#I’m probably wrong but I love him anyway so I don’t care who he ends up with

[lookstairs]

There’s a lot of discussions over who Terus crush is

Is it Akane ?

Is it Aoi ?

Is it some random character we’ve never seen? Was he just lying to let the first girl down easy?

Personally I think he’s just a pretty guy who likes karaoke and trolling his classmates

This kids been exorcising apparitions his whole life you think he wants to date?

[zarameraki]

🖊️💌 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗻-𝗽𝗮𝗹 🖊️💌

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 prisoner sukuna x his penpal 𖥔 just plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 pussayy eating rawr but also u suck his dick so 𖥔 uraume and toji found family 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw

: ̗̀➛ words: 10k?? idfk it's long

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy halloween, mamas! 🎃 i know ive been MIA for a while but thats because i wasnt feeling creative. but now ive dumped a 10k sukuna fic on you for you to read at 3 in the morning. this one's got a kick to it yall. its long but give the bitch a chance, shes good. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

So, this was where you’d ended up—on a site for writing to prisoners. A pen-pal with an inmate.

How lonely did you have to be to fill out your info, pay a yearly fee, and do this? The answer: really, really lonely. Orphaned, friendless, and scarred from a relationship that had left you with broken ribs and a blind eye. And as if to top it all off, you wanted to reach out to a criminal. I guess you deserved at least that small bit of connection.

You scrolled through inmate profiles, noting their crimes—arson, theft, cybercrime, drug trafficking, money embezzlement, and so on. None of them were charged with homicides or serious offences.

One profile did catch your eye. The smirk in his mugshot suggested he’d probably killed someone and managed to evade the cops before they could pin anything on him.

“Sukuna Ryomen,” you whispered, clicking on his profile and staring at a laundry list of crimes. “Aggravated assault, drug manufacturing and distribution, kidnapping—Jesus—extortion, cybercrime, Satanism . . . what the hell?” You chuckled as you scrolled further. “Bank burglary, vandalism of religious properties—so that’s the Satanism part—illegal possession of firearms, stalking?”

Why was this man even on this website, given his long list of crimes?

You zoomed in on his mugshot. Was it wrong to find him attractive despite his record? He truly embodied the term “bad boy,” though he didn’t look like a boy at all. He was ruggedly handsome with hollowed eyes. His light-mink hair was swept back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore a single hoop earring in his left ear. Black tattoos marked his nose bridge, jaw, and the centre of his forehead, while narrow-eyed designs were inked on his cheekbones.

You wondered if he’d get any letters, given his long rap sheet. Maybe delusional women like you, who’s pussies sang for high-profile criminals, sure. 

Licking your lower lip, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen, tapping the end against the sheet as you continued to study his face.

Then you started writing.

Hello, Sukuna Ryomen, 

My name is Y/N. 

You thought it over. For now, you'd keep it light before diving into your deeper issues. It felt easier to share your thoughts with someone you’d never meet face-to-face than with a stranger in a bar whose only interest was getting into your pants.

You kept writing.

Dear Sukuna Ryomen,

I’m currently living in an apartment complex that’s in desperate need of renovation. I’m harvesting cockroaches—no, I’m not eating them; the fuckers just won’t stop nesting in my kitchen cabinets, and I’m tired of spending money on pest sprays. On top of that, I’m pretty broke, barely managing to keep a roof over my head. I’ve even considered trying to seduce the landlord into reducing my rent, though I doubt any man would find a woman with one working eye appealing. I noticed you have an extra beneath your real eyes. Care to share?

Anyway, this is my first time writing to someone like you, so apologies if it’s a bit awkward. I wish I could send a nude, but I’m pretty sure you’d wish you were blind after that. I feel like I’m rambling like this is my diary, so I should probably wrap it up. If you want to write back, feel free. I don’t mean to sound privileged, but I’m lonely as fuck.

Thank you (?),  

Y/N

P.S. About the Satanism—care to explain?

You didn’t bother proof-reading and folded the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a lick. From your drawer, you pulled out a pack of old stickers—remnants of your childhood—and placed one where the envelope met. You wrote the prison address provided on the website and added the stamps you’d bought during your walk, which was your final push into becoming a prison pen-pal. After selecting Sukuna Ryomen on the site and uploading your ID and other required documents, you waited for your profile to be approved. 

After three days of waiting, you sent out the letter first thing in the morning and anxiously awaited a response.

Sukuna’s fists collided with the inmate’s face, each strike more brutal than the last. Blood splattered across his knuckles as the crowd of orange-clad convicts roared with twisted delight, their voices a chorus of vile encouragement. “Finish him!” they taunted, while others jeered at the barely conscious man, urging him to get up and fight back, to aim a desperate kick at Sukuna’s balls.

“Sukuna!” A guard’s voice cut through the chaos, and soon the officers were pushing through the throng, shutting the prisoners who dared resist their authority. “Get up, now!”

“Fuck off!” Sukuna snarled, his lips curling into a sneer as he shoved the guard aside. He watched with cold satisfaction as the man lay still, blood pooling beneath him. All this because the idiot had the nerve to laugh when Sukuna missed a three-pointer. Now, the bald bastard had paid the price for his arrogance, and Sukuna breathed in the aftermath—his own dark victory painted in blood and broken bones.

Officer Gojo Satoru strode into the circle, handcuffs gleaming in his hand. 

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue-eyed bastard, a wave of hatred surging through him so fierce he could almost feel his fingers tightening around Satoru's throat. The very thought of choking the life out of him fueled his dark desires.

Satoru’s father—the man responsible for dragging Sukuna down, catching him red-handed with crates of cocaine at the border, and sealing his fate with a fifty-year sentence. If Sukuna had known the old man’s spawn would end up as a deputy officer here, watching his every move with those piercing eyes, he would have never shown up to that cursed delivery. But no—he had wanted to play the good boss, personally seeing his precious cargo off. Now, every day behind bars was a constant reminder of that one fatal mistake, and Sukuna’s rage festered as he thought of the traitor, Yuji. The little fuck who sold him out would pay dearly, and Sukuna was already plotting the perfect revenge.

His own fucking nephew sold him off. Motherfucker wanted the throne for himself—an empire Sukuna built with his bare hands. 

“Throw him in the ice box,” Satoru commanded, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. The officer roughly cuffed Sukuna’s wrists, shoving him forward. “Cool down, Big Guy. You’re not going any—”

Before he could finish, Sukuna rammed his forehead into Gojo’s nose, relishing the satisfying crunch as the lanky bastard staggered back. The inmates roared with approval from where they were restrained by the other officers. 

Gojo chuckled, dabbing at his bleeding nose with a pristine handkerchief, the kind only a spoiled little bitch like him would carry. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

“Hilarious,” Sukuna whispered, a dark grin curling at his lips.

“Okay,” Gojo replied with a casual shrug. Without warning, his fist slammed into Sukuna’s jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Three fucking times.

The officers stood by, indifferent, as their captain unleashed his fury. For them, it was just another case of self-defence.

Sukuna finally collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming. Gojo leaned over him, his voice a venomous hiss. “Who’s laughing now?” A final, vicious kick to Sukuna’s chest left him gasping for breath. “Keep him in that freezer until he’s begging to be let out. No meals for a week.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred as he glared at Satoru’s retreating figure, the ringing in his ears barely drowning out the disappointed murmurs of his fellow inmates. His body, battered and beaten, finally surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

When he came to, he found himself in the prison’s infirmary, cocooned in three heated blankets. Yet the warmth did little to pierce the deep, bone-chilling cold that gripped him. The need to piss gnawed at him, but even that seemed distant compared to the icy numbness that had taken hold. 

“Welcome back to hell.” 

Sukuna raised his head from the pillows to find Uraume, the prison’s doctor. They were also the only person he tolerated, and somewhat close to since he ended up in the infirmary more than once. He hoped they considered him a ‘something’ after he killed a two-hundred pound guy for groping their ass in the cafeteria. How did he do it? He knew Uraume kept a pocket knife in their doctor’s coat and quickly swept it out and stuck it in the dick’s jugular. 

“How long have I been out for?” he asked, squirming his arm out of the blanket to rub his eyes. 

“A day.” 

“What?” Sukuna pulled himself out of the blanket by wiggling around like the fucking worms his cell mate Toji liked to collect every time they went in the courtyard to play. They’re better company than your grouchy ass, he said once. “How long was I in the ice box?” 

“Barely an hour.” Well, that’s just pussy behaviour from him. “They pulled you out before hypothermia killed you. What a way to die, am I right?” They chuckled, preparing some pills in a small disposable cup. “Here, take these. They’re nutrients.” 

“I could use actual food.” Sukuna downed them like a shot. God, he missed alcohol. “That blue-eyed bitch restricted my meals for a week.” 

“Fuck him.” Uraume took out a sandwich from their bag and threw it in Sukuna’s direction. “Just fake illness when you’re hungry. I’m always here to feed my favourite dog.” 

Sukuna snorted. “Go to hell.” 

“Already here.” Uraume clipped back their white hair with the black dyed red. Like someone smashed their head into the wall and the colour just bled to the sides. “Oh, this came for you.”  

Sukuna shoved the sandwich in his mouth and stretched his muscles before walking over, snatching the letter. It was already opened, a flimsy teddy-bear sticker hanging from the paper. “What the fuck is this?” 

“A letter.” 

“A letter? For me?” 

Uraume broke their attention from the computer to look at him. “Remember when you had me register you on that prison pen-pal bullshit after Toji received a pile of fan letters?”

Sukuna blinked. 

He definitely remembered being jealous when Toji got a letter from an artist who drew herself naked on paper for him, and a shit ton more asking for his dick size or when he’ll be out. Of course, Sukuna was envious of the attention. Plus, no one in prison made good company. He just wanted the taste of the outside world again after being locked in for five years now. Even if it was through ink on paper. 

But then Sukuna looked down at his first ever letter torn open. “Why is this open? Who read it?” If it was Satoru, he was going to rip his eyeballs from his sockets and feed it to Toji’s pet worm. 

“Relax. They’ve got to identify if there’s any substances attached to the paper, or any other shady shit. Whoever wrote to you is just a harmless nobody.” 

Sukuna frowned, bringing the letter up to his nose. It smelled like a plain envelope. No drugs, nothing.

He found purchase on the bed again, pulling out the folded paper and ironing the creases out on his leg. Here we go.

He began reading each word carefully. 

A week went by since you’d mailed your letter to Sukuna Ryomen. A week of pure torture to hear something back from the criminal. You’d relaxed on Sunday because the post offices are closed, but on Monday, you were at your mailbox, watching the mailman sort out letters and slip them through the boxes. 

Once he left, you dashed to your box and flipped through the coupons, flyers, newsletters—

Your breath hitched. 

Everything dropped from your hand except the cream envelope with an address from the prison. You didn’t care about reading it upstairs and quickly, yet carefully, tore it open from the side, reading the writing. 

Trying to read it. 

Sukuna had terrible handwriting. It made you giggle. 

You leaned against the mailboxes and murmured the words written under your breath. 

Hey, Y/N

I don’t know how to start a letter since I’ve never written one so don’t mind if I hurt your little feelings. Don’t know if you’re aiming to entertain me or bore me to death with this “dear diary” bullshit. I thought I’d get a nude, at the very least. Hell, Toji over here—yeah, the bastard who was on the news last year with a thing for setting houses on fire—gets way better fan mail every week. Pictures, drawings, mostly nudes. And I get your whining about rent and cockroaches?

Look, I may be locked up, but I’m giving you some advice here. Don’t fuck your landlord. You’ve got one eye? Good—use it. Hell, that’s already intimidating enough. Threaten the prick to call pest control, or better yet, trap those damn cockroaches and give him a taste. Stuff a few down his throat if he still doesn’t take you seriously. People respect action, not whining.

Speaking of. One eye? Really? Now, how’d it happen? Was it torn out? Still got some sight in it, or is it just gone? That’s gangster. Hot, even. I’d fuck a one-eyed chick. Maybe when I’m out we can cross that off my bucket list. Nah, I’m just playing with you.

Or maybe I’m not.

Think on it.

Hate (in a friendly way),

Sukuna.

P.S. Yeah, I took out some satanist scum who tried kidnapping one of my people’s kids. But don’t go thinking I’m in with those freaks. I’m just the Devil they wish they could be.

“Woah,” you breathed out, hugging the letter to your chest. This was it. This was what you were waiting for. A pull towards something real, something thrilling. It’s all you’ve been craving for eons now. 

“Whatcha got there, sweetie?” The voice snapped you back, harsh as nails against glass. Your landlord had wandered out of his door on the first floor, wrapped in a faded bathrobe and gripping his mug like some king holding court. “Made a mess on my floor with your papers.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly tucking Sukuna’s letter back into its envelope and reaching down to gather the stray papers scattered on the floor. When you straightened, he was already in your space, close enough that the coffee on his breath made you flinch.

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused.” His smirk widened as he leaned in, his nose grazing your neck. The greasy warmth of his breath made bile rise to the back of your throat. “Just wanna take a little bite out of you.”

Sukuna’s advice echoed in your mind. You’d never—never—think of following through with his revolting insinuation. But letting this sleaze get away with treating you like this? No. Not anymore.

“Step away,” you commanded, your voice low but unyielding. “Now.”

He blinked, then chuckled, dismissive. “Feisty today, huh? Got a letter from your boyfriend in prison, sweetie?” How did he know that? Fuck. Did he go through your mail before it was deposited? “Let me guess—you think he’s got your back now?” He leaned even closer, the stench of his laugh wafting in the air. “Come on, where's that one eye of yours aiming, sweetheart?”

