the clothes right off of you. When you sit in his throne, red silk robes and a lace bra just below your nipples, watching you touch yourself through the shear laced panties that were soaked, makes him wanna kiss down your small dainty, delicate legs. And he kneels down you legs, in between before his teeth shread the pretty clothing. You're the only woman he'll ever get on his knees for. For that pussy.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who loves to have sex in public. If anyone happens to see, it's not like he can't just kill them on sight. But he enjoys watching you squirm and desperately trying to push his large body away from your small one. He loves when people start getting suspicious when they hear wet squelching sounds. Not only does he have to cup his hand over your mouth to shut you up, but now he has to deal with a sobbing pussy all over his dick.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna he keeps telling you to keep it down, shoving you into deep and bruising kisses. With the way you moan like you're taking five guys at once, it's like you wanna get caught.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who will never admit it, but you can tell just by the way he acts, he is pussy whipped. He just loves the way his inhumanly large and thick cock glides and disappears inside that tiny hole and reappear, covered in your arousal and slick. Or the first person up close view of your throbbing clit, waiting for his tongue.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna who takes a hit in spanking you. Not even with his hands. With a belt, or maybe with a whip, paddle. He'll give you a good 10 licks before finally giving you a break. Sometimes, he doesn't as a punishment. Making you count and leaving you in tears.

Smut!Boyfriend!Sukuna he leaves you ass red and stinging. He'll be as nice as to run up and down on your ass and add cream, cooing and telling you how good you counted. Or if you miscounted the amount, he'll end up giving you some more, with his hands or fucking you even more brain dumb.

Who wants a fic of this, fluff, angst, or smut?

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steel in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.

@kaizynofsickness

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #headcanon #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #x reader #fluff #fem reader #female reader #smut fic

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transsexula · 2 days

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Hate seeing people say that Transandrophobia isn't real because, in their words, the "androphobia" isn't something people in real life face.

Now. Maybe this is because when I see this opinion, it's attached to someone who is either transfem, AMAB, or who has only ever lived in incredibly liberal areas.

Meaning: They do not have the life experience to speak on that.

It's simple, I can use myself as an easy example: I grew up on the west side of the US. My extended family and parents were very Christian, very conservative. The community I grew up in was in turn the same- very conservative, very Christian, very fundamentalist. Certain Disney movies were banned from the house for featuring witchcraft, or other "morally reprehensible" things. DISNEY MOVIES.

With this background, I'm sure you can tell where this was headed: I can clearly remember being in the pharmacy with my mother. I was small. I saw a lady with what I now know is a pixie cut- incredibly short hair, bright bold pink. Her girlfriend was there, and her own hair was incredibly butch- like they went to a sports clips and asked for what the guy next to them was getting. I was amazed- I'd never seen a woman that looked like that before. I voiced so with awe and wonder to my mother. I was supposed to get a haircut in an hour. "I want that! She looks so pretty and nice"

Who was visibly disgusted. Grabbing me, yanking me away, muttering "no. You don't want to look like that. Let's go."

Fast forward a few years. I'm too young to be drinking a beer, my uncle has stayed up late. We are watching music videos and sharing interests, when we see a rather masc looking woman in a video. He's disgusted. He makes an offhand joke about how she needs to be reminded of her feminine ways. I know what violations he's implying so vividly. He opens up about his fantasy of hatecriming two butch "women" he saw. I'm too afraid to speak.

There's a debate in church. Should women be allowed to wear above the knee shorts? We really didn't like that they can wear pants. Really, the pastor says in his sermon- it's the woman's job to maintain her feminine nature, in opposition to her husband's masculine nature. These blurring lines aren't good for people.

And- I don't want to get into the people I've known who've been hurt, abused, forcefully feminized, beaten for being masculine- the men that feel entitled to their bodies, because they feel entitled to a say in how they present.

The reason you don't see the abuse for being masculine, is because you come from a world where it's widely accepted in ways that not every culture, not every state or country has.

Gnc women, trans men, transmasc nonbinary people- if you're in the wrong place, born to the wrong family, you may never be safe enough to wear pants. You may not be able to cut your hair. Or be anything less than the perfect, ideal woman.

You get punished for not being what you have been assigned. For the act of defiance against others perception, you can be killed.

So, yeah. There's a lot of androphobia. There's a LOT of fear of the masculine. It just comes out in ways you aren't expecting, as someone who hasn't had to experience it. You don't know what to look for. Where to look. It's everywhere but you can be blind to it if you're insulated enough.

Hell- even terfs are falling into severe androphobia. It's their whole motto. What am I, if not a failed woman to them? Mutilating my perfect feminine form? Being a man is the ultimate crime to these people. Are you really telling me JKRs very public campaign hasn't made life hell for ALL of us? We are all losing healthcare due to this.

#transandrophobia #transphobia #AGAIN THIS ISNT TO START SHIT THIS IS TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS A THING #the reason i didnt attach this to a post about it is because of that specific reason #im tired of people acting like we are all just safe in big cities

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dnftopia · 16 hours

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dnf + guilty as sin lyric analysis (delusional version)

I was validated by 1 anon so Now i need to do this. Its very crazy (WARNING!)

My boredom's blown deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry?

this part is soooo pre-meetup dnf. "my boredom's blown deep / this cage was once just fine" reflects so much on both of them -- dream having to watch all his friends meet george from across the world while being stuck in his house for years, and george being bored in london while also barely leaving his flat.

their cage was "once just fine" because we know that before they realized that they wanted to live together and just wanted george to visit, they were fine being across an ocean. But once the visa application started they expressed pretty clearly how much it affected their mental health to be apart from each other -- hence "am i allowed to cry"

I dream of cracking locks Throwing my life to the Wolves or the ocean rocks Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox I'm seeing visions, never mad or bad or wise

"i dream of cracking locks" might as well be a metaphor for the visa aka their lock to the door keeping them apart. and "throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks" is clearly a metaphor for controversy or the general public (the wolves). at the same time dnf are apart they're also becoming increasingly famous, dealing with newfound controversy and criticism.

"crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox" -- use of the word paradox makes me feel like there's some differing use in the meaning of the word "crashing". like the painful feeling of crashing against ocean rocks (controversy) versus crashing against him being comforting (dnf relying on each other for support and love). and "i'm seeing visions" -- wanting to be with each other sooo badly it encroaches on both their waking thoughts and their dreams

What if he's written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind One slip and falling back into the hedge maze Oh what a way to die

this is pretty clearly a "what if my feelings are unrequited" type thing to me. what if i'm his but he doesn't see me as his? one slip (i.e. a slip of the tongue revealing too much of their inner feelings) could ruin everything. Which like. in any friends to lovers relationship i feel that's a very real fear

I keep recalling things we never did Messy top lip kiss

do i have to say anyhting for this one WE KNOW DREAM THOUGHT ABOUT KISSING GEORGE. MULTIPLE TIMES

How I long for our tryst Without ever touching his skin How can I be guilty as sin?

yeahhh more pre-meetup dnf longing for their eventual meeting. without ever meeting each other, and without george ever seeing dream's face, somehow they still want each other

I keep thesе belongings locked In lower casе inside a vault Someone told me, "There's no such thing as bad fights, only your actions talk" These fatal fantasies given way to labored breath taking all of me

they keep their feelings locked up Ohh my dnfies. "there's no such thing as bad fights, only your actions talk" is like an actions matter more than words thing or alternatively could be flipping the saying "keep fighting the good fight" on its head a bit. again "fatal fantasies" of what could be post-meetup consume both of them so fully it's difficult to focus on anything else

We've already done it in my head If it's make believe Why does it feel like a vow? We'll fold apart somehow

THIS ONEEE. "we've already done it in my head ... / why does it feel like a vow?" Like come on. we know dnf have had many conversations about their future together and they're both fully committed to staying together as long as they can. the question for them is whether the other person feels that platonically or romantically

My bed sheets are a blaze I screamed his name Building up like waves crashing over my grave Without ever touching his skin How can I be guilty as sin?

Yeahh. dont need to go into detail on this one because we all get it. #DNFESEX!

What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyway

aside from the Dresus comparisons. "rolling the stone away" in the context of christianity symbolizes rebirth and an intrinsic change. To me it could be seen as a metaphor for coming out publicly . "they're gonna crucify me anyway" -- we literally saw this happen with dream in real time. he doesn't come out and he's accused of queerbaiting, he comes out and people invalidate him and call him names LIKE. This hurts me

What if the way you hold is actually what's holy? If long suffering propriety is what they want from me They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly I choose you and me, religiously

even if they face vitriol and public scrutiny DNF WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE EACH OTHER TO THE POINT OF RELIGION!

Thats it the end. Thanks for reading peace and love Please support me and my crazyisms

#THIS WAS FUN #i'd like to do more of these honestly #dnf

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darshy · 1 day

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pretty, pt. 2

some of the formatting on this is screwed, i know, it’s just a struggle adjusting things on a phone ):

n e way, enjoy!!

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t hate Satoru Gojo—at first. It was more of a simmering annoyance, something bubbling under his skin, threatening to slip out and crash. Nothing too dramatic. Tsumiki liked the man enough so it caused Megumi to tolerate him.

“After all, he saved us. Imagine where we’d be now without him!”

Before his sister said that, Megumi uttered his first curse word in relation to Gojo.

And, after living with the man for about two months, an anomaly occurred. Typically, Gojo would be absent for about a week. He’d say, “I’m just checking on something!” or “I’ve got a long mission—I’ll be back before you know it!”

Now, he’s been gone for a month.

Not that it really matters; the two siblings have a roof over their head and a surplus of food. It’s not their business to be in Gojo’s business.

It’s not Megumi’s business to be in Gojo’s business.

There’s a creak in the house at two AM. The only creak in this house is located in the kitchen, right in front of the refrigerator. Megumi only knows this because he was tasked—by Gojo—to find every creak in a building as a survival tactic. Just in case he was kidnapped.

Or, if he wanted to sneak some food in the middle of the night. Doesn’t really matter the situation.

Megumi blinks and attempts to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The sound was minor, could easily pass as a tree scratching a window, but Megumi’s gut is twisting. It couldn’t be Tsumiki, she never gets up at night, and it couldn’t be Gojo because he always arrives back in the mornings.

So who is it?

He waddles to his bedroom door, toes twitching against the cold, wood floors. He presses on the lock, satisfied to hear a gentle click. Then, he pushes the door open. It reveals a dark hallway with several other doors in its walls. Tsumiki is just a few doors down to the left and Gojo’s room is the last room on the right. Megumi’s stomach churns as he looks to Gojo’s door.

‘Ugh, it’s so ominous…’

He pushes through anyway. The floor is smooth against his feet as he slowly makes his way down the house. Just as he reaches the middle of the staircase leading downstairs, he hears a murmur. Alarm rings through his mind and his hands shake.

What should he do? Is this an intruder? Should he leave and take Tsumiki with him? Call Gojo? Fight? His technique isn’t very refined—Gojo has been so busy lately that he wasn’t any help—and he’s never actually fought before. He could call for 911 too…

What should he do?

The murmuring gets louder, more audible. Megumi strains to hear from his spot, frozen, too scared to go up but still too scared to go down.

”M’gon’ kill that—- —watch him choke— -“

Megumi leans closer by holding onto the handrail of the staircase while praying that it doesn’t create a creak of its own.

”..she’s…mine. Mine.

“—Megumi, ah, why are you awake?”

Megumi holds his breath as he stumbles down the stairs. He, surprisingly, doesn’t feel the harsh impact of the ground against his bones. Instead, there’s a feeling of warmth and the smell of a girl. Megumi pulls away immediately. He’s quick to mask his face of fear, and instead, replaces it with a glare and a sneer. “Gojo? Why are you here?”

”Am I not allowed in my own house?” His smile is slow going, just a bit wobbly, and rather empty-looking.

Megumi jerks back even further. “Are you drunk?”

“A question answered by three other questions,” Gojo says with the bark of a laugh. His breath smells weird. Obviously there’s the stench of alcohol but there’s something else there. Lingering.

Stinking.

”You smell,” Megumi mutters. Gojo blinks down at him. “You’re stinking up the air,” he says a bit louder while conscious of Tsumiki’s gentle snoring. Gojo grins again.

”And you’re drunk. Why are you drunk? I’ve never seen you drink.”

”Awh! Am I worrying you, Megumi-chan? But don’t worry—I’m an adult, so I can do adult things like this.” Megumi cringes at the honorific and cringes even more so at Gojo’s use of ‘adult.’

”There’s no kind of adult in you.”

”..okay! Time for bed!”

Gojo swipes up Megumi and quickly warps the two into the boy’s bedroom. Megumi’s stomach churns and he wants to puke.

But underneath all the smells of alcohol, there’s a twinge of floral essence. It smells like the shampoo and perfume that Tsumiki uses. It smells like a girl.

Megumi opens his mouth to ask another question but then Gojo is gone.