“Next person who mentions my eye eats the dirt,” you snapped, every ounce of your resolve boiling up. “And as for what I’ve got—it’s something way out of your league, old geezer. So get the hell back to your apartment, and call pest control now.” 

For a second, he was stunned, face going pale as your words sank in. But you could feel Sukuna’s thrill, his twisted approval in the back of your mind. You’d tapped into something that wouldn’t settle. But then, “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone put on their big girl panties.” 

Your jaw tightened as you held your ground, taking steady breaths. You’d rehearsed this moment in your head, picturing a confrontation that ended with him backing down. But things never went as planned with him.

“I’m not here to beg,” you said evenly. “But I’m not gonna let you walk all over me, either. I pay rent. It’s your responsibility to keep this place livable.”

He snorted, raising his coffee mug and giving you a once-over that made your skin crawl. 

“Not for free, sweetheart. You’ve gotta give me something worth my time.” His eyes travelled down your body. 

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, but you squared your shoulders. “I’m already paying rent. It’s your right to ensure your tenant's safety.”

His face darkened, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Not when that tenant’s acting like a spoiled little bitch.” And then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the mug’s contents right at you.

You dodged, but a few hot droplets scorched your arm, leaving a raw sting that only fueled your anger. He laughed, shaking his head with a mocking scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I kick you out on the streets.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned on your heel, heading back upstairs with quick steps, forcing the tears back until you could lock the door behind you. Once inside, you slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The letter from Sukuna crackled beneath your hands, and you clutched it close to your chest, feeling the heat of humiliation turn into something fiercer, darker. 

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself, pushing back to your feet with renewed energy. You marched to your desk, grabbed your notebook and pen, and let the words pour out, hurried and jagged. If anyone would understand this kind of anger, it was him—the one man whose entire life was carved from rage.

And this time, you wouldn’t hold anything back.

“Letter for you, Ryomen.”

Sukuna dropped down from his top bunk, snatching the letter right out of the guard’s hand.

“From your girl?” Toji asked from across the table, flipping a card, halfway to beating Sukuna in Blackjack.

“Not my girl,” Sukuna grunted, tearing into the envelope. But still, he smirked as he unfolded your letter.

Hey, Sukuna. 

Fuck my landlord to hell and back. I need you to know I’d kill him if I could get away with it. I’m trying to keep this “ethical” so they don’t cut off my letters, but let’s just, I hate the elderly. They should be rotting in retirement houses instead of owning properties and doing a shit job running them. That senile asshole threw hot coffee at me this morning. Burning. I nearly shattered the damn mug over his skull.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing the letter hard enough to crumple the edges.

And now he’s saying he’ll kick me out, as if I have anything to pay him with. This place is a dump, anyway. I might hit up one of those shelters for women, maybe hop from couch to couch for a bit. My job at corner store’s giving me scraps; it’s not nearly enough to get by. So yeah, you could say I’m screwed.

And to answer your question about my eye—yeah, I’m blind in it. Got it from a real piece of work I used to call a boyfriend. He decided my face was fair game, and thought I could just live with it. But he's dead now. Overdosed last I heard from his brother. Good riddance, am I right?

Oh, and for that kink of yours you mentioned—sending my picture along with a little extra treat. 

Hate (because I’m about to go crazy here), Y/N

P.S. For all the things you’ve done, I can’t lie—the world you talk about sounds safer than this one. Well, except for you committing the most heinous crimes. 

Toji clicked his tongue. “Look at that dumbass grin on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered, flipping the letter over—and there it was: a stick drawing of a woman lying on a bed, two messy circles for her chest, legs spread wide, and what looked like . . . well, he didn’t need to guess. Sukuna went from grinning to outright laughing. “She’s hilarious.”

“Not just that. She’s sexy as fuck,” Toji said, holding up a photo, ripped clean in half.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed. He swiped the photo and pieced it back together, cursing himself for tearing through the envelope like a brute. But as the two halves reconnected, he felt his pulse kick up, hard.

“Well, shit.” You were more than just beautiful. The way your hair fell, the curves of your body wrapped in that short black dress, standing under a streetlamp with the city lights glinting around you . . . But it was the smile—the easy, teasing grin—that really did it for him. “I’m definitely jerking off tonight.” Respectfully, of course.

“Can we get back to the game now, or—”

“Fuck the game. I’ve got a letter to write.” And a plan brewing to get you out of that dump and right where he wanted you.

Your landlord was pronounced dead. 

An ambulance had arrived early in the morning, around nine, waking up every tenant. You were one of them, groggy from your sleep, and all the crying you’d done from realising how high rent was these days.

Apparently, he had a heart-attack, said one of the residents. 

He was eighty, said another. 

You stuck to the back of the crowd as his body was wheeled out on the stretcher. How could he have died just five days after you sent your last letter to Sukuna? It couldn’t have been him, could it? Maybe one of his associates? Given the man’s extensive criminal history, you suspected he had some serious connections.

As the crowd began to disperse a few minutes later, you joined them but didn’t head upstairs. Instead, you made your way to the mailroom.

And luckily, Sukuna’s letter was present. 

All he wrote was: 

You’re welcome. 

Neutral, 

Sukuna. 

You broke out laughing, or crying. Whatever it was, it felt good. So good. 

Hey, Sukuna!

These days, I’m feeling calm. Really calm. I’m sleeping well, eating better, even starting to enjoy work. Sometimes, I’m scared it’ll all get snatched away. By who? I don’t know. Life’s been that way, though. I’ve lost so much—my parents, my friends, even my left eyesight. At one point, I lost my will to keep going. But I guess some part of me held on, believing a better day would come.

Turns out, those days are here. Who would’ve thought a felon could make me feel less alone? I know it sounds crazy, but my life’s been full of surprises lately.

If you think you can’t bring happiness to someone, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I’m genuinely happy, and it’s thanks to you. I already think of you as a friend—and I hope you think of me the same way. You don’t get a choice in that, by the way.

Love (genuinely), Y/N

P.S. I’d like to come visit you sometime soon.

Sukuna lowered the letter, his eyes settling on the wall where he’d pinned up your picture. “Toji?” he called out, still staring at the photo.

Toji paused mid-pushup, raising an eyebrow. “What, bitch?”

Sukuna let out a low laugh, barely shaking his head as he spoke. “I think I’m in love.”

Hello, Y/N.

When I’m out in fifty years, I’ll give you a real surprise. And don’t write me any more of that sentimental crap, alright? Save it for when you visit. I’d rather hear it in person.

Hate (but maybe not so much), Sukuna

P.S. You’re beautiful.

You pressed the letter to your chest, biting your lip as warmth spread across your cheeks, your face aching from how much you were smiling. It was official—you were falling for Sukuna Ryomen. You’d have to look your absolute best for your visit. Just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, maybe even feeling his hand brush yours, made your heart race. You’d kiss him if they’d let you. And if they didn’t? What could the guards do? Throw you in jail? Now that would be ironic.

But fifty years . . . Would you really wait fifty years for Sukuna to be released? How high was his bail, anyway, that even his hidden cash stash wasn’t enough to cover it? He had to have some kind of pull with the right people, didn’t he?

With a sigh, you grabbed a piece of paper and began to write your reply.

Sukuna,

Fifty years is a lifetime, don’t you think?

Love, Y/N

Sukuna read the short note you’d sent, surprised by how much you’d poured into just a few lines. He noticed small, faded dots on the paper—tears, unmistakably yours. You’d been crying, and it didn’t sit right with him. His stomach tightened, but thankfully, he’d already secured your visit through Uraume, who handled it while Gojo was away.

Now, all that was left was seeing you.

He wondered how he’d keep his hands to himself after all the nights he’d spent memorising your picture, losing himself in thoughts of you. Every night before sleep, every morning when he woke, every time Toji was out cold and couldn’t hear Sukuna’s barely-stifled groans as he imagined you were there. God, he wanted to steal you away. 

The day of your visit finally came. Sukuna was led to the visitor room, wrists cuffed, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t set foot in this room since a couple of his associates had visited months back with updates on the family business and Yuji’s latest fiascos. They’d kept everything running despite his brother’s mess-ups, and Sukuna owed them.

He glanced down at his hands. Fifty years. He’d been scheming for a way out since he first set foot in here, but now, with you in the picture, the urge to escape was relentless. Bail was twenty million. Even if he could scrounge it up, he doubted he could get it done without tipping off the wrong people. No, his only real option was breaking out.

“Sukuna.”

A soft voice pulled his head up slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time his name was spoken with such warmth. 

“Y/N.”

He shot up from his seat, his eyes flicking to the guards stationed in the corner before letting himself drink you in. You looked stunning—a soft sundress, hair delicately curled, makeup enhancing every curve and angle of your face. His gaze lingered on your eyes, marvelling at the contrast: one foggy, hazy, while the other was bright and striking. A smirk pulled at his mouth, but he softened it for you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, the one word holding more emotion than he’d ever admit, especially with witnesses around.

“Hi,” you whispered back, eyes lowering down his muscled body, the pattern tattoos like rings around his wrist and with the first three buttons of his jumpsuit unbuttoned, you found the top of the rings on his pecs as well. His light-pink hair was brushed down, the tendrils poking his reddish-brown eyes. A peculiar colour. “Hi.”

He smiled. “You already said that, baby.” 

Baby. Gosh, you were even more nervous now. 

“They said I can’t shake your hand.” You looked at the cuffs on his wrists and tossed a glare at the guards. “Or hands.” 

“Fuck them.” Sukuna sat down and you followed. “You’re stunning.” 

You blushed. “Thank you.” 

“Not gonna compliment me back?” His deep voice was cocky, smug. You loved it. 

“You’re handsome and you know it.” 

“I sure do.” 

You chuckled and Sukuna watched you with a soft expression. “Thanks for . . . you know.” 

He understood the words you mouthed and smiled. “A little Ricin never hurt anyone.”

“How did you pull it off?”

His eyebrow arched in surprise. “Just because I’m stuck in this hellhole doesn’t mean I’ve lost everyone’s respect out there. Blood is thicker than water in my clan—except when it comes to my nephew. I just want to drain it out of him.”

Your own smile faltered. “Well . . . I’d like to have coffee with you. But fifty years, Sukuna, is too long.” 

He sighed. “I know.” 

“Isn’t there any way to get you out?” 

Sukuna saw the longing on your face and wanted nothing more than to hold it in his hands and stare at you for hours. He just couldn’t believe you were real. He would’ve killed you if you were cat-fishing him. “I really want to touch you,” he whispered instead. He did. He really fucking did. 

You pinched your lips in a smile. “Me, too.” 

Sukuna placed his hands on the table and grabbed both of yours. They were so soft and small. He wanted to kiss each finger. Knuckle. Vein.

“Hands off, Ryomen,” the guard warned. He didn’t relent, and simply winked at you. “I said hands off.” 

“Fuck you,” Sukuna spat back. 

“Visit’s over.” The pair of guards pried Sukuna away, making you reach out for him with a protest. 

“I’ll see you this weekend.” Sukuna winked and let the guards drag him away. 

You sat stunned before the officers escorted you out of the visiting room and apologised on his behalf. 

When the weekend finally rolled around, you found yourself standing at the prison gates once more, entering alongside a pair of guards.

Waiting by the visitor room was a towering figure with straight silver hair and striking blue-eyes. You got a closer look at the badge—Satoru Gojo. You’ve read the name in one of Sukuna’s letters complaining about him.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, waving away the guards and pressing a hand on your back, leading you down the opposite direction. 

“We can chat another time, officer. I’ve got to meet Suku—”

“He can wait. Prison teaches a man patience. He’s got fifty more years left. Plenty to visit then.” Gojo opened the door and guided you inside. The shutting made your shoulders flinch. The lock clicking had dread pooling in your stomach. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?” 

You eyed the dark setting bathed in a golden light from a corner lamp. There was a cart with a decanter set and a mini-fridge to the right. A bookshelf and a wardrobe on the left. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

Gojo shrugged and poured himself whiskey before taking his seat behind his table. You sat opposite him. “So, what’s your relationship with my favourite prisoner?” 

You blinked. “Uh, we’re just pen-pals.” 

“Lying to a police officer is a serious offence.” 

“I’m telling the truth,” you said. “We’re strictly pen-pals.” 

“I’ve read your letters to know that isn’t true, Princess. So unless you want to sit there and lie to my fucking face, I suggest you start using that mouth for good and tell me the goddamn truth.” He slammed his glass down, but his face remained smiling with false politeness. 

You felt suffocated in the office, eyes darting left and right for anything sharp in case he tried some other method to get you to talk. 

“I’ve been in this field for a decade now to know when someone is hiding something from me,” Gojo continued, taking a leisure sip from his drink. “I have a file on you, Y/N. You’re an only child, with no proper education or a stable job. You’re one bad decision away from being trafficked. You’re submissive, a follower, who if went missing, no one would look for.” Tears welled your eyes at his words. “And I know that bastard’s the reason you’re still living in that dump you call home.” 

That was the last nail in the coffin. 

“I’ve been following you since your first letter,” he said quietly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be any more wrong.” He stood up and rounded his way to you. 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat. “Please. I don’t know anything. I—I don’t—Sukuna’s a friend, yes, but I’m not involved in any of his criminal activities.” 

“Friend?” Gojo spat out. “That man is the last person you’d ever want as your friend.” He stalked forward and you retracted. “He’s committed more crimes in his lifetime than any other man. He’s killed half the people in this country, extorted money from politicians, burned down houses for fun, and killed my father!” He grabbed the collars of your dress and slammed you back into his wardrobe door. A cry ripped from your throat. “And you, a nobody, has the audacity to call that fucker a friend? Sweetheart, you’re just a ploy, a pawn, a time-pass for him. A hole to warm his cock in.” A sardonic chuckle. “That’ll never happen since he isn’t getting out anytime soon. But, hey, maybe I can prepare you for him.” 