“Why were you awake last night?” Gojo asks as Megumi pours cereal into a bowl. Tsumiki blinks between the two of them, her mouth full.

”I was thirsty,” Megumi says lowly and glances up to his adopted father. Gojo has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a bit messy.

“I’m glad I didn’t wake you.” His breath permeates the air; now the aroma of mint and toothpaste. His eyes twinkle and Megumi knows that he saw through the lie.

Change is a constant in life. It’s so much of a constant that Megumi is accustomed to it. A new school, a new bed, a new life…

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate change, because he hates change.

He hates coming home to tiny little curses wriggling about. He hates the new craze in Gojo’s eyes. He hates how the hallways are dark at night. He hates the muffled noise coming from Gojo’s room.

He doesn’t necessarily mind the new smell that tangles with Gojo’s cologne.

He still hates change.

Megumi wakes up at five in the morning. His stomach is killing him. It’s twisting and knotting and spinning.

He moves to the hallway bathroom and is surprised to see the light on, shining beneath the door. Gojo is gone again and Tsumiki never wakes up at night.

”Tsumiki,” he calls gently, holding his stomach. She doesn’t reply.

”Tsumiki, please let me in.”

Silence.

”…Tsumiki?”

There’s a shift of a shadow, a disturbance to the light. Megumi recoils quickly and nearly smacks his head against the picture frame behind him. His stomach rolls.

He decides to use the bathroom downstairs, unnerved.

Tsumiki closes the front door behind them. The heat is nearly unbearable so the siblings scramble to remove their socks and shoes. Soon, they lay against the cool tile floors of the kitchen. Tsumiki is looking at Megumi and Megumi is looking at the ceiling.

”It’s hot,” she groans. Megumi nods in agreement. Both of their faces are flushed feverishly. Megumi wants to take a nap against the tiles so he slowly closes his eyes.

”Hey, wanna get some popsicles?”

Megumi opens his eyes. “Yeah.”

The two stand up. Just as Megumi reaches for his sandals, Tsumiki stops him, “I’ll go—I have the money.” For proof, she takes her pocket in hand and shakes it. Change jingles loudly.

”Huh?”

”I’m gonna go. By myself. Just tell me what you want.”

Megumi’s eyebrow twitches. “But I wanna go too.”

”Just tell me what you want.”

”…fine.” Megumi proceeds to babble about a specific ice cream before Tsumiki takes off. The last words to leave her lips are: “Don’t forget to lock the door!” He dutifully follows—turning three locks until they click—but is then faced by another obstacle: boredom. He doesn’t have homework assigned and he doesn’t really have any chores that needed to be done.

Megumi lays against the tiles again. He sweats, heating the cold surface up, so he slides to another section of the floor. He repeats this three times until there’s dirt and mini pebbles sticking to his cheeks. Tsumiki is not back yet.

The boy makes his way up the stairs and into his room. He can probably find something remotely interesting inside but—oh.

Megumi pauses. His hand that was raised to open the door falls to his side.

Gojo’s room is making noises. It’s scratching and crying, almost like a sound for help. Megumi eyes the door with a tilted head. He takes a step forward and then he hears it.

Pleading.

Megumi’s guts twist and his fingers flex. He’s struggling to breathe and he’s reminded of Tsumiki’s words of “In through your nose and out through your mouth.” It’s not enough.

He staggers backwards. The noises get that much louder with a few more scratches and a few more sobs. Megumi is torn between investigating and leaving.

He chooses to depart. He moves back to the top of the stairs, grasping the handrails so tight they’ll leave marks in his palms.

—but what if this is urgent?

Megumi blinks and squeezes the handrail again and doesn’t take any further steps.

What if they need help?

He turns back to the door. His mind is full of slush and he’s hot and sticky and he just wants Tsumiki to come back with a bag full of popsicles and ice creams.

What if Gojo is hiding something?

He places his hand on the doorknob. He’s shaking. The scratches have subsided but Megumi can clearly hear a sniffle every few seconds.

The knob doesn’t turn. The door is locked.

What is Gojo hiding?

Megumi squats. He presses his face against the floor and peers into the thin crack under Gojo’s door. A single eye and bloodied finger tips stare back at him.

He screams and screams and screams and runs to the bathroom to puke.

Who is Gojo hiding?

”Megumi! I’m back!” Tsumiki calls from the front door. “And guess who I found!” She doesn’t explicitly say who and, unfortunately, the response she receives is silence.

Then, there’s loud crying.

”Ah—Megumi!” Tsumiki hurries up the stairs with Gojo right behind her. The two find Megumi hunched over the toilet, heaving and hacking. Gojo approaches with open arms, a frown on his face.

“Megumi? What happened?”

Gojo barely grazes Megumi’s shoulder before he’s shoved away. Megumi’s glaring and sobbing. Tsumiki parts her mouth in shock—Gojo tenses up right beside her.

As Tsumiki leans in to coddle her brother, Gojo stands, watching, eyes wide and fists clenching.

What did he see?

Megumi gasps for air as he’s slammed into the fighting mattress. Gojo stands above him, a simple smile on his face. It doesn’t look real.

”I told you to bend your knees more,” Gojo says with a patronizing tone, “If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have fallen.”

That’s a lie. Gojo would have pushed him down anyway, it doesn’t matter how much force he would of had to use.

“I just… I want to learn my technique more,” Megumi says lowly. He claws at a rip in the mattress. Slowly, fluff crawls out of it. Gojo wipes it away with his foot. Megumi huffs.

”To master a technique, you need to learn basic fighting. How else did you think I became this great?” Gojo laughs obnoxiously and Megumi doesn’t feel a tug of his lips or a happy beat of his heart or anything. It’s all been stowed away since he discovered the person trapped in Gojo’s room. If that’s even a person.

Obviously, Megumi has attempted to open Gojo’s room for a while yet. The time windows have been small, unfortunately. Gojo has stayed home for a while now—the scheduling of his missions have gotten more and more bleak. As if the higher ups don’t need him. As if there are less and less curses.

That will never be true.

And besides, Megumi shouldn’t be so worried about it anyway. He could just be seeing things, or it’s some kind a curse that Gojo just wants to specifically torture. (And, even at that, Megumi’s not sure if the thing is being tortured. He’s not even sure as to what happens in that room.)

”—despite the challenges, which you’ll go through by the way, you’ll always come out on top because you have me, Megumi! Oh, and… Hey! Are you listening?”

”No,” Megumi replies before he spots a fist coming right for his forehead.

Megumi watches the two dogs zip around each other. They nip and preen and jump and yap. Their furs brush and mix and it’s pretty to look at.

Tsumiki watches too. She sits next to Megumi, playing in the grass with her toes. Leaves are falling and snow will be arriving soon, but Tsumiki is comfortable going around barefoot and wearing shorts and a tank top.

“Is it a lot of work?” she asks, “To make them play, I mean.”

Megumi shrugs. The dogs freeze for a second, a moment of stillness, but then they’re back to enjoying life.

“Well—at least it’s nice to see.”

Megumi agrees. He doesn’t say that aloud.

Gojo has a girlfriend. She smells a little like Tsumiki.

She’s sitting next to him at the table, hands in her lap, head swirled in his direction. Tsumiki admires her a lot. Megumi shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Gojo spoon feeds her. Under the blindfold, Megumi can imagine the heart eyes.

Later, the couple settle onto the couch, deciding to watch a movie. Tsumiki and Megumi are instructed to go to bed.

”Megumi…!” Tsumiki hisses when Megumi stops at the top of the stairs. “Gojo told us to go to sleep. I don’t want to be in trouble because you’re caught watching TV!”

”She’s wearing gloves, Tsumiki.”

”Huh?”

”She’s wearing gloves inside.”

”Well it’s fall and maybe she runs cold,” Tsumiki says, leaning against a nearby wall. “Or, maybe, she doesn’t have her nails done.” Tsumiki sighs dreamily. “She really is perfect.”

Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Ew.” He turns back to look down the staircase.

Gojo’s standing there, hands on his hips. His lips are puckered in a pouting way. “I said go to bed!!”

Tsumiki laughs.

Megumi’s up in the dead of night.

He makes his way to Gojo’s room with expectations of the sounds of creaking and moaning and crying.

There’s nothing—even as he crouches to peer under the crack of the door, whispering back, promising to help this time.

There’s nothing but faint scratch marks on the floor.

The girlfriend—you—has been around more often. Sometimes it’s babysitting while Gojo is gone (which, by the way, the siblings have never had a babysitter before, as per Gojo’s terrible parenting skills), but most of the time it’s while Gojo is around. The two of you stay in the bedroom for a majority of the visit, so Tsumiki clings to Megumi until you come out.

Currently, this is a babysitting scenario. Gojo’s been gone for two weeks and you’ve been doing your due diligence for the kids. Cooking, cleaning, and playing house seem to be your specialty.

”You’d be a great mom,” Tsumiki says. Megumi physically flinches and you pause your mindless surfing on the TV. You’re still wearing gloves.

“Oh, you think?” you ask rather awkwardly. Tsumiki nods.

”I’m just waiting for the day Gojo proposes.”

Megumi pops his mouth open, to tell Tsumiki to knock it off or something but then she stands up and announces that she will grab some snacks.

Megumi’s eyes immediately find yours after that. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know why she said that.” He feels miffed.

”It’s okay,” you smile gently. It appears that you want to say more but then stop. You curl into the side of the couch, on the complete opposite side of Megumi. You look almost sad, like something is missing in your eyes.

”You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Megumi says and you blink up at him. “I know that Gojo can be a bit pushy—“ he’s under exaggerating— “but he can’t boss you around or anything. You guys haven’t known each other for that long, right?”

Your lips part and just like before, you stop. It’s frustrating watching you pause and struggle by simply not saying what you want to say. Then it’s awkward when your eyes dart up to the clock, waiting for your cue to shout I should head home now!

And just as Megumi gives up, slinking into his side of the couch, face pressed against the armrest, you talk.

”Satoru told me what you guys have been through—so don’t think I’m upset about Tsumiki. I honestly thought it was kinda funny.” You grin a little and Megumi pouts back.

”She still shouldn’t have said that.”

”It’s whatever.” You shrug but still grin and there’s a sparkle in your eyes that is similar to Tsumiki’s. Oh. That’s what was missing in you. That’s probably what made Gojo fall for you.

You’re really nice looking.

Megumi’s face warms. He distracts himself by looking at your gloved hands. Like clockwork, you hide them in your lap, with an uncomfortable look on your face.

”I’ve, um, known Satoru my whole life,” you blurt. Megumi realizes that you don’t want him to question the gloves. “He would visit the US during his holidays and he would find me.”

Megumi leans in and curiously questions, “Find you?”

”Because he wanted me—us—to live here, in Japan, together,” you say and the sparkle leaves your eyes. You’re not so pretty anymore. “And guess what happened.”

You and Gojo must have broken up. The teacher has been disturbed lately. He screams and breaks everything in his sight and he almost appears to lose control. (Of course, this is while the kids are—supposedly—sleeping. He wouldn’t dare show unruly behavior to growing and easily-influenced children!)

Thankfully, he doesn’t lose control, less Megumi be six feet underground.

And Megumi isn’t sad. Your absence doesn’t make his heart heavy. Doesn’t make him want to cry and throw things too because that’s how Gojo does it and Megumi isn’t him. Megumi is simply Megumi. He doesn’t want you back like Gojo does. He’d just appreciate it if you visited once in a while. It would help the broken plates. It would help with the increased amount of curses.

“Sensei.”

”Sensei.”

”No Megumi! Sensei.” Gojo corrects.

”That’s what I’m saying!” Megumi groans. “It’s not like I’ve never said this before. I literally go to school, Gojo.”

”You mean sensei,” Gojo says with a sly smile. Megumi groans again.

He’s growing up. It feels slow, like each day is dragging by. It doesn’t help that Tsumiki has fallen ill, even to the point of bedriddenness. But it’s okay. Because Megumi is growing and he’s going to fix her.

He’s going to fix everything.

“Geto Suguru.” Megumi looks up to his soon-to-be teacher. “You knew him?”

Gojo shifts uncomfortably. “He was my best friend! And now I have to kill him.”

”Oh,” Megumi utters because there’s nothing else to say. He looks back down to the sheet. He squints at a near familiar name. Shoko Ieiri. Megumi taps the small picture of her. Gojo grins.

”Another friend. I don’t have to kill her.”

”Oh,” he utters again, because there’s still nothing to say.

Just before school starts, just before Gojo officially becomes Megumi’s teacher, you’re back. Standing in a pretty outfit, beaming at the two from inside Gojo’s home. Megumi stiffens and attempts to meet Gojo’s eyes. His attempts are ignored in favor of you, however.

The two make it inside. They’re sweating, at least Megumi is, from the relentless practice. And he wants to ask what you’re doing here. Why you’ve shown up out of the blue in a pretty outfit, smelling a bit like Tsumiki and not wearing gloves at all.