Your breath quickened, a whimper slipping past your lips. “How does that make you any better than him?” 

Gojo smiled and brushed his lips over your ears. “Because I have the power to get away with it.” 

Your eyes, frightened and flickering, dragged up to his blue-ones. 

In the blink of an eye, you slapped him across the face, taking him by complete surprise and broke free from his hands. He leaped towards you as you unlocked the door and ran out and down the hall, shouting for help. 

A pair of officers turned the corner. 

“Help, please!” You fell into the arms of one of them. “Please, he’s going to hurt me!” 

“Who?” one asked with concern. 

“Satoru Gojo!” 

They exchanged a look and briskly turned away, leaving you standing. Their spines straightened as Gojo walked down the hallway, flattening a hand down his chest. The duo saluted him and walked away with their heads down. 

Your heart sank. 

You had no power here. 

“I told you, Princess,” Gojo purred, prowling towards you, “this is my domain.” 

You cried out and ran towards the visitor’s room. The door knob was locked and could only be opened with a keycard. “Help!” You slammed your palms on the surface. “Please, someone! Help—ah!” 

Gojo gripped the back of your hair and pulled you from the door. “Perfect timing, actually. I’d like to see the look on Ryomen’s face before I split his woman on my cock.” He swiped the card and opened the door, pushing you inside but controlling you with the grip he had on your head. 

Sukuna was already standing and enraged, held back by two guards who struggled. He must’ve heard your helpless cries. You wish he didn’t have to. “Let her go, Gojo!” 

“Oh, I will,” said Gojo, “as soon as I’m done with her.” 

Sukuna growled, thrashing against his restraints. “You fucking prick, I’m gonna tear you in half you if you touch her!” 

“Like this?” Gojo squeezed your left breast and laughed. 

Sukuna elbowed one of the guards in his nose, momentarily seeking freedom to hit the other. Hope blossomed in your chest as he fought them off and made his way towards you. 

Gojo chuckled and pulled out his gun, shooting Sukuna in the leg. You jumped with a scream as he fell to the floor, clutching his thigh. “All this chaos for a common whore,” he muttered. “Come on, Princess. Let’s put you to good use.” 

“No, please!” You shouted as he dragged you away. “Sukuna, no! Sukuna!” 

“Y/N.” Sukuna reached his arm out, his hand curling into a fist and falling defeatedly onto the floor. “Don’t hurt her, please.” His face was squeezed in pain, as the guards kept him pinned to the floor. “Please! Don’t fucking hurt her—” 

The door closed shut, and the last sight before your eyes was Sukuna crying. 

Sukuna hadn’t heard from you in over a month. 

He’d also spend the month in the infirmary after Uraume did an extensive surgery on his leg. It hadn’t hit a vital artery. He believed Satoru’s aim was calculated to keep him alive. To continue letting him suffer. 

Sukuna also went quiet. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone except murmuring to himself. He read back on your letters, slept with the papers under his pillow, if he slept at all. 

Every morning, afternoon, night, in and out of his dry sleep, he was plotting a way to get out of this hell and find you. Would you even want to see him? Would you even care? Were you even alive? He’d dragged you into his mess, put you in danger, and fell into Satoru’s disgusting trap. 

“You need to eat something, Sukuna,” Uraume advised as they have been since his injury. They placed the tray in front of him. “At least eat the yogurt.” 

Were you eating? Were you still living in his house? Were you alive? That question rang in his head again. 

“For fucks sake.” Uraume brought forth a stool and sat next to his bed, staring at the side of his face. “What the hell do you want to do?” 

He wanted to kill Satoru first. Then escape with Toji since he was the only bastard he trusted in this place. Then find you and run away from the law as far as possible. It was a simple plan that required efficiency. 

“Are you gonna talk—” 

Sukuna shoved the tray aside, the food falling onto the floor. He was irritated by the questions outside and inside of his head. “I need to find her,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to know if she’s alive.” Please, baby, please be alive. 

“Everything all right in here, doc?” One of the guards stationed outside the door asked with his head peering through the door. 

Sukuna stared at him, then went back to Uraume. They met his eyes with their blank stare. They scanned down his body, to his injured leg, then back to his head. 

A sigh left them. “No,” they replied. “Do you mind helping me clean up the mess?” 

Sukuna gritted his jaw as the guard walked in, closing the door and crouching down, grumbling curses at Sukuna. Uraume stood from their stool and made their way to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. 

Sukuna's eyes lightened, spine straightening. A smile curved at his lip as they flicked the droplets from the tip of the injection and walked over, making small-talk about the weather. 

Suddenly, Uraume jabbed the needle into the officer’s neck and pushed down the plunger. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and staring up at them as they shrugged. Sukuna watched with pure delight as his body began to convulse, foam gathering at this mouth and dripping from the side. 

Then he stopped. 

“He’s dead,” Uraume said before Sukuna could ask. “Works the night shift so you won’t have a problem running into anyone else. Change into his clothes. I’ll drive.” They walked away to grab a face mask. 

“Why?” asked Sukuna. 

Uraume sighed, head dropping. “Because I fucking hate it here.” 

Sukuna was definitely going to hire them once he killed his Gojo, and his nephew. 

He quickly changed into the officer’s clothes, giving him a hard kick in the stomach that had Uraume rolling their eyes. 

Sukuna followed behind as they led the way. “Let’s take Toji.”

“Why?” they asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“Just feel bad.” 

“And when did you start feeling guilt?” Uraume easily slipped past the security gate, waving to the officer who was busy on his phone. 

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling because he knew. Sure, you’d only touched him once, but your letters were what truly began to change him. Just the other day, he’d lost a round of blackjack, stacking his debt to Toji by a million, and instead of knocking the guy out cold, Sukuna shook hands and called it a ‘good game.’ “On second thought, let’s leave him here for the time being.” Until he got his money in check. 

Once they settled into Uraume’s car, Sukuna quickly discarded the officer's cap, tie, and badges. Uraume entered your address from the letters, and they drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

When they arrived, the building matched your description: shitty.

Uraume stopped Sukuna before he could leap out of the car. They scanned the street for any signs of police presence. “Go. I’ll wait here.” 

Sukuna nodded and dashed out of the car, walking inside the apartment. There was no buzzer system, which meant anyone could stroll in, armed and dangerous. This was a problem. He needed to get you out of here and into one of his safe houses—a hidden place even his bastard nephew didn’t know about.

He hurried up the emergency stairwell to the tenth floor, slightly winded by the time he reached door 1090.

This was it.

With his hands gripping the edges of the door, he hunched forward, heart racing. Please, be alive.

Finally, he knocked.

He chewed the shit out of his bottom lip, hissing impatiently through his teeth. “Come on, Y/N.” He knocked again, his impatience boiling over. “It’s me, Sukuna! Please, open the door.” He pounded harder, fear creeping in with each passing second. The Sukuna Ryomen was . . . scared. “Goddammit!”

“Sukuna . . .?” 

He halted mid-breakdown and turned slowly, his heart dropping at the sight of you standing there with two bags of groceries. You looked so fragile, your complexion pale, and the radiance he remembered from your visit had completely vanished.

The grocery bags slipped from your hands and fell to the ground.

In an instant, you both rushed toward each other, and he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his hand in the back of your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your body wash.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His eyes were directed straight ahead, and he was shaking. Terribly. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands. Gently, you brushed aside his dark, mink-like hair, tracing the tattoos on his skin with your fingertips. “You’re alive,” you whispered, overwhelmed by relief. You couldn’t help but touch him, and he simply smiled, allowing you the closeness. “God, you’re alive. Sukuna—you’re really alive. How?”

“Of course, I am. I just needed to know you were alive,” he replied, his hands enveloping your cheeks. “Where did you go? Why did you stop writing to me?”

Your face went blank. “What do you mean?”  

“Your letters. You stopped writing to me.” 

“They . . .” Your voice cracked. “They told me you were sentenced to death.” 

He was taken back. “What the fuck?”  

Realisation dawned upon you. The second time you visited Sukuna, Satoru had literally dragged you out of the station, kicking you out the doors. He’d threatened to take you to his office next time, but since he had a meeting with officials that day, he’d reluctantly let you go. That didn’t stop you from sending countless letters, pouring your heart out until, two weeks later, you finally received a notification from the police station. Sukuna had been sentenced to death by lethal injection and was no longer alive. You’d cried for days on end. You imagined he had been cremated and reduced to ashes, stored away somewhere. The thought shattered you. For an entire month, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your house.

Until tonight. 

And he was here. Sukuna was here. He was alive. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing the area below your sightless eye. “Let’s head inside, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist. He held your hand tightly while using his other arm to carry your grocery bags. Once you reached your apartment, you opened the door and locked it securely. The deadbolt you had installed was a precaution against Satoru, just in case he showed up.

“I’m so happy you’re al—” 

Sukuna kissed you before the words could leave your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning from the taste of his lips, the taste you’d been craving for months now. He didn’t allow you to breathe, didn’t pull away. You both stood there in the alcove, kissing for minutes, clinging to each other. He cupped the back of your head and drew apart from your lips, peppering kisses over your face, especially your foggy eye. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to make love to you. For hours.” Your grip tightened in his shirt. “Then I need you to pack everything in a bag and run away with me.” 

��Run away?” You searched his dark-reddish eyes. “Run away where?”

His knuckles grazed your wet cheek. “Somewhere not even God can find us.”

You swallowed hard. “They’ll send out a manhunt, Sukuna. What if we get caught? What if they take you—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “No one is going to take me away from you. Do you get that?” His strong fingers moved through your hair. “I’d turn this world to dust before that happens.”

Your insides melted from the threat. “Take me,” you murmured over his lips. He kissed you. “Take me everywhere, anywhere, wherever, as long as it’s with you.” 

Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like a bride as he kicked open your bedroom door. He set you down on the bed, then began stripping off his clothes, revealing the geometric tattoos that marked his thighs and torso. You were caught off guard by how quickly he moved, fumbling to take off your sweater and jeans. By the time you looked back at him, he was already naked, and your gaze dropped to what you could only describe as a gloriously, long erection. 

“Woah,” you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. “You’re abnormally big.” 

“You can take it.” He leaned over you, tearing your panties without a second thought. Before you could protest about them being your favorite pair, he spread your legs and went down on you. “Oh, my god—Sukuna—wait—”

“Waited too long,” he growled, his mouth finding your clit as he buried his nose between your wet folds. He nipped, licked, and bit, his tongue plunging deep into you, creating messy sounds that filled the air. You couldn't form words or catch your breath, gripping the roots of his hair tightly.

When you came like a flood, Sukuna lifted your hips, making sure not a single drop of you was lost to the sheets. He let out loud, deep moans as he sloppily lapped at your sensitive cunt.

He wiped his glistening mouth with his fingers and then pressed them against your lips. You eagerly sucked on his warm, thick digits, noting the lustrous glint in his eyes. He pulled his fingers out abruptly. “Suck my cock.” 

Suck his what? 

You looked down and saw him leaking at the tip. You clenched your legs, unsure. He wanted you to take that into your mouth?

You licked your lips, managing to kneel while he stood before you. He took hold of himself, rubbing the tip against your lips. You instinctively flicked your tongue out to taste him, causing him to flinch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to enjoy it. “Just take it in your mouth.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around his hot, veiny length. You opened your jaw as wide as you could and slowly took him in. His head fell back, and he engulfed your face with his palms. Your performance was mediocre, and yet he was entertained.

His tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you pull back to cough. He laughed softly, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Come on, baby. You need to get used to it.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you replied, your voice shaky as you reached for him again.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You took a deep breath and extended your tongue. He rested the head of his cock on it and started to move his hips slowly.

Slowly, you took him in, feeling his satisfaction as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He tasted warm and a little salty, and you found your hand wandering between your legs, seeking some relief.

“I’m going to pick up the pace, alright, baby?”

You nodded in response.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you choke,” he said, hooking a stray lock behind your ear. “It’ll just make me come faster.”

With that, he thrust deeper, and you gripped his hips tightly, struggling to catch your breath. He noticed and pulled back slightly to give you a moment, but it was brief before he pushed back in again. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” His movements became more feverish, and you felt the pressure building as you choked and gagged, saliva escaping at the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat.” 

You tapped his leg, shaking your head.

“No?” He smirked. “You don’t want me to come down your throat?”

You shook your head again and pointed between your legs.

In an instant, Sukuna pulled out. He flipped you onto your chest, lifting your ass up in the air. Without a second thought, he thrust himself deep inside you, and you cried out his name into the pillow.

He felt so full, so thick, pushing into you with a force that made your breath hitch. It was everything you needed—so good, so fucking good. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. He filled you completely, driving into you with a fast rhythm that left you moaning, completely lost in the pleasure.

Your nails clawed at the sheets as his thick tip pressed against your womb, punctuated by the stinging slaps of his hands against your ass. He showered you with a blend of sweet and dirty words—“good fucking girl,” “cock slut,” “so perfect and tight,” “little whore”—and you pushed back, needing him deeper and deeper.

Sukuna released a torrent of warm cum inside you, still driving his hips against you, holding you securely by the waist. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through you, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back. He bent your knees, driving himself back inside without hesitation. How was he still so hard?

Your hands cupped his flushed, beautiful face, a lazy smile stretching across both your lips. Sukuna leaned in, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down to your neck while his hand found its way to your breast. “I’m not on birth control anymore, you know?”

“Good.” He pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t even think about getting back on it.”

“But we can’t afford the risk, Suku—”

“I love you,” he said, his grip firm on your jaw. Everything inside you exploded. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much that I’ll take every fucking risk.”

You moaned softly as he came again, your trembling fingers brushing against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed your fingertips, a promise in every touch. “I’ll take every risk with you.”

“Fuck yeah you will.” He didn’t pull out, his eyes locked on yours. “Starting with putting a baby in you.”

You happily accepted your fate.

Sukuna pulled the trigger, shooting another police officer in the back of his head. The sound of the gunfire mixed with the blaring sirens, echoing through the flickering lights of the corridors—a devious melody composed just for him. He chuckled low, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a grin as another officer lunged out, attempting to stop him—pathetic. A single shot rang out, and the man crumpled like paper.

The path to Satoru’s office was a long one, and the bodies he left sprawled out in his wake were only a brief distraction from the task at hand. He had things to do today, after all.

Another officer stumbled into view, eyes wide, panic evident. He didn’t stand a chance. Sukuna barely glanced at him as he fired, stepping over the man as he slumped against the wall. Blood splattered his shoes, but it was hardly the worst stain on his day.

You were going to be pissed. He could practically hear the biting tone, the disappointed scowl that’d meet him the moment he finally made it to Mai’s first birthday party. Sukuna scoffed as he shot a bullet straight through a door that dared open near him, knocking down yet another obstacle.

But this was necessary. He needed to do this.

Free Toji. Kill Gojo. And then, eventually, deal with his meddling nephew. Everything would finally align, and maybe—just maybe—he could stop all this. For you. For your daughter.  

Satoru’s office was close now. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the door, the false air of authority that seemed to reek from it. He cocked his gun, steeling himself. Because when he was done here—when he’d finally finished what he’d started—he’d make it up to you.

Or so he told himself, as another officer charged and met the floor with a hole in his skull.

Sukuna didn’t bother with the doorknob. He slammed his boot into the door, sending it splintering inward with a loud crack. The office was stripped bare; Satoru’s usual pile of clutter, the irritating stench of his cologne—gone. Only the dust of where things once sat remained on the shelves and desk.

The bastard had fled.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the room. Gojo knew he was coming and had bolted like a coward hours ago. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a flick of his thumb, the small flame dancing aglow. Without a second thought, he stepped to the heavy, pretentious curtains Gojo insisted on, pressing the flame to the thick fabric. It caught quickly, embers licking up and curling black around the edges as the fire took hold, consuming Satoru’s last pathetic hold on this place.

He turned and walked out, ignoring the smoke that was already billowing into the hall. The prison alarm was still blaring, red lights flashing down the cold corridors as he made his way to the cells. Every so often, he’d pause, assessing the prisoner cowering behind bars. Rapists, pedophiles, molesters, abusers, killers of innocent lives—he moved on from them. But when he found those who didn’t quite repulse him, he took a single shot at their lock, releasing them in a stream of confused, wary freedom.

As he approached the far end of the corridor, a familiar sight greeted him—his old cell. And standing behind those hard, metal bars, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, was Toji.

“Didn’t think you’d come back to this hellhole,” Toji remarked. 

“Not for long,” Sukuna replied, levelling his gun at the lock. He fired once, the lock shattering as the cell door swung open. 

Toji stepped out of his cell, took one look around, then paused. “Hold up.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, watching as the man crouched beside a loose brick in the wall. With a wry smile, he pulled out an old, scratched-up plastic bottle with a wriggling, sickly-looking worm inside. He tapped the side of the bottle, making the creature twist and writhe. “Almost forgot my little friend here.”

Sukuna barked a short laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Alarms blared louder as they navigated the winding corridors and ran past prisoners surging toward freedom. Some guards tried to block the path, but they were quickly swept aside by Sukuna’s bullets and Toji’s fists. By the time they hit the outer gates, the entire prison was pandemonium, prisoners scattering into the open like ants from a burning nest.

Outside, a sleek, black car idled just past the gate. Uraume sat coolly behind the wheel, watching the stampede of convicts with bored detachment. As they approached, Uraume rolled down the window, glancing at them with their nose slightly crinkled.

“I could smell you two from a mile away,” they said dryly, eyes flicking to the stains of blood on their clothes. “Maybe next time, schedule a prison massacre that doesn’t fall on your daughter’s birthday?”

“Just drive,” Sukuna replied, sliding into the backseat with Toji following. Toji glanced at Uraume with a quick nod, still keeping a light hold on his bottle, the worm twisting inside.

“Welcome back to the real world, Fushiguro,” they said, starting the car as they drove off into the night.

The road stretched long and dark, winding into the depths of a thick forest. The further they drove, the thicker the trees became, their branches curving overhead to cast everything in shadows. The road narrowed into a rugged trail, overgrown and wild. Uraume navigated it deftly, until at last, the forest opened up, and they could see the soft glimmer of moonlight on the water beyond.

Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean stood their safe house—a dark brick estate against the endless stretch of water. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, the scent of salt and sea heavy in the air.

Sukuna looked at the house, then at Toji’s surprised face.

“This is where you’ve been hiding for the two years?” he asked as soon as they were out of the car. 

“Not for long if I fuck this up.” Sukuna slipped in through the garage, keeping his steps light. He had just one goal at this moment: reach the shower before you spotted the blood streaked on his clothes and the smell of gunpowder clinging to him. 

But as he shut the door, there you were, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they landed on him.

“Sukuna,” you started, an edge in your tone that he recognized all too well. “Do you have any idea what day it is? Look at you; you're a mess!” You gestured at the dark stains on his shirt and his unmistakable smirk.

Instead of trying to dodge the lecture, he listened, that faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you, soaking in each scolding word. You were the one person who never held back with him, and it made something dangerous in him soften, something in him settle. “I know, baby,” he replied, pecking your cheek. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you replied, sighing, though you couldn’t quite hide the relief in your voice. You glanced over his shoulder. “Toji, Uraume—it’s good to see you both.”

Uraume gave a slight bow, a wry smile still tugging at their lips, while Toji just gave you a quick nod.

You waved a hand, turning back to the kitchen. “Both of you boys—shower, now. I won’t have the two of you smelling like a prison while I’m trying to decorate my daughter’s cake. Go on!”

Toji gave Sukuna a knowing look and shrugged, as if to say, She’s right. Sukuna shot him a warning look, then followed up the stairs, chuckling under his breath as he imagined how you’d cornered him like this. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, cleaned up, feeling far lighter as he tugged on a fresh shirt and came downstairs, catching the scent of the dinner you’d prepared. 

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that melted your anger as he pulled you close.

“Gojo got away,” he murmured. “He knew I was coming, and he ran like the coward he is. But I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I swear it.”

You paused, looking up into his eyes, your hand settling on his cheek. “I know you will, Sukuna. But don’t miss the important things here. We’re what’s important now, not just revenge.”

The words took root in him, grounding him, but that flicker of rage still danced in his eyes. He pulled you close, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let him touch us again. I promise you that.” 

Just as you leaned in for another kiss, Sukuna heard the faint sound of your daughter stirring awake from her nap on the living room floor. Mai’s soft little whimpers broke the room’s quiet. Instinctively, he abandoned your kiss, his attention snapping to her as he practically floated over to where she was squirming in her pink dress, rubbing her tiny fists over her eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, scooping her up with all the gentleness he could muster. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and he was rewarded with that toothy little grin she’d recently mastered, one that brought an uncharacteristic softness to his entire face. He pressed a cascade of kisses on her cheeks, nose, forehead—anywhere he could reach. “Look at you, sweetheart. All dressed up for your birthday, huh? The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laughed softly from the kitchen, watching as Sukuna held her close, stepping into an impromptu waltz around the living room, his steps surprisingly skilled. She squealed in delight, her small hands reaching up to his face as he spun her around. Even Toji, who had just come down from the shower, stopped in his tracks at the sight, a rare, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Sukuna glanced up, catching Toji’s presence, and with a proud smirk said, “Toji, meet my daughter, Mai. She’s already got more spirit than most of the people you and I have met.”

Toji stepped forward, studying your daughter. He reached out a hand, and she looked at him with wide eyes, inspecting him with her natural, innocent curiosity. “She looks like trouble. Must take after her old man.” 

“Her mother, mostly,” Sukuna said in your direction, bouncing her lightly. “She’s going to have a whole world to handle, with us around.”

In the background, Uraume was setting the table, their usual precision in each movement. They threw Sukuna a blank look, brushing off their hands. “Now that the table’s set, if you’d all just take your seats, maybe we can have a peaceful birthday dinner without the talk of blood and violence for once.”

Sukuna chuckled, shooting them a dry look before turning back to his daughter. Holding Mai close, he took a seat at the head of the table with you beside him. He looked around, taking in the sight—the cake you’d just set down, the quiet chatter as Uraume and Toji exchanged comments, and his daughter babbling in his lap, still pawing at his face with sticky fingers.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt peace. 

The “Happy Birthday” song had been sung, candles blown out, cake shared, and Toji had crashed in the guest room, completely knocked out. Uraume, too, was resting in another room, finally allowing herself a few hours of sleep.

In your bed, the soft rise and fall of your daughter’s tiny breaths filled the space between you and Sukuna. She slept peacefully between you both, tiny fingers curled into fists as she dreamed. But you and Sukuna were both wide awake, eyes locked on each other in the moonlight. His hand drifted up, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“Do you remember my first letter?” you asked.

A smirk began at his lips. “You mean the diary entry about the cockroaches in your kitchen and how you thought seducing your landlord was a better solution than paying rent?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to wake your baby. He loved that laugh—the way it sounded like music only he got to hear.

“Or how no one with one functioning eye could ever be taken seriously romantically,” he added. “Debunked, by the way.”

Your laugh softened, and you looked at him with a smile that held a thousand memories. “Do you remember the last thing I wrote?”

“The part about Satanism?”

You laughed again, the sound bubbling up and melting into the dark. And as he listened, he couldn’t help but chuckle alongside, his thumb tracing along your cheek, taking in the moment like he was trying to memorise it.

You took a breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “I said I was lonely as hell, remember?” Sadness wove into your words. “And . . . I was. Back then, I thought no one could ever really understand me. Until you did.”

Sukuna shook his head. “You were never meant to be alone, baby,” he murmured. “Not then, not ever. Not while I’m here.”

You swallowed, heart catching as you looked at the life you’d built, the fragile happiness that now lay nestled between you both. “I’m just . . . scared sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m scared of losing this. Of losing you. I don’t know if I could protect what we have.”

“We’ll protect it together,” Sukuna affirmed. “Nothing will take this from us. Not while I’m still breathing.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deep, reassuring, exactly like the one he’d give you when you’d sealed your vows. When he pulled back, you met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. 

“I love you, Sukuna,” you whispered, fingers brushing his sharp jaw. “Genuinely, your wife.”

He took them and gave a kiss to the tips. “And I love you most, baby. Genuinely, your husband.” 

Moments later, your eyes drifted shut, your breathing evening out as you finally slipped into sleep. But Sukuna stayed awake, his gaze never leaving you, or your daughter. 

This was the family he’d fought and bled for, the life he’d killed to create. And yet, an unsettling undercurrent of unfinished business tugged at his nerves. But tonight, he forced it away, just for a while. 

For now, there was no room for anything but the second chance he’d been given.

Genuinely, by you.

[weneepie]

pure adoration w/ nightwing rules | m.list

note. fluff and soft stuff in delivery! love him sm i couldn't help it so there you go :) please feel free to request <3

Dick was a fool for you, and everyone knew it pretty well. You could have done absolutely anything, even the worst thing possible, he would have found a way to defend you. In his eyes, you couldn’t do anything bad. You were too perfect for that. The prettiest girl he ever saw, the smartest he ever talked to ; you had the qualities a human could have and even more. It was easy to say that Dick was putting you on a pedestal. 

To his defense, you were actually really sweet. The type of person who helps others without asking for something in return, even if you had quite your own character. You weren’t afraid to say what was wrong, and if you had to fight, then you would never step back. You were everything Dick could dream of, even if your friends saw you as a pitbull sometimes. 

Dick didn’t have the bravery to ask you out on a real date. Yes, the Nightwing himself was scared of rejection from the girl he could have died for. So he kept on inviting you to go out together but always as friends and nothing more. Sometimes, he even told you to bring other people to not make it too weird ; even if he only had eyes for you. 

This time, it was only the two of you. You were sitting in front of him in the coffee shop, your hot drink between your hands as you were talking. He wasn’t sure if he was still listening to what you were saying or if the sound of your voice was simply soothing his mind ; but his gaze didn’t leave your face for a second. His cheek was resting in the palm of his hand and his eyes were observing every detail of your face. 

Suddenly, you stopped talking and it got him out of his thoughts almost immediately. “Is something wrong?” He asked you the second after, a hint of worry in his eyes. You sighed slowly as you looked away. “Sorry, I talk too much.” You told him and he swore he never saw you like this before. Who ever told you that? Not him, that was for sure, because he could have listened to you talking forever. Dick grabbed your hand in a gentle move, stroking the back of it. 

You met his eyes again, and you felt your heart skipping a beat at the look he was giving you. Since when did he look at you with so much adoration? You were sure you never noticed it before, but you couldn’t ignore it now. “It’s never too much. Please, talk all you want. I’ll listen anyway.” The soft smile that appeared on his lips after his words could have brought the tears to your eyes if you weren’t fighting them. Your grip on his hand slightly tightened before you nodded softly. 

“Thanks Dick,” you told him, and he left a kiss on the back of your hand as an answer. It caught you off guard, and you had some trouble going back to what you were saying after that. If one thing was sure, you wouldn’t be able to forget this look in his eyes for a while. 

After that day, you noticed all the little things that Dick was doing toward you, and you felt dumb for not noticing what was going on earlier. How he was always complimenting you on what you were doing, or how he always made sure that you were feeling comfortable about everything. He kept on taking care of you without being too intrusive and it broke your heart to think that he was probably sure that his feelings weren’t mutual. 