He’s going to ask but then you place food in front of the two and Megumi can’t say no to this.

So he eats.

There’s comfortable conversation for you and Gojo. It’s weird not having Tsumiki sitting next to him, whispering, prying. She would be waiting for you to finish. She’d wait and wait and wait.

Megumi keeps eating. His mind feels like it’s running a little slow.

”Of course I would, Satoru… Why do you think I’m here?” You say while smiling. It looks weird.

”For me.” Gojo’s smiling too. His is easier to decode than yours. It’s a simple cypher: right corner of his mouth is a bit down and his front teeth are gnawing into the flesh. He’s not upset but maybe a bit annoyed at… something. Megumi’s not so sure. The teacher always carries a look like that when Megumi misplaces his foot. Or when the teen is up at night, creeping into the halls.

Just as Megumi’s head droops, his forehead hovering right above the countertop, he hears you gasp. Blearily, he looks to his two elders. Gojo’s hand is clutched around a wrist you’re attempting to tug back. The teacher’s face is bright red with his glasses slipping down his nose sloppily. “Satoru…!” you whine and pull back.

It’s terrifying how quickly Gojo leaps across the counter to get to you.

Megumi closes his eyes.

Itadori is a mess. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even be alive.

He shouldn’t be in Megumi’s dorm room, but he is, and he’s poking and prodding around. He says things like: “Woah Fushiguro!! What is this?!” and it’s a book about psychology. When Itadori began to open Megumi’s drawers, a pillow was thrown to his head.

“Ahhh Fushiguro, your room is so clean… Where’s all the posters?” Itadori asks. He’s peering over Megumi’s shoulder. Math homework peer right back at him.

”What posters?” Megumi attempts to shrug the other away. Itadori stays and gestures around the room. “You know, like, really hot girls in bikinis! And big butts! Like Jennifer Lawrence.”

Megumi’s face turns red. “Hell no!” And he finally swats Itadori away.

Megumi resumes his work for a few minutes longer before looking over to Itadori. He’s, again, snooping around. Megumi’s eyebrow ticks. “Put that down.” Itadori’s holding a picture frame before flipping it to green eyes. ”Who is this? Your mom or something?”

Soon-to-be. Right. Gojo and you are engaged. Have been for about a month. The wedding will happen in about three weeks from now.

Feigning boredom, Megumi looks back to his papers. “Gojo-sensei hasn’t told you about her yet? I figured he would blab about her every second he could,” he mutters. Itadori appears a bit skittish after hearing that.

”I mean, he talks about his fiancée…”

”Yeah.”

”Oh… OH!” Itadori jumps up and Megumi can practically see the cogwheels turning in his head. “So she will be your mom! Wow, okay!” Itadori turns back to the picture frame. Suddenly, a mouth manifests out of Itadori’s cheek and laughs.

”I’m sure she’ll make a great meal!”

Megumi barely suppresses the punch heading for Itadori’s face.

A runaway bride is what you are. Fleeing the night before the wedding.

Gojo has held a stifling quiet for the past 32 hours. His eyes are dull. Megumi wants to reach out and offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he says simply, “It’s probably just some misunderstanding.”

Gojo doesn’t look up. Doesn’t react, doesn’t move, and Megumi would think that he were dead if not for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

”I’m tired of her running away,” Gojo says after a pregnant pause. “I know what she wants and she knows what I want. It’s not like I’m going to kill her.”

Megumi’s stomach rolls and it reminds him of being a kid, sneaking around and trying to get into Gojo’s room because he thinks someone’s trapped in there. It’s silly, looking back on it, but his stomach is rolling all the same again.

He makes his way back to the school. He dreams of his warm bed and warm shower and warm clothes. He’s tired of the fighting. He’s tired of Tsumiki not waking up and nagging him. He’s tired of the looks of his friends, each exhausted and on the brink of death after each mission. He’s tired of it all.

As Megumi passes a local store, he smells something like Tsumiki. Floral-ish, like flowers, like how most girls smell. It smells nice and comforting and like you.

He turns to the store. His heart seems to stop in his chest and his mouth dries.

You notice him back. Your eyes lock with wide green ones.

Megumi is right in front of you in half a second. His arms are stretched wide, a hugging gesture, but you don’t take it. You shuffle, holding a wrinkled bag in your hands. Megumi drops his arms.

”Hi,” he whispers. He doesn’t know if you’re real or if it’s just the hysteria creeping into him. He wants to touch and feel, maybe poke and prod while he’s at it. You look like you, but are you really? You smell like you, but is this fake lying?

”Hi Megumi,” you whisper back and Megumi hugs you. You’re stiff (and you shouldn’t be) but you manage to wrap your arms around his middle. Your hair tickles his mouth and he just hugs you closer.

”I missed you so much,” he says into the top of your head. He pauses for a moment to inhale. You tense up like you’re waiting for bad news—and for good reason. Gojo-sensei has been in his quiet, anger mood for far too long. Megumi can’t wait for it to end.

“We want you back home.” He inhales your scent again. Sweet. Comforting. Home.

”I know,” you say into his jacket. (Despair.)

#x reader #female reader #24 #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru

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chaeinedup · 2 days

Text

1 + 1 = S2

Loud music could be heard from both rooms in the house. Your neighbours have probably grown accostumed to such thing, it meant it was going out night. Part of them was relieved it wasn't another noisy game night, which are pretty frequent as well.

You were seated on the floor, redoing your ponytails for the 3rd time. Your arms were on fire but you were committed to this look.

"Siri, call yuyu please."

"Calling yuyu."

.....

"Hello ? Y/n ?"

"Hiii just wanted to ask where you are."

"We're almost ready to leave the house. You guys ?"

"I'm almost done if my hair cooperates with me. Wooyoung is most likely waiting for me. I'm surprised he hasn't barged in my room yet."

"Try not to be late!"

"AS IF!!"

"Don't give me attitude missy. Now I'm gonna get the car started, I'll see you in a bit. Bye"

"Bye Bye, don't miss me!"

.....

After 10 more minutes you were finally done. One last look in the mirror and all that work paid off. The boots made your legs look longer and your mini skirt complemented the cropped shirt well. You grabbed your purse and headed to the leaving room where a very impacient Wooyoung awaited you.

"What took you so long ?"

"It takes time to look this good you know?"

"Pleeeease!!"

"Don't roll your eyes at me wooyoung I'll hit you."

"And I'd like it so who's really winning?"

He gave you his signature smirk and winked at you from the couch.

"EW. Let's go. The others already left."