This is why you decided to talk to him. You asked him to come over at your place, and this is how you ended up sitting on your couch together. Dick looked at you, a bit worried. He could feel that something was off, but he didn’t know what it was. “You wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and you quickly nodded, turning around to face him. 

“Listen, I’ve thought a lot. About everything, but mostly about us, and we can’t…” He didn’t let you finish, his voice going out a bit more desperate than what he thought. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry, I’ll stop. But please, please don’t leave.” He took your hands between his and you didn’t expect this reaction from him. You slowly put your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. 

“Hey, hey. Calm down, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice was so soft, like sweet music to his ears. He melted onto your touch, looking in your eyes as he waited for you to keep going with what you wanted to say. “I wanted to say that we can’t keep going like that, because I can’t stay your friend.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter but your gentle smile calmed all his worries. 

“I like more than that, Dick. And if you let me, I’d love to be more than your friend.” He was sure that he felt his heart stopping into his chest when you stopped talking. It was a dream, it couldn’t be otherwise. There was no way you were really saying those words to him. “Really..? You really want to be… my girlfriend?” He asked, and you only answered with a nod. 

You didn’t have the chance to say anything because Dick cupped your face with his hands so his lips could meet yours. It was so sweet, your lips feeling like honey against his own. When he let you go, you were quickly stuck into his embrace. He was holding you tightly, nose in your hair. “I’ll make you the happiest girl on Earth, just like you’re making me the happiest man alive.” His eyes met yours right after that, and the smile on his lips made your stomach do a flip. He really seemed to be the happiest right now. 

You sure took your sweet time to realize your own feelings, but now, you knew that nothing could make them disappear.

thank you!! hope you liked it <3

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[carlsangel]

OVERWORKED

carl grimes x reader

tags: smut, handjobs m!receiving, OVERSTIMMING.

masterlist is pinned on my page (still can’t link </3)

read ghost in the woods! (linked on masterlist)

Carl loved when you took care of him. It’s almost like making him cum was his love language. One of them, at least. He loved having you touch him in general. He knew he was incredibly lucky to have you. Not everyone gets an amazing and good looking partner who understands him in every way in the apocalypse. Anyway, something he loves the most is when you push him past his limits.

Something about the aftermath is so relieving and he feels like he’s accomplished something. Like he’s done a good job and he’s made you proud. You’ll only do it for him when he makes you feel extra loved or if he was really romantic that day. Things like that would have him ending up writhing in your bed, practically sobbing because he was so overworked.

At that point in time, he’d probably finished about five times which for him is a lot. His lap and shirt is covered in his sticky cum, he’s sweating and whimpering like crazy grabbing at you to try and make anything make sense. His brain is just so scrambled at the mix of pain and pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Mmff-please I don’t think—mmh I don’t think I can take anymore I…” He loses his words when you prod your finger and swipe at his slit. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he cums even more. A high pitched whimper falls from his lips, deep from his throat. His pawing at your shirt. “What’s wrong sweet boy?” You almost fake pout at him and wow does he find that so fucking hot.

He’s conflicted, he’s very turned on but it’s starting to hurt, although that’s not something he particularly minds. His expression falls calm after his sixth orgasm of the night. He takes his deep breaths and looks up at you while you slowly and gently keep working him at a pace that doesn’t prompt him to feel so much. “M-Maybe I can do more…please can I have more?” He asks, looking up at you with pleading eyes while shifting his hips up.

He’s still aching. His tip is his most sensitive spot and with all the attention it’s been getting it’s quite red. So you work him at his shaft, gently twisting your wrist. He was calm, letting out the soft moans until you included his tip into the mix. He’s so loud. With the noises of your moist hands around his cock and the preexisting mess all over his lap he’s close enough. But when he remembers you’re the one taking care of him and looks up at you?

He’s done for.

He finishes a few more times, making it to the ninth. He cried a good amount from the pain but he never stopped you, even when you asked. He’s sweating, he’s exhausted. “Need kisses. Can’t do any more please m’so tired..” He tells you. You look down at his lap and your own hands. Maybe he’s right.

Maybe one more.

“Please baby just one more…” You plead with a charming smile. He looks at you with his tear stricken face, unsure of what to do or say. “I promise I’ll give you kisses…just one more.” That boy will do anything for kisses. So he gives in. You give him a small break first but he’s still sensitive when you go back in with your hand. You stroke him a bit quick considering how sensitive he is but you immediately press your lips to his, giving him more pleasure to override the pain. During that time, there wasn’t a moment where his lips weren’t on yours. You basically kissed him through the pain. He smiles a tad but whimpers against your lips, occasionally moaning when your hand got to be a bit much.

Especially when he was about to cum, he had to pull away because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Mmh please—ow please let me cum I’m gonna—mmph—” He tries to keep his lips to yours as he pleads to cum for the tenth time all over your hand. You smile against his lips and pull away to tell him he can cum. So he does for the last time that night. You let go of his extremely sensitive dick and find the rag to wipe your hand off, letting him breathe it out and calm down. You’re still in his presence though. That’s all he really needs.

You look at him and smile, he tries to give one back but he’s so tired he lets his eyes fall closed and drops his head back to the pillows. “So exhausted.” He says simply. You giggle and nod, cleaning him up.

“I figured.”

a/n: yall can leave me alone now

taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @sstar-ggirl

[bomber-grl]

Rock Lee Relationship hc —✩𓏲⋆.🍵✮˚

Pairing(s): Rock Lee x Gn!Reader

Bro is down bad for you, I don’t make the rules

Yknow how he was automatically smitten with Sakura and sent her those weird kisses?

Yea well it’s you, not her

I have two ways I imagine rock Lee being when trying to get with you

He’s either bold and unapologetic about his feelings, he wants you to know how you make him feel!

Or he’s still unapologetic, just shy and more giddy if anything, just at the thought of you

Honestly I’d like to think hes a combination of both

Like at first he’s terribly direct to the point where Tenten is seriously considering giving some advice

Which she does end up doing

He ends up confessing his more than obvious feelings for you with an over dramatic blush and is honestly so sweet

He even has some flowers

You end up accepting and so commences your relationship

If you have some sort of friendship with Naruto he’d ask you if you were seriously dating “bushy brows”

💀 blud can’t even be saying anything when Sakura won’t even give him the time of day (in the anime)

The only people are aren’t really shocked at your relationship is everyone

Yea, everyone

I mean lees devotion to you before you even got together was enough.

Anyway, if you’re more of bold person whose affectionate then Lee is more than delighted

He relishes in the hugs and any sort of affection that you give him.

Honestly I can imagine him trying to be like the gigga chads and stuff 💀

Man just loves you Alr?

In front of you he’s pretty outright giddy but when you’re not looking? Down bad

He’s literally giggling about what you do and say- not exactly to anyone in particular but his teammates and guy are there to witness it anyway

Guy is supportive, tenten lowkey regrets giving him advice and Neji just wants Lee to shut up

Rock lee is lowkey always open with his affections with you

He’s always determined just in general

Which is where you come in

Honestly another possibility of how you two got together

Lee is strong, don’t get me wrong

But the “power of youth” and some flimsy leg warmers aren’t always going to keep him safe

If you’re a ninja and you’re worried about him then he just argues that you can protect him, and him you

Him protecting you is so true no matter who you are- civilian, ninja, whatnot

Literally the only way anyone could ever get to you would be over his dead cold body

Not that he’d let whoever is coming at you to even kill him in the first place

If you’re a ninja he likes to train with you

I was honestly torn between him not wanting to spar with you or him really wanting to and going all out

I’m certain he’d do the latter

You’re a ninja and you’re both trying to improve, so ofc he’d put his all into it

And if you’re not one and you’re a civilian then he’d more than happy to incorporate you into his training

He’d probably have you sit on his back while he does pushups or something similar 😭

Love wise, lee is so passionate

The moment you get together he’s legit never letting go and is seriously devoted to you

I wouldn’t even be surprised if Lee bought an engagement ring before you started even dating

He’s always bringing you gifts, food and making sure you take care of yourself

He’s very serious and determined to take care of you even if you’re fully capable

And if you try to do the same?

Flustered to the max

He gets really flustered when you kiss him too 😭

I wouldn’t be surprised if his soul almost detached the first time you did.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 – PABLO GAVI

summary. you try to forget about your crush with a certain midfielder.

warnings. switch!gavi, reader likes someone else, kind of public s3x?, & ruining friendships.

a/n. making a series based on some of my fav bad gyal songs <3!! this one is based off santa maria.

the apartment was full of people you knew yet, you felt alone. parties that the boys invited you to always ended up like this. with you alone. every time you thought you’d crossed new boundaries with the guys you were proved wrong with the way they quickly abandoned you for their other friends. at first you didn’t mind you barely knew them anyways but it started to annoy you when you realized you had started to fancy one of them.

your feelings for ferran scared you. you weren’t even sure if you liked him or if you just thought you did because of all the guys he was the one who payed attention to you the most. maybe it was because your love language was affection and every time he placed his arm around you, you couldn’t help but blush. you kept your hopes up that he would one day read your mind and would feel the same way. instead he showed up one day with a girlfriend he had apparently been dating for over a year.

you felt stupid and you still did at the current moment watching them dance together at gavi’s birthday party. you felt like an idiot for thinking that ferran actually liked you. you realized you looked creepy just staring at them so you made your way to backyard.

every time you came to gavi’s house you were always blown away by the view the young midfielder woke up to. you always knew barcelona was a beautiful city but seeing all of it from gavi’s backyard always put it into perspective for you. you’re too entranced by your confusing feelings you don’t realize someone is making their way towards you. it’s not until you’re face to face with gavi that you wipe the tears you didn’t know had formed.

“whiskey?” he offered you the bottle in his head.

“do you even drink whiskey?” you scoffed before laughing at his antics.

“oh, absolutely not. but it was a gift and who am i to say no?” he explained. “are you okay?”

you look up at him and he’s already looking at you with a caring look. it’s probably the most you’ve interacted with him and you wonder why because he seems so sweet.

“yeah-yes. you?” you tried to pretend you were fine.

“well apart from the fact that i wish i was back home rather than here? yeah, i’m fine.” he sighs.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you but it isn’t awkward. it’s quite comfortable as the two of you just stare at the view. or at least that’s what you think because you’re oblivious to the way he scans your face studying it.

“he’s an idiot you know?” he speaks up.

“who?” ferran. your brain already knows the answer.

“ferran. we may be friends but i don’t like the way he leads you on.” he answers.

“no, it’s my fault i’m an idiot for thinking that there might be something between us.” you groan.

“are you seriously blaming yourself right now?” he begins to raise his voice. “he’s treating you like property and you’re defending him.”

“i’m sorry, are you mad at me? we aren’t even close for you to be so upset about this.” you scoff at his words.

“so, i can’t look out for you because we’re not buddies? that’s so stupid.” he rolls his eyes.

he’s so dramatic.

“there’s a difference between looking out for me and being mean and right now you’re being mean.” you try your best to keep your voice down not wanting to alarm the partying inside.

“how am i being mean?” he scoffs.

“you’re yelling at me for no reason. you and i haven’t even talked alone the whole time we’ve known each other and somehow you think you know what’s best for me. why are you even here? it’s your birthday.” you yell at him.

the more you argue the more he guides you to the side of his apartment. you’re too focused on getting final say in this stupid argument you barely notice how much you’ve been walking away from him until your back hits the wall. you’re trapped between him and the wall. your breath hitches when you see the close proximity between the two of you.

“are you even listening to me?” he asks as he notices how you’ve disassociated to the conversation.

“why are you so concerned with me and ferran?” you ask him softly.

“i just-” he sighs. “you deserve better.”

“you think i don’t know that? every time i see them together it hurts and i know i should move on but i can’t.” you start crying. “i just wish i could forget him.”

the next couple of seconds are a blur but the kiss he gives you is tender and sweet. his brown eyes meet yours as he waits anxiously for your reaction. his shyness kicks in and he’s internally panicking for his actions. sure on the pitch he was some intense player that wasn’t afraid of tackling anyone but with you it was different. he had never been able to muster the confidence to speak to you but now with alcohol and anger in his system he didn’t care anymore.

“i can help you.” he whispers. “forget him.”

you look at him to see if he’s joking but he’s looking at you with such an intensity that only proves he’s not joking. you’re at a loss for words not knowing what to say or even knowing what just happened.

“that’d be mean though.” you let out softly. “i don’t want to use you.”

“i’m asking you though. i want you to use me.” he can feel his cheeks heating up.

once again you stare at him. you don’t know exactly what you’re trying to see in him maybe it’s reassurance or something else. meanwhile, gavi is praying that he didn’t just make a big fool of himself. you step closer to him analyzing his features, his brown eyes boring into yours. they were intoxicating and they were pulling you in.

you think it’s a bad idea but you kiss him anyways. the kiss is hesitant but his lips are tender and he kisses you with so much fervor. you break away from him for a split second before throwing all your morals out the window and leaning in again. this time he cups your jaw with his hands and the kiss is longer and wetter. it’s not long before you’re full on making out with your back against the side of his apartment.

his lips start trailing down your neck leaving wet kisses all over your collarbone. while your hands make their way into his hair tugging it whenever he started sucking on your sensitive skin. the music could be heard from down the street so you don’t even try to suppress your moans which gavi is thankful for. he hasn’t even touched you yet and you’re somehow screaming for him already. he won’t admit it but it definitely boosts his ego.

“gavi wait.” you plead.

“did i do something wrong? sorry, are you okay?” his eyes grow wide with worry.

“no, it’s not that.” you try to compose yourself. “will everything be back to normal if we do this?”

“i-” he starts thinking. “i don’t know but we’ve already crossed boundaries.”

he’s right. friends don’t make out with each other. you shouldn’t even be out here with him. but the feeling of his lips on yours are stronger than your morals. so, you kiss him again.

“gavi?” you ask him.

“yeah?” he pants the make out proving to be a good exercise.

“fuck me.”

“yeah, sure i can do that.” he nods.

he was so cute. how unfortunate that you fell for ferran and not him.

you made it clear that you weren’t interested in foreplay but rather just a quick fuck that would distract. you mumbled a quick maybe next time to the midfielder when he insisted on making you feel good before getting straight into it. as soon as he gets the memo he lifts the bottom of your dress all the way up to your waist. as soon as he sees your panties he can feel his sweatpants getting tighter against him.

“fuck i don’t have a condom.” he groans.

“it’s okay i’m on the pill.” you assure him.

“oh-okay.” he can feel his heart racing.

although you didn’t let him pleasure you, you dip your hand into his pants. you can feel him shiver as you grab his length and begin pumping it. you pause momentarily and take your hand out again to spit on it. gavi on the other hand is close to cumming from the sight alone but he stops himself. if he’s gonna cum it’s going to be inside of you.

“fucking hell you’re good at that.” he groans as you move your hand up and down his shaft.

you pull him into another sloppy kiss and simultaneously lead his length towards your clothed core. you begin rubbing it up and down your core teasing yourself. soon, it’s gavi who grows impatient and quickly moves your panties to the side. the two of you make eye contact before he slides in. your nails dig down his arms as he thrust inside of you filling you to the hilt. he feels so good inside of you.

the pleasure is so much for him he begins releasing profanities all at once you barely understand him.

“is this okay?” he asks as he wraps your leg around his waist so he can hit you even deeper.

“fuck, yeah. you can move now.” you struggle to say.

he starts off slow pulling all the way out before filling you up again. as you close your eyes due to the pleasure he can only admire you. you always look pretty but you somehow have reached a new level of beauty under the moonlight with his dick inside of you. he’s never had such dirty thoughts before. he’s also lucky that he’s wearing a hoodie because your nails are digging so hard into his arms.

as he fastens the pace your hold on him gets stronger not wanting to let go. he sneaks one of his hands up your throat and cups your jaw.

“you look so pretty like this. all fucked up for me.” he rasps.

“just for you gavi.” you whine.

he can’t take it anymore so he turns you around and now your chest is against the wall. he begins thrusting into you even faster than before. you’re thankful he has his arm wrapped around your waist to balance you. his lips attack your neck desperately nipping at the skin wanting to mark you up. you don’t mind it at all or the way he begins to pull on your hair. quite frankly you thought he would be vanilla in bed. so, you’re blown away by his dominance.

“pablo, i’m close.” you whine.

“me too. come on cum for me.” he assures you.

you grow tighter around him before finally letting go. the feeling causing him to chase his own climax. you collapse against his chest and his heavy pants invade your ears. the two of you stay there against the wall trying to collect your breaths. he turns you around before kissing you. the kiss is sweet and long unlike the other ones.

“fuck, how are we going to go in like this?” he pants.

“we’ll just tell them we were laying down looking at the view or the truth which is that you fucked me.” you sigh.

he carefully takes you inside with his arm around your waist to provide you balance. and sure enough as if on cue the trio consisting of pedri, ferran, and eric approach you. when they ask about your appearance the two of you simply lie not owing them any explanation. pedri and eric buy the story not looking too much into it but not the valencian. he’s somehow the only one that notices the love bites on your neck and the way gavi’s hand creeps too close to your ass as the two of you walk away.

when he comes over the next day to ask about it you simply say that you don’t know what he’s talking about. you don’t understand why he’s so angry but quite frankly you don’t care because gavi is currently hiding in your bathroom.

[blueberrymocha]

Hi ! I saw that u already made hxh headcanons on a reader who's always cold, could you do then headcanons of the main 4 (hxh) with a reader who is actually always really nice and sweet, friendly and polite? But gets absolutely feral and relentless when someone is rude or hurts their loved ones??

Ty ahead and have great day 💗💗💗

main 4 with a reader who goes feral when someone hurts their loved one

gon

✰ he adores how kind and sweet you usually are

✰ while he can get along with virtually anyone, he prefers friendlier people like you

✰ and he’d probably also rely on you to keep him in check and be the calmer one

✰ so when someone makes a rude comment towards him, he definitely doesn’t expect you to jump to his defense

✰ and if you got physical with someone, he’s even more shocked

✰ his biggest concern is stopping the disagreement, he just doesn’t want to watch you get hurt over something trivial

✰ so as much as he loves you defending him, he’ll tell you it’s not worth the trouble and to let it go

✰ don’t get me wrong though, he’s quite happy that you’re willing to do that for him in the first place

“i’m so lucky to have you by my side… but seriously where did that come from!?”

killua

✰ he finds this pretty intriguing

✰ because under normal circumstances, you’d never result to aggression/violence

✰ and yet when he’s involved… you immediately drop those hesitations to stand up for him

✰ now at first, he might jump to the conclusion that you think of him as weak

✰ so while he bandages a cut you got in the fight, he’ll bring it up

“idiot… why’d you have to get hurt for me anyway? i could’ve dealt with it on my own.”

✰ but once you explain things, he realizes he was overthinking it

✰ and when he does, he becomes the biggest cheerleader

“yeah! beat his ass y/n!”

✰ to be honest, it reminds him a lot of gon

✰ which would make him love it even more

✰ however, if you go too feral, he’ll probably get you to stop

✰ because at the end of the day, whatever the person did didn’t even matter to him

kurapika

✰ he himself would be more protective over someone sweet and kind

✰ the world can be very harsh and someone who’s polite to everyone would come across as naive to him

✰ which is also why he’s the most surprised of all when you get defensive

✰ you going crazy on someone for insulting him is just completely out of character in his mind

✰ that being said, if you can handle it yourself, he won’t stop you

✰ after all he’s the exact same way

✰ not to mention he’s honored you’d do so much for his sake

✰ if it got out of hand, he’d just tell you to lay off

✰ and once the two of you were alone, he’d make it clear he thought your actions were justified

✰ although, if something similar happened in the future, he’d remind you not to engage and try to cool you down

✰ mainly because he’d prefer you don’t get into any fights at all

leorio

✰ you’re giving him whiplash

✰ like he can’t understand how someone as sweet as you could switch up so quickly

✰ we all know that he’s no stranger to getting into arguments

✰ so if you’re merely defending him with words, he’s got no problem

✰ if you started fighting the person, he’s conflicted

✰ cause part of him is like

“punch him harder!”

✰ but his rational side will probably break up the fight

✰ if you ended up getting injured for him, he’s really flattered

✰ and of course he takes care of every injury

✰ but also “don’t do that ever again”

[goldsainz]

HIS LUCKY CHARM — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: lando is disappointed you can’t make it to his home race, only to be surprised at the end.

request: “Hi! Could you write something about Lando and reader when she surprise him on race day. Lando is sad when she told can't do this on his home race bc something important with her work but after all she appears on Sunday on track. He is more than happy with that and archive good resolut be she is his lucky charm”

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst, a probably not accurate depiction of the garage

NOTE: WHAT A RACE!! loved the lando+lewis podium, also oscar was great 🫶 anyway, to celebrate have this little thing, thank you sm for requesting bc this inspired me a lot (you kinda manifested the good result???) i added a shameless cameo in there, i just couldnt help myself! (the ending is rushed, ignore it😁)

[ word count: 2,2k ]

“I’m so sorry, Lando.” Is what you say to your boyfriend when you have to break the bad news to him.

“It’s okay.” His face breaks into a broken smile, with glossy eyes he holds your hands and brushes his thumbs up and down your palms.

“I’ll still tune in.” 

“I know.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.” 

“I know.”

You take your hands from his hold, and place them around his neck. You watch as his right posture lightly relaxes at your touch. 

“I don’t wanna miss it. You know I don’t.” 

You wish your job wasn’t as demanding as it was, that it didn’t make you fly to another country in the middle of your boyfriend’s home Grand Prix. But it does. And you’re not sure how to handle the emotional stress it inflicts on you both, and you sure hope it doesn’t affect him in a way that will mess up his race.

“And if I could make it, I would.” 

“It’s alright. It’s your job, I know it’s not your fault.” Even though Lando’s words seem reassuring, and he means them with his whole heart; you still feel guilty. 

With that, he stands up and makes his way to the kitchen of your shared apartment. You watch him leave, and with a heavy heart start to pack whatever stuff you need for your trip. It destroys you to see him sad so close to his home race, a time where he should be joyous, only worried about the car and nothing more. 

You’re not sure how you’re going to make it up to him, but you will.

Somehow.

You were being a little secretive, and you were sure Lando definitely noticed. 

Your boss and you had managed to come to an arrangement which allowed you to be present for the race. It would all be very tight in timing, but nothing that couldn’t be accomplished. It involved a lot of overworking the days before, but it was very much worth it.

You could already imagine the face Lando would make when he finally saw you. Whether he got a good result or not, there was no doubt you wanted to be there with him. 

It took a lot of care for you to arrive at the paddock almost incognito, with fans already speculating why you weren't at his home race. Thankfully no break-up rumours had surfaced, but there were a couple hurtful ones that made you want to be present even more. 

But you knew that no matter how much Lando acted like he was oblivious to what happened around him, his silly act was simply that; an act. You didn't like keeping secrets from him, it felt wrong to have to blatantly lie to him whilst everyone around him knew something he didn't. Still, it would all work out in the end.

Lando’s family had been so happy to see you in the paddock. His grandma (who adored you) hugged you as tightly as she could, quickly bidding you goodbye when you told her you had to go to the garage quickly to get prepared for the race. 

There was no doubt that the tingly feeling of nerves creeped up on you the moment you spotted all the engineers and people moving around, getting everything that needed to be set up wrapped up so the race could go smoothly. Zak was already at the pit wall, and Lando was sitting in his car ready for the formation lap to begin. 

At the garage you spotted Florence Pugh, who had a McLaren headset on. You had seen her on the paddock, but wasn't aware of the fact that she had come to the race invited by McLaren. You tried not to freak out, you saw celebrities almost everywhere when you came to races or went out with Lando. Still, the actress had a special place in your heart.

It took a little of hyping yourself up, and confidence to walk up to her, but you did. You would be sharing the garage for an hour and a half, the least you could do is socialise a little. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N.” You said to Florence watching her turn around with a smile on her face.

“Hello!” She says, greeting you like you were an old friend. “I’m Florence”

“You’re a McLaren fan?” 

“Honestly, I’m more of a Lewis fan.” She said with a laugh, keeping ehr voice just loud enough so you could hear her.

“I get that. I mean, who isn’t?” 

The conversation flowed for a little more until the race was about to start. You excused yourself and moved to an area closer to the screen, where you could watch Lando close-up. You loved being in the garage because of the different screens and the attention to their drivers, that allowed you to experience the race in different ways.

Your headset was adjusted and you were awaiting the moment where David Croft would say it’s lights out. Your knee was slightly bouncing, but you tried your best to contain the nerves. 

“It lights out and away we go!” Exclaims David Croft, his voice echoing through the garage.

You watch as Lando has a great start, and it takes about a second for him to take the lead. You hear the roar of the crowd before you can even react.

“Yes! Go Lando!” You scream, your voice doesn't make anyone flinch because everyone around you has the same reaction. It is a sight to behold, a moment you are more than grateful to see live. 

“I can’t believe it.” Someone next to you says, and you can't help but smile. 

It is no secret how badly the season started for McLaaren. You watched Lando’s smile waver more than once, his faith in the team never wavering, but still. He was rightfully let down by the performance of the adr,a dn you had to reassure him multiple times that it wasn't his fault. Because he was doing the best that he could with what he had. 

So now, seeing him get to this moment, is absolutely deserved.

A couple of laps go by and Max takes the lead for your boyfriend. There is disappointment in the atmosphere, but everyone knows that P2 is a miracle and that Lando is doing absolutely great work out there. They all know how great it would be to have him finish in that position, especially since Oscar is P3. 

Getting a podium in Silverstone would mean the world to Lando, Which is why you're worried about what will happen when they pit. Whatever strategy they choose will determine if Lando gets podium or not, and you will not pretend to really know what happens or how they come up with strategies, but you hope that they dont mess up his race because of wrong timing or choose the wrong tyres. 

As you watch his car race, you suddenly see on the screen that one of the Haas cars has come to a halt. A safety car is deployed, which means a couple of cars will choose to change tyres. The whole garage groans when Lewis’s car comes out in front of Oscar’s after he pits, now challenging Lando’s position.

It’s like you can’t breathe between those laps that Lando and Lewis battle for P2. Everyone is at the edge of their seats watching them race against the other, and you hope that this doesn't end up running both their races. The last thing anyone wants is for them to crash, because going from that position to a DNF would result in disappointment for everyone involved.

“Come on, Lando! Come on!” You scream, your palms intertwined in front of you as you watch him fight for his position. 

Thankfully, Lando manages to maintain his standing and leaves Lewis behind him for good. The hard compound tyres he was pitted for are giving him a tough time, you know that it is not ideal. Not when he could've lost his position, but with just 10 laps to go your faith in him is over the roof. 

You’re on twitter, refreshing your timeline to see if there is anything you missed. The fans are so enthusiastic, their comments make you smile. Even if there are people out there who don't like Lando, there are even more who love him and want nothing but the best for him. 

You watch as Florence is escorted out of the garage since she will be waving the flag. You watch her face light up in excitement, and in all her excitement she still waves at you. You don't waste a second in waving right back at her, turning your head right after to the screens.