The club was pretty crowded, expected for a friday night, but you weren't scared to get lost. You like to get loose. And it's not like you don't have 8 guys that are constantly keeping an eye on you.

"Don't run off on us again for the love of god."

"Seonghwa for your own sake if I stay none of yall are pulling anyone. Same applies to me."

"Why do you want to get with anyone ?"

"Wouldn't you like to know! I'm off, if you need me yell."

You made your way t the dance floor before he opened his mouth.

"BUT YOU WON'T HEAR IT!!"

"YEAH THAT'S THE POINT!!"

Since it was a 2000s night you were more than happy to have traded your comfortable apartment for the hell. It has it's perks.

You had no idea but someone was drilling holes in your head, Wooyoung was exceptionally bothered by how you left them behind.

"How can she just leave ?"

"Cause she can ?? What are you on about, chill she's not your girl."

Mingi's words were harsher than what met the eye. Sure you weren't dating but he can't lie that the though of some other guy touching you infuriated him. He kept denying his feelings and that maybe this was just him wanting to protect his friend. But Yunho smiled to himself when he saw Wooyoungs furrowed eyebrows.

"You should just tell her how you feel you know?"

"What feelings? It's just unfair we're her friends and she doesn't care."

"And you care too much for "just a friend" don't you think? Listen she can take care of herself she's always been this way, you get used t it."

Yunho tried to relax him but it just made Wooyoung get int his head. Maybe he should've stayed home. No, he couldn't possibly let you out of the house by yourself looking like that.

Meanwhile you were having the time of your life, you had met a group of girls that were on their bacherolette party. It's like you knew them all your life, screaming all the songs, taking pictures, clinking drinks. Girlhood.

You decided to go get another drink and since no one else wanted anything you went alone. Normally this would mean getting approached by a couple of random guys trying to smooth talk you and al of them failling to do so. But unlike other times, the voice behind you was familiar.

"So. Are you having fun ?"

"Oh my god Yunho, I am those girls are so fun. Did you know that the bride and groom met through mutual friends and they actually lived together for a while before he realised he had feelings for her?? How CUTE is that??"

He couldn't help but smile due to the resemblances.

"Yeah it's really sweet. I guess you really never know when love is ready to knock at your door. But what about you, have you gone maneater on anyone?"

"I kinda don't care honestly, I'm having a good time and that's all I care about."

"That's my girl. Now be sure to behave. If you need us, we're at the booth.

He kissed your cheek before disappearing into the sea of people.

You looked at the time, 5:23am. Time to call it a night. You sayed goodbye to the group of girls that accompanied you through the night and wished them all the best. Making your way up to the booths you realised you were a lot more under the influence than you thought. You didn't really care, it's almost the end of the night and the guys are more then used to this side of yours.

Once they saw you they cheered and clapped, you bowed like a princess and smiled at their unnecessary but appreaciated "welcome back".

"How many fishes did you catch sailor?" Mingi gave you another shot he had brought upstairs.

"A THOUSAND" You yelled and chugged the green liquid. "I'm kidding 0, there's no cute guys here."

You sat down next a very pouty Wooyoung.

"What's up with you? What happened to my loud and energetic comrade?"

He gave you no answer, just his cold gaze.

"Damn are you really that upset that I didn't stick around? I thought you were used to it by now."

He got up and made his way to the balcony. There's no way he's throwing a tantrum for something so stupid, you thought to yourself. You followed his angry steps.

"Be so fucking serious Wooyoung? What the fuck?"

He turned to you and you could see there wasn't a hint of alchool in his system. This wasn't one of his drunk stunts that he pulled when he wanted a tad bit more of attention. He was actually upset.

"Okay, I'm sorry I'm being so agressive, just talk to me woo, please."

"I don't like you running off on us that's all."

"That's not all Wooyoung, we've never been mad at eachother and it's not gonna start now."

You got closer to him holding his hands and caressing them. You were giving him your most sincere eyes and he couldn't believe that he was about to kiss you.

It caught you by surprise, so much so you froze in the first few seconds, not knowing if this was a dream or reality. You decide to give in nonetheless. His hands soft, like you remembered from all the times he touched your skin in times of need. Heartbreaks, cramps, tickles, you name it. He was always there for you.

Yunho sipped his drink with a victorious grin, as he watched from the inside. He looked at the rest of the guys and let out a "I told you so."

previous// //next

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scrunckled-idiot · 2 days

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ATTENTION TO TF2 FANFIC ENJOYERS

ok so i was supposed to post this ages ago but i forgor like the retard i am but lets cut to the chase

this person, this girl right here, has written one of the best and most well structured tf2 fanfiction- i cant even call it a fanfiction- its MORE than that, it felt like i was reading a movie script, not even exaggerating. its so professional and like- like just so fuckin'- AAGH- lemme show you the description for both (yes BOTH) of her tf2 stories

MATTERS OF TIME AND FATE "Olivia Mann's life gets thrown upside down when she's suddenly orphaned. With no one else to care for her, she must share a house with the mercenaries her father was enemies with, but it's here that she's able to really experience what it's like to have a family."

so the first book is basically centred around that little girl in the tf2 main comics (grey mans daughter) and ends up living with the red team, miss Pauling and the admin. found family!!! yeey! it hits pretty hard to me because i kind relate to olivia in the story but enough about me. this is just packed with so much emotion and moments that either made me start crying or couldn't stop smiling till my cheeks hurt. we get some returning characters and some great original characters to! like seriously well done . honest 100/10, please read it, it is a complete book.

2. CHRONICALS OF LOVE AND WAR "Months after the events of the first story, the mercenaries are summoned back to Teufort for a new mission. Teufort has changed significantly since they left, though, and things take a turn for the bizarre when Olivia makes a strange new friend."

ok so this takes a BIG turn story wise, and goes into a more... "magical" turn not repetitive which is great with even MORE returning characters! i REALLY wanna say but they're all biiiiig spoilers so go find out for yerself! again, super well written, creative, and really enjoyable to read! its still ongoing so please be patient when she posts.

please please PLEASE check her out and read her stuff honest to god its so fucking good she's really talented.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #fanfic #tf2 demoman #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 spy #team fortress #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 administrator #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 saxton hale #wattpad

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thisapplepielife · 3 days

Text

Written for @subeddieweek, day three.

Menace to Society

Prompt: Brat/Wet/Choking | Word Count: 2556 | Rating: E | CW: Gagging | Tags: Established Relationship, Teasing, Taunting, Bratty Sub Eddie, A Bit of Orgasm Denial, Choking (on Cock), Light Biting, Light Spanking, Rimming, Unprotected Sex

He's a nuisance. A little shithead. A menace to society and Steve's life, as a whole.

And Steve wouldn't have it any other way.

Eddie is dripping water all over the hardwood floors of the bedroom as he stands in front of the closet, totally naked. His wet hair is dripping down his back, and he has to be freezing cold. The fan is whirring overhead, the window AC blowing full blast. But Steve just watches, waiting to see how long the little brat can hold out.

He's pretty sure Eddie didn't even attempt to ghost a towel over himself, let alone dry off.

Flicking through the shirts, Eddie's acting like he's never seen any of them before. Like, this is a brand new wardrobe and not his same old, ratty ass clothes that he refuses to replace, like, ever.

Steve waits. And Eddie stalls.

He finally selects a plain black shirt, and pulls it over his head and slides on a pair of red plaid boxers. They're both clinging to his wet skin, and it can't be comfortable. But Steve says nothing, not even when Eddie slides into bed, his cold, wet hair soaking into the pillow, not even when he slides right up against Steve, pushing his face into Steve's neck.

This cold, wet, rat of a man.

And he's all Steve's.

"You're a little brat," Steve says, and he can feel Eddie's smile against his skin, pressed against his pulse point. He's sure it's hammering away, giving away that he's not exactly as unaffected as he hopes he seems.

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Eddie asks, licking a wet stripe towards Steve's ear.

"If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask."

"Where's the fun in that?" Eddie questions, and Steve laughs. He's not sure how he's the boss here, he doesn't feel like he's the boss of anything that happens in their house.

Long, long ago he was yanked off his feet by the living, breathing tornado that shares his bed. And he knew he could either ride out the storm, or take cover.

And he'll ride out the storm, always.

Eddie leans in and bites him hard on the neck, and it's his cue to act. He knows it, so he manhandles Eddie off him, and over onto his knees, until he's draped over his lap and draws back his hand and smacks Eddie on the ass. Once, twice, three times, a little harder with each blow.

Eddie just laughs.

"Tickles," Eddie mumbles into the pillow.

So, Steve strikes him again. Harder.

Then yanks on the damp boxers, wrestling them off Eddie, and pushing his t-shirt up his back.

And Steve finds that Eddie has clearly worked himself open in the shower, despite knowing how much Steve likes to do it himself.

"You disobeyed me," Steve says, spanking him again, then pressing his thumb against Eddie's stretched hole.

"Well, if you'd be a little more competent at the job," Eddie says, and Steve grips his hip.

"Hey," Steve says, firm, unyielding. It's effective, and the tone is all Eddie needs to change directions and back off. To mind. Steve's made it clear he doesn't like to be degraded or shamed, doesn't like to feel like he's bad at things, like he's bullshit, and Eddie knows better, even if he's being a fucking brat right now.

"Too far, sorry," Eddie says, and he reaches back to pet Steve's hand.

"That's what I thought," Steve says, dumping Eddie onto the bed, moving to stand in front of Eddie. He tugs down his own underwear, just over his ass and palms his dick.

Then he crooks his finger at Eddie, beckoning him closer.

"On your knees. Hands behind your back."

Eddie whines, "But I'm ready…"

"And you'll still be ready when I am," Steve says firmly, pointing at the floor, "on your knees."

Eddie slides off the bed, and does as he's been told, but has a bitchy look on his face the entire time. It's a big job, but Steve will try to fix that attitude, so he grabs Eddie's cheeks between his fingers, pinching, forcing him to open up his mouth. Demanding that he lowers his jaw.

He does, and Steve pats him on the cheek, softly, "That's my good boy. So docile, so giving, such a soft boy."

Steve's paying him back, even if Steve knows him well enough to know this won't rile him. Eddie wants to submit, even if he isn't exactly docile. Isn't soft. And doesn't want to be.

When he lets go, Eddie is still sitting there, his mouth open. Waiting. Waiting. Eyes hooded.

Steve palms his own dick, stroking the length of himself, right at Eddie's eye level. Making him watch.

Eddie sticks out his tongue, and Steve grins at him, can't help it, but still tells him, "You're a goddamn brat."

And Eddie clamps his mouth shut, defiant.

Loving Eddie, is living with constant consented to chaos.

Steve does nothing, just keeps stroking his own cock, lazily. Nothing works better on Eddie's bratty bad attitude than simply ignoring him. Lack of attention, that's what gets him to shape up.

So, Steve fists his own dick, and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. Long, smooth strokes, showing that he can please himself. That he doesn't need Eddie. That he can do this without any of his input.

Steve knows the silence won't last, can't. Eddie'll get jealous of Steve's own hand. He'll get too impatient. Steve's not wrong.

"Well, are you gonna do anything about it?" Eddie snaps.

Steve grins, wicked, opening his eyes as he leans down to get closer to Eddie's face.

"Of course I am. I was just waiting to see how big of a hole you were planning on digging for yourself, first."

Eddie's jaw drops back down, mouth open and pliant. Willing and waiting. Not wanting to be left out.

And that's more like it.

Steve rewards him for it by sliding the head of his cock against Eddie's bottom lip, then the tip of his tongue, before sliding in, in, in. Bumping the back of Eddie's throat.

Eddie gags, he always does, and Steve's instinct is still to pull out. Even after all this time. Even after Eddie has told him not to, again and again. And Eddie must know that, must feel it happening, Steve withdrawing, so Eddie disobeys the order he was given and takes one hand out from behind his back, grabbing a handful of Steve's ass, pulling him in even further into his mouth.

His cock sliding into Eddie's throat deeper than before, gagging him even worse.

Steve buries his hand in Eddie's hair, close to the scalp, and pulls him backwards. Off his dick completely. And Eddie makes a choked noise at the loss, but lets go of Steve's ass, and puts his hand back behind his back where it belongs. But he looks up at Steve with wet, betrayed eyes.

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's forehead, and Eddie nods. Just ever so slightly.

He's okay, just pouting.

"Do I need to hog-tie you and set you in cement? Or can you behave for once in your goddamn life?" Steve asks, and Eddie offers up his wrists, more belligerence than an actual offering, and Steve ignores him. "Behind. Your. Back," Steve repeats slowly, and Eddie puts them back where they belong.

Eddie nods, lowering his eyes, finally submitting.

So, Steve presses back in. Pressing, pushing until Eddie's eyes are watering more. Big and shining with unshed tears, but locked in on Steve's. Unwavering.

Begging him, silently.

Pupils blown wide, as he's getting lost in the scene, and it's a look Steve adores to get out of him.