The moment Lando crosses the finish line the McLaren garage erupts in cheers. You hug whoever is next to you, a teary smile pulling at your lips. You cannot help the tears that fall down your face, you usually don't get that emotional during a race, but this is his home race and he is on the podium. If there is any time to cry, this is it. 

You are almost running to the barriers, waiting for the moment that Lando steps out of his car and goes to celebrate with the team. You are wearing his merch, something that will surely stand out to him, enough that in his podium haze he will spot you. 

He goes up to the team, his helmet now long gone, and that is when he sees you.

You who told him you couldn't make it, are suddenly there. 

In a flash he moves in front of you. You cannot tell him anything because in an instant he is grabbing you, squeezing you so tight he lifts you up from the ground in excitement, you giggle right in his ear and he is sure that that is the most beautiful sound he will ever hear. He is careful not to take the barrier with him, not wanting a warning from the stewards.

After a couple seconds you pull back slightly enough to see his face. Your hands waste no time in grabbing his face and placing his lips right over  yours. Lando reacts almost immediately, melting right into the kiss, the adrenaline from the race still pumping through his veins. You can hear some cameras click, and the cheer from some people, but you ignore it.

You have to pull back eventually, not because you want to, but because there is so much to say and not enough time, not to forget the fact that he has yet to go to the podium.

“I cannot believe you’re here.” He whispers right over your lips, his sticky forehead pressed against yours.

“I couldn’t miss this.” You say, watching as his lips pull into a grin.

“I was pretty cool out there, wasn't I?” You snort at his words, separating from him but his hands never leave your waist.

“Oscar was really cool.” His grip on your waist tightens, “I haven’t properly congratulated him yet, actually.”

Someone from the team says something to him, you're sure they're telling him to wrap your conversation up because he has to go up to the podium. 

“You were great out there.” You tell him, your eyes holding all the sincerity in the world. You watch his gaze soften at your words, and he places a quick peck as he finally lets you out of his hold.

“Of course I was,” You shake your head at his smugness, “My lucky charm was here.”

You cannot help the tears that well up in your eyes at the softness of his words. You know that the celebrations and compliments are not over, but for now they are. You step back a little from the barrier, seeing as he is rushed to the podium and joins his fellow drivers on the steps. 

You smile up at him, watching as he grabs the champagne. He moves it around a little and then hits it against the ground, effectively bringing back the iconic champagne spike he does whenever he is on the podium. 

Lando sprays it everywhere, and you're almost sure a little hits you. Your theory is confirmed when he is smiling widely at you, like a kid caught doing something he should but isn't the least bit sorry. You laugh at his antics, which in turn makes him smile even wider (which you're not sure how it's even possible). 

When the champagne runs out, his gaze catches yours once more. You mouth an “I love you” to him, watching from afar as he blushes. A second after he returns the sentiment, mouthing it back and blowing you a kiss.

You thank your boss in your head for letting you be here with him, because if you hadn't been here with him you would've sure felt horrible for it. 

After all, Lando needs his lucky charm with him and you're more than happy to oblige to his wishes.

[peanutbubba]

Bepo and Chopper with reader who really likes their fur

Platonic, featuring other Heart Pirates and Straw Hats, drabble

———————————————————————

Bepo

Bepo, who really likes how you like his fur! When you first joined The Heart Pirates you were so curious about Bepo, the polar bear mink immediately interested you.

Penguin and Shachi who are honestly pretty jealous. No way they got outplayed by that mink without even being played. It should be them not him!!

Everyday you gush and fush over how cute Bepo is, Bepo always blushing and thanking you for your compliments. Bepo usually gets told that his fur is really itchy, and gross, so when you say the exact opposite he’s literally so giddy. You like his fur?? You think it’s soft? Oh he could just crush you in his arms! But not actually…

Law doesn’t really care, or so he says… He loves Bepo, don’t get him wrong, but his fur is kinda dirty at times so when he sees you so casually rub on it even though it's gross… yeah, no. Shower. Immediately. For both of you. This germaphobe literally can not handle the fact that you would touch Bepo when he’s all wet or dirty, absolutely not!

If it gets in the way of duties then Law is pretty quick to call it out, but usually it doesn’t considering that Bepo has a good grasp of when it’s time to be co-captain again.

Bepo also loves when you pet his fur or ruffle it in a respectful way, his eyes sparkling with joy. Will nuzzle into you or your hand, the petting just feels good.

You’re Bepo’s designated groomer now as well, Bepo usually does a good job grooming himself but he does have hard to reach places like his back so you usually help him. It makes the entire crew’s lives easier because now shedded, itchy, polar bear fur isn’t everywhere.

TonyTony Chopper

Chopper, who is like super duper scared of you at first. Why are you chasing him?! He didn’t do anything!

He probably thinks you’re chasing him because you think he’s food, like how Luffy chased him when they first met.

Speaking of Luffy, he probably thinks you guys are playing a game and joins you. He either starts chasing Chopper which makes him run even more, or he starts chasing you so Chopper just ends up getting away.

When you finally get your hands on him and just hug him, or compliment how soft his fur is, suddenly he’s doing a complete 180.

“Whatt, just because you say nice things doesn’t mean I’m going to like you dummy!” A chummy smile and blush on his cheeks.

Please stop chasing him though. Just ask if you want to touch his fur again, he’ll most likely say yes if he’s not busy.

Clings around you during missions, so you touch his fur a lot usually. Like, how Chopper and Law were together for a while, or how Chopper acts with Zoro. On top of your head, or on your face, or in your arms.

Also he’s terrified, please save him. Will fight if he has too, but like one look at how you fight with someone else… You’re a monster! Absolutely beast! Chopper’s your number one supporter, cheering for you while you fight. This doesn’t mean he’s weak, he’s strong, he’d just rather not fight.

Kinda sees you like a parent/older sibling. He really admires you along with Usopp, like you’re literally his hero.

—

Guys please, I literally love Bepo so much. I need to be his friend, I need like a plushie of him to hug every night 😭

Anyway, hoped you enjoyed! Pea’s out!

[sturn1olo-ffics]

- VIOLET -

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: making out, pining, profanity, use of y/n; NOT PROOFREAD

- About: Reader has a huge crush on Matt but figures the feelings weren’t mutual due to a caption of his on Instagram. That is, until he shows up to her apartment and those thoughts are turned around.

—————————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV):

I’ve liked Matt for as long as I can remember. And the only person who knows that is Nick. Partially because I told him and partially because he could tell. I mean everyone could tell, right? There were edits of us all over social media shipping us… he had to have known… right?

Wrong.

Matt was the most oblivious person I have ever met in my entire life. You could outright tell him you love him and he still wouldn’t pick up that you have a crush on him.

Matt was my best friend and we told each other everything. Well maybe not everything since I still hadn’t told him about my crush on him.

It was a chilly Friday night in October and I was scrolling through my Instagram feed. I come across a post from a super gorgeous girl that Matt follows with the caption: “The after party”

I didn’t think too much about it, it was just a normal Instagram post. That is, until I came across Matt’s recent post with the caption: “Was on Wilson and 73rd”

The Color Violet by Tory Lanez. One of my favorite songs. Why was he matching captions with this gorgeous girl on Instagram?? Why didn’t he tell me he was talking to someone?? My heart sank into the floor.

“Nick-” I called him, tears slipping out of my eyes on the other side of the phone.

“Hey y/n- what’s wrong??” He could tell by my voice that I was upset.

“Can you just come over?” I replied quickly.

“Let me ask Matt if he can take me. I’ll text you babe.” He ended the call.

I winced a little when Matt’s name left his mouth. Why was I hurting this much? Was this just a crush or something more?

(NICK’s POV):

“Matt! Can you take me to y/n’s house right now? She seems upset and wants me to come over.” I asked Matt.

“Is she okay?? What’s wrong?? What’s going on??” Matt threw way too many questions on me all at once.

“Why the fuck are you questioning so much? With the amount of care you have for her you’d think you were like in love with her or some shit.” I joked.

“Shut the fuck up Nick.” He snapped.

“Woah- Mattitude. You don’t have to get mad, it’s not like you like her or anything.” I stepped back before he could shove me.

“I-” Matt started, but everything clicked in my head.

“WOAHHH WAITTTT DO YOU LIKE HER?” I excitedly raised my voice.

“NICK SHUT UP BRO HOLY FUCK” Matt screamed at me.

“You should tell her.” I giggled.

“Tell her what?” Matt questioned.

“That you like her? What else dumb fuck?” I started grabbing my things.

“Nick it’s not like that- okay maybe it is a little bit but I’m not telling her. Go get in the car.” Matt replied.

I grabbed my stuff and headed towards the car before me and Matt got in and drove to y/n’s.

(Y/N’s POV):

I heard a car pull up and immediately knew it was Nick.

“The front door’s unlocked.” I text him.

After seeing Matt pull off, I hear Nick make his way up the stairs and down the hall to my room.

“What’s wrong? You good?” Nick questioned upon entering my room.

“Dude I literally just saw Matt have a matching Instagram caption with this really really pretty girl and I’m having an anxiety attack which I don’t even know why because it’s not like he even would like me back anyway-” Nick cut me off before I could continue.

“Ok first, breathe exercise, remember? Second, what?” Nick asked, obviously concerned.

I showed him the posts.

“Y/n, babe, her post was an entire day after his was posted. He doesn’t even know her in real life. She probably just copied his caption to make it look like that.” He laughed.

The weight on my chest instantly lifted.

“There is no way I got that worked up over a misunderstanding.” I laughed along with him.

“Also, what makes you think Matt doesn’t like you?” He started interrogating me.

“Girl be for real.” I ran my hands through my hair.

“I am being for real.” He stated.

“He just wouldn’t, I know.” I laughed.

The conversation soon drifted to what our Halloween plans were and what we should do for a Thanksgiving video, ending with Nick leaving my apartment when Laura came to pick him up for a meeting.

That conversation with Nick honestly made me feel relieved, even though it didn’t get rid of my crush on Matt, which I wish would’ve happened.

I had just finished dinner, turned the LED lights in my apartment to a violet color, and pressed play on a Halloween movie when I heard a knock at my door.

“Hey” Matt said breathlessly as I opened the door.

“Matt?” I was so confused.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It’s chilly out there.” I giggled.

We sat down on the couch before continuing the conversation.

“Y/n I’m gonna get straight to the point. I love you. It’s you. It’s always been you. It always will be. And I know you don’t feel the same but-” I didn’t even let him finished before I spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” The words fell out of my mouth and I was almost embarrassed.

“Please.” Matt responded with a deep breath.

The kiss was passionate and hungry, like we had been parted for years.

His hands made their way to my waist, guiding me closer to him, while my hands roamed his hair.

Breaking away from the kiss, I responded: “I love you too” before tilting my head and deepening it.

After a few minutes, we pulled away and leaned back on the couch.

“Please be my girlfriend.” He begged.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I responded, smiling.

“Wow these purple lights are a really good touch in your apartment.” He laughed.

“Bro I know they’re so cool.” I giggled along with him.

I think I’m gonna keep my LED lights on violet more often.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: On a real note guys I’m so tired so I’m sorry if that was ass. Anyway, thought I’d feed y’all another fic. Peace and love 😗

[what-gs-watching]

“You’re getting the fuck of a lifetime, tonight.”

OKAY friends. As we all well know by now, I am, and have been, utterly devoted to David Tennant in all forms for a long time. The man is incredible. He’s everything. He can do no wrong. 

So I was obviously out of my mind excited about Rivals. Have I read the book? No. Should I probably have joined the GOAD subreddit book club to understand what I was getting into? Yeah, absolutely. But I did not.

Y’all. Does anyone else feel personally victimized by this show? Show of hands? No? Am I just a sensitive bitch right now? Fair.

I should have expected that David Tennant’s character was a true creep because I know he likes to mix it up, that’s on me, but I did not expect to feel so many WAYS about things. Wasn’t this supposed to be like a fun, sexy romp set in the 80’s wherein I could just shake my head at British people being british?

I really came into this show knowing basically nothing. I definitely need to stop doing that.

AKA, wherein a bunch of pompous Brits living in the Cotswolds fuck each other’s wives or husbands or neighbors or WHOEVER and fight over who should control the local television rights - David Tennant’s insanely charismatic and crazy manipulative Lord Tony Baddingham, or intrepid Irish interviewer Declan O’Hara and unlikely ally MP and former olympian Rupert Campbell-Black.

LISTEN, TV, don’t make comments on the difficulties of marriage and love and other things, directly into my face. I don’t like it. It makes me squirmy, and I hate you. 

In the beginning, I really did not like Rupert and was yelling about him being a fucking creep, and I was letting Lord B off the hook for some of his weirder behavior but wooooof, what a journey those eight episodes take you on. I do appreciate character growth, or also, I guess, character…descent? Because Tony absolutely fucking unravels. 

Something about absolute power corrupting absolutely?

Also, there are a ton of characters in this thing. And I’m obviously gonna fixate on Lord B but I have to be honest, Lizzie, neighbor to the O’Hara’s and wife of one of the tv personalities at Tony’s station, is my favorite part of this entire tapestry. She writes saucy novels and she’s underappreciated in her little life and she raises her kids and has an adorable best friend relationship with Rupert (which definitely helped me soften to him) and I connected with her way more than I should have.

She tries so hard to get her husband to pay her attention. She really wants to feel like he cares about her, that he thinks she’s worthy, and he never gives it to her. BUT then she meets Freddie, awkward tech magnate, and y’all. Their adorable, bumbling interactions are everything. He runs after a train when she leaves the chapters of her new book the train! He appreciates the hell out of her, and she does the same for him, because his wife is equally neglectful. 

I don’t think I’ve ever rooted so hard for someone to have an affair in my life. She deserved to get absolutely everything she wanted. We all do. And I don’t appreciate being EXPOSED like that. 