So, Steve gives him what he wants, and bottoms out, choking him. He holds his cock in Eddie's throat for a few breaths.

Then pulls out. Eddie gasps for air, just for a second, then opens his mouth for more.

Steve gives him more. Over and over, until he's ready to torment Eddie further. Or, well, until Eddie's ready to be tormented further, seems more accurate. Steve's in charge, but this is always, will always, be about Eddie and his wants. His needs.

How they get there will be in Steve's hands, but the end game has always been clear to Steve. Make Eddie happy, even if he has to torture that happiness out of him, inch by inch, squeeze by squeeze.

"I'm gonna come," Steve tells him, "right down your throat."

Eddie whines, and attempts to shake his head no.

"Are you telling me no? Are you the boss of me?"

Eddie whines again, shaking his head.

"All that work, and for what? Nothing," Steve says. "What'd you use? Your fingers? A toy? Hidden away, stretching yourself open, unable to wait for me to take care of you."

Eddie can't answer, not with Steve's cock in his throat.

"Yeah, like that," Steve says, and then grips the back of Eddie's head.

Eddie whines.

"Here it comes," Steve tells him, and presses as far in as he can. Eddie's nose is buried in his pubes, taking it.

He doesn't come, never planned to, but he jerks his hips and groans like he has, and when he pulls out, Eddie swallows like he did. Giving him the big, sad doe eyes as he does it. Really laying on the patheticness.

Steve tucks his still hard dick back into his underwear, like this over. Because Eddie likes that. Likes to feel denied. Even as he whines, and kicks up a fuss, he is getting off on it. Steve knows he is.

So, Steve crawls in bed, and Eddie follows. Steve lays his head back on his cold, wet pillow and sighs, like he's settling in for the night.

And Eddie curls up right next to him, settling against his body.

Steve reaches up and pets Eddie's hair, leaning over to kiss him on the head.

"You're perfect," Steve says.

Eddie doesn't miss a beat, "I know."

Steve laughs.

And Eddie grins.

"You gonna be good for me a little bit longer?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, adamant.

Eddie is bent over on his knees, and Steve is caressing his skin. Worshiping him. Everything about him.

Before Eddie, before this life he loves, Steve hadn't thought about being in charge in a long time, his king's crown long thrown away with flourish and good fucking riddance. But Eddie wants Steve to drive. Even when he's being a little brat. He's still begging for Steve to take charge. To lay a firm hand against his body, guiding him.

Steve never used to feel comfortable being in control of anything, not really, not even in his King Steve days. But he's learned to enjoy it, to do this with Eddie. Would do anything for Eddie.

He's slicked up his dick, and made sure Eddie is actually ready, and he is, before pressing inside.

Eddie makes the most beautiful sound Steve's ever heard. A happy whine, and Steve thinks he's done good. Done right by Eddie.

And that's all he ever wants to do.

Make him happy. No matter what that entails.

Even that comes from making him suffer, just a little bit, first.

"Don't you even think about coming before me," Steve demands, and Eddie whines about that, too.

Steve presses his fingers into Eddie's hips as he fucks him, and Eddie is finally behaving now that he's gotten exactly what he wanted. Head hung low, relaxed in his total submission.

That won't do. Not at all.

"What? Nothing to say now? No running commentary?" Steve goads.

Eddie says nothing, and Steve's not sure he can right now.

But he squeezes down on Steve's dick, and it makes Steve smile. He rubs his hip bone, thumbing the sharp point of it.

"C'mon, it's the closest thing I get to hearing a sports play-by-play these days."

Eddie scoffs, and Steve is baiting him. He watches sports all the time, much to Eddie's pissing and moaning.

"This is entrapment, Harrington," Eddie finally breathes out.

It is. It definitely is.

"I think you like it when I'm bratty," Eddie adds, his forehead resting against the mattress, his voice a little muffled.

Steve smiles, where Eddie can't see, "Lies."

He feels so good, open and slick, and Steve fucks him with long, hard strokes. Well practiced, after so many years together. Eddie's so fucking wet, he must have used an overabundance of lube.

Steve shifts his hips, changing his angle, and works over Eddie's prostate. Over and over, with precision, trying to shove Eddie to the precipice without toppling him over it. He wants Eddie to feel like he's gonna fail, but not actually fail.

Eddie whines, hanging his head, loose and limp. Finally, completely pliant. Trusting Steve.

And Steve keeps him there, dangling on the edge. Brushing past his prostate on every third stroke, then every fifth, every tenth. Backing off as he reads Eddie's body language. Eddie's loose, basically melted, but Steve can still tell. Can still read him like an open book. He knows everything there is to know about Eddie Munson.

It's the hardest he's ever studied in his whole life.

And Steve knows that Eddie's gonna come, soon.

So, Steve lets go of his own control, and shoves right into Eddie's prostate one more time, dick jerking as he empties himself into Eddie and Eddie whines, coming untouched all over the sheets below.

After Steve, as directed, like a good fucking boy.

Steve pulls out, and slaps him on the ass one more time, but this time in a good game sort of way, and Eddie laughs, wet and amused.

"I have no bones, my bones have gone," Eddie says, collapsing to the sheets, laying in his own wet spot and not giving a flying fuck.

Steve will just have to clean him up. Take care of him. So, Steve rubs his back, and then presses his thumb against Eddie hole. Loose and wet, so fucking wet.

Steve leans down and runs his tongue over it, flat and soothing, and Eddie sighs, content, "That feels good."

Steve rubs his hand on Eddie's ass cheek, and Eddie tries to spread his legs further, as Steve presses his tongue to him, over and over, cleaning him up, soothing him.

And then Eddie is finally quiet, finally still. Because he's fallen asleep.

Steve will have to move him, have to clean up the bed, but for now, he just rests his cheek against Eddie's bare side, throwing his arm over Eddie's damp thighs, now wet with sweat instead of water from the shower, and closes his eyes.

And smiles.

Steve does like it. The brattiness. Lives for it, honestly. Longs for that spark in Eddie's eyes, asking, begging, pleading, trusting Steve to do something about it. Trusting Steve to do so many things that Eddie will love, even if he pretends he doesn't, the whole goddamn way.

That is, until Eddie is finally settled and still, satisfied, just like he is in this very moment. Lightly snoring, a sound that is music to Steve's ears. Background noise that means he's home.

And Steve presses his lips to Eddie's skin, loving on him a little bit more.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤

#subeddieweek #steddie fic #brat/wet/choking #sub eddie munson #thisapplepielife: subeddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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