Anyway. We obviously can’t get into every single random storyline here, so we’re gonna hit the highlights, lightning round style.

I do really like Declan, and his relationship with his wife was interesting - she’s an actress so she’s always going to be dramatic but he seemed like he knew how to handle her, and I appreciated the passion they had together. I don’t love how they ended up, you can see he really does love her, but she doesn’t want to compete against his work for his affections. I get it. But like girl, you gotta give a little? But also, that shit is hard. Their relationship seemed like one of the realest, for sure. 

What I could not bring myself to be okay with, was Taggie’s (Declan’s 20 year old daughter) feelings for Rupert. I’m sorry y’all, no. Like, sure, Rupert becomes more of a person throughout the show and I appreciate that and I get that he maybe hasn’t ever really loved anyone but I’m not gonna sign up for the love story between the two of them. And usually I’ll sign up for anything. But I just can���t, I’m not sure why. It just still feels predatory to me. 

Will I eat those words if they make a season two? I suppose we shall see.

And now, Lord B. Tony-fucking-Baddingham. Foolishly at the start I was like, maybe he does care about his very typical, dowdy english wife. She looks very salt of the earth and sure it’s surprising she’s not young and hot but man, they seem to work well together, they get each other. What’s gonna go down here? 

And then just kidding, he’s fucking Cameron Cook, the American female producer he hired to create amazing television for Corinium. Because of course he is. He does seem to think she really is brilliant, but he wants to control that and own it and he somehow convinces himself he loves her? But the man is a sociopath. And I spent like, the final three episodes yelling “GIRL, he’s gonna try to murder you, like for real tho…”

But then he does shit like dancing with her at a restaurant while crooning along to a stripped down version of “Love is a Battlefield” and I’m like, maybe he contains multitudes? But he doesn’t! There’s no fucking hesitation in any of the terrible shit he gets up to. That sweetness is purposeful. It’s gross and it’s mesmerizing. 

Bless Georgia Tennant for convincing him to take this role. I hate it, and it’s wonderful.

Also, big fucking props to the way his proper wife lays down the law in the last episode. (Side rant: early on I was like ‘does he ever fuck his wife?’ and he does, and it’s so awkward, bless her. I get it babe, I really do). But she met her fucking limit and she didn’t shy away from it. We need more women standing up for themselves. Cameron does to a degree, but Monica is the true MVP in this mess. 

I think the worst part about this show is that it ends abruptly, honestly. You don’t get a lot of closure, everything is still up in the air and there’s a serious fucking cliffhanger and now I’m just mad and weirdly turned on and again, feeling a lot of ways about things. It’s very “thanks, I hate it.” 

Let’s be real, I showed up to this thing so I could ogle David Tennant in a new way. And I definitely got that - those fucking cigars! And the suits! That gorgeous, predatory smile! But I also got a lot more. I’m infuriated and confused and I need season two immediately. 

After all, Lord B did promise that he’d continue to make television we want. And even if he’s a horrible, terrible bastard, I’m gonna believe that.

Bonkbuster indeed.

[aikuse]

ALL ROADS LEAD BACK TO YOU | 2,508 words (~20 minutes reading time). afab!reader, toxic!oliver (but not in the way you think), abandonment, degradation, complicated relationships, mentions of bisexual!oliver, nipple play, cunnilingus (reader!receiving), praising, missionary, penetrative sex (safe sex is implied), multiple orgasms, creampie, claiming if you squint

author's notes: i wrote this in a fever at like 3am and thanks to @aikuwus for the smol inspiration *dances* my poor emotionally stunted boy...how i am enraptured by you~

-> taglist: @qichun @suyacho @fuyuswifey @stunies -> join the taglist!

it’s so late.

you’re blearily blinking open your eyes as you hear your phone going off. you only have it go off for emergency contacts. who the hell is calling you at three o’clock in the morning? who would?

you don’t bother reading the caller ID. instead, you choose to pick up. because whoever it is, it’s clearly an emergency. something’s wrong. something has to be—

“hey, lovely.”

your entire body freezes like ice.

“aiku? what the fuck.”

“miss me? was thinkin’ of you.”

you rub at your eyes with the heels of your hand. “didn’t you just play a game today? what are you doing awake? it’s almost three in the morning, isn’t it?”

there’s a sigh on the other end. “maybe. yeah, okay, it is.”

there’s a tension between you two that you haven’t felt before. something he’s not saying, which is a first. your toes tap dance against the cold floor as you sit up, pushing the covers off of your body.

“are you gonna explain why you woke me up, or are you gonna just breath on the other side of the line instead?”

a choked laugh echoes through the phone. “fuck you. no, i won’t. i’m feeling sentimental. kind of shitty, too, if i’m being honest.”

you know the result from today. it was bad. a complete shitshow. bastard munchen managed to claim the win, and you know oliver is feeling the soreness. he always manages to, after all; he always thinks he runs the world, and therefore causes all the problems that the world runs into. it’s sad, honestly, seeing him so vulnerable even if he’s on the other end of the line—

“i need you.”

“what?”

he pauses, before stating his sentence again, with even more intensity.

you bark out a laugh. “really?” you comment, “you could have anyone you want, and yet you’re here barking up this tree instead. what makes you think i want you?”

you can feel his smirk through the phone. you’re being bratty; you know you are. his voice is so silky as he degrades you, your thighs clenching together.

“because nobody else would pick up the fucking phone, and you did. you need someone to take care of you, yeah? haven’t gotten fucked enough while i’ve been gone, probably. haven’t had someone rail you till your eyes roll into the back of your head, yeah? haven’t—“

“enough.” your tone is ice. he stops immediately.

“what do you want?”

“you. here. now.”

“how? you’re—“

“i’ll call a cab. i don’t care. i need you here.”

something is swelling in your chest; you don’t live far, you could probably walk to the hotel he’s at. you know which one, you shamelessly stalked it on your scrolling earlier seeing the paparazzi snipping photos in his face with the hotel’s logo blazing into the background.

it’s a bad idea. a horrible idea, really.

your shoes are already on your feet before he mentions he’s booked you a taxi. you’re out the door when he says its arrived. there’s no resistance; when oliver calls, you answer. even if you don’t want to, you settle into the plush seats of the taxi as it speeds down the road, lights flashing across the windows. even at three in the morning, there’s people wandering the streets, exiting pubs as they swing hands across shoulders and press kisses to cheeks.

you wish that was you and him. it will never be, but you can always dream.

your fist clenches. this is a bad idea. it’s always a bad idea and you do it anyway.

fuck.

you get to the hotel in record time, and you manage to breeze through the lobby. he’s not there to greet you, can’t risk someone seeing him and you. it’d ruin his playboy demeanor he’s put up so well to the press; he can’t tarnish that now, you know that. you’re used to it.

his door appears suddenly in your vision, the elevator ride completely spaced out of your mind. you don’t even get a chance to knock before you hear the latch flip and large hands grabbing you, pulling you in roughly, the door slamming behind you and your back pressing against the soft wood moments after.

you meet his gaze.

oliver has always had such an intimidating gaze. it’s like everything he sees is prey to him; an apex predator, ready for his next kill, which so happens to be you.

but there’s something else.

it’s not so obvious that you notice it immediately, but rather it shows itself as your eyes linger over his own, scanning his face before returning his stare.

“you’re sad.” it comes out as an observation, not a question. you tilt your head as you say it, feeling yourself falling into those pits of green and purple. like two twin crazed-colored planets, drawing you in under his spell, commanding you to obey and give him what he wants. it feels…good. Nice, even.

he doesn’t even deny it. “yes.”

you cup his cheeks; he hasn’t shaved in a few months, bristle covering his skin, close to his shitty mustache you always make fun of him for. “what do you need?”

“you. everywhere.”

you nod. “okay.”

your clothes come off so quickly that you may as well have not worn any of it, your back slamming into the mattress as he climbs on top of you. he’s dressed in nothing but boxers, fully prepared for you, his cock straining against the fabric as he grinds against you, lips crushed to your own. you can feel it against your leg; and the burn in your stomach seems to match his fervor.

kissing oliver is like a competition; almost everything about sex is, to him, but this was another level of passion. he’s oddly gentle, not as aggressive as he usually is, as if he’s drinking in your taste. his tongue slides into your mouth, licking along your teeth, a moan spilling from your throat as his hands move to wrap around your waist, holding you to the bed. pinning you beneath him.

“god, you taste fucking delicious,” he rasps into your mouth. you can’t help but feel a sense of pride flip in your stomach as you feel his grinding motions become steadily more erratic, needing to be inside of you. like he’s holding himself back. “i brushed my teeth,” you say simply, “thought you wouldn’t call.”

he doesn’t miss a beat. “you should’ve expected this.”

“should i? usually you need someone else—“

“no.”

you pause, then, and he moves a hair away from you so you can look at him again. the expression on his face catches you completely off guard; it’s vulnerable.

“fuck, i—i always think of you, you know?” he begins, and you let him pepper kisses across your neck as he does so, his voice so sweet in your ears. you have a hard time believing him, but for tonight, you let him ramble. you let him say whatever he wants; and tomorrow, you can do damage control. you can pick up the pieces then as you always do. because as much of a fucking ass that oliver is, you do love him.

it’s a fated connection. a tragic one.

“i always think of you instead. whenever i’m with someone else, it’s never them i see. it’s you.” he reaches your nipple, tongue swirling around it, your chest curving to meet his mouth.

“you’re so perfect. i can’t—i can’t get enough. i will never be able to have enough.”

you hum. any addition from you will ruin the moment; will make him think about what he’s saying, will make him backtrack and treat you like he usually does; like a hole he needs to fuck into to feel relief. just for tonight, you add nothing. no quips, no bratty replies, no retorts. you simply let him take what he needs.

he carries on downwards, pulling your underwear off as he follows it with his lips, open mouthed kisses and nips causing your body to curve and twist in his grip. you can’t help the noises you’re making now; they’re filthy. the way he is able to elicit the exact reactions he needs from you is sickening; there’s too much time spent together between you both, too much time with his head spent between your legs and vice versa.

at least it seems like he hasn’t gotten tired of it. yet.

“look at you,” you hear him say, craning your neck to look at him. he’s staring at your pussy, drenched already from the turmoil that is running through your veins like fire, needing him so badly—

and then he’s licking, sucking, flicking his tongue against your clit and massaging your walls with fat fingers. he’s groaning, rutting against the mattress to get some sort of friction on his end as he drinks you in, pressing every button that makes you see white as you give a shout. “yeah, come for me,” you hear him growl, fingers pumping as you watch his tongue flick against you quicker than you can register. your thighs clamp around his head, your own falling to the mattress, wriggling underneath him.

“o-oliver—“

“fuck, keep coming, keep letting me taste you. please, keep letting me, i need it.”

he sounds like he’s referring to something else he needs, but the begging only makes you gush harder around him, your eyes screwed completely shut as you shudder, every wave racing through your system like a natural disaster. it’s truly incredible how he knows exactly where to press to get you to shudder around him; you’ve spent too much time together—

and then he’s pulling his pants down, not turning you onto your stomach like he normally does, his cock slapping his stomach as he pushes inside with a groan. he bends over you, your eyes finally being able to focus for a moment on him and breath stuttering in your chest as you see him looking at you. so deeply that you almost believe that it’s genuine.

his large hands entwine with your own on either side of your head as he rocks inside of you, your walls fluttering around him. his lips brush against your neck, then your collarbone, moving up to nip at your ear and back down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses across your chest. his voice is so soft, so gentle like his thrusts; weaseling their way into your brain and your core without any kind of restraint.

“love how you wrap around me, lovely,” you hear him drawl, somehow being able to keep his composure even as his body betrays him, picking up speed as he speaks, “fuck, you’re so good. you’re so good for me, so good—“

then he releases your hands, moving his own to grip your waist as his composure suddenly snaps. you feel it, just as aggressively as you feel another orgasm slam into you without warning. your eyes go wide, unfocused on everything but his stare as he slams into you. “yeah, fuck, give it to me,” you hear him growl, and there.

there’s the oliver you know. not caring about how hard he’s slamming into you, not caring about your comfort any more. it’s all about him now, and your soaking pussy is happy to milk him dry as it grips him like a vice, cries of his name falling from your lips as you feel him spill into you, joining you in ecstasy. “gonna fill you up so good,” he says, his voice raspy and shaky but laced with lust, “make y’feel so full of me. so full you can’t get me outta ya.”

you’re on the brink of passing out now, the amount of pleasure that’s assaulted your senses all too much to deal with. you know he knows, too; it’s always been that way, you not being able to last through his climax as he comes down, your chest pressing against his own as he heaves in air. the last thing you feel is his hands gripping your own again, a bristled kiss pressed against your sweaty neck. it feels…

it feels like home.

like a home you can never have.

sunlight streams in through the window as your eyes crack open. the pale orange light bastes the room in a pretty glow, pretty enough for you to simply bask in it and ignore the soreness of every muscle in your body. that’s how it was with oliver; he never left you feeling untouched, for better or worse.

you realize as you bury your face into the pillow again, that he’s gone.

there’s a faint warmth next to you, but it’s steadily evaporating as you turn over. the indent from where he was is still there, so he must have left recently, within the half hour at least. your hand reaches out weakly to press against the covers, as if doing so will telepathically remind him of what he left behind.

again, this is how it was with oliver. he didn’t stick around.

you manage to grab your phone that has been placed on the side table. you don’t recall putting it there yourself, and you know it’s his doing. that’s the ways he displays affection, something you believed he wasn’t capable of; you just weren’t looking hard enough. at least, that’s what you tell yourself; it’s easier that way.

there’s a few unread texts that you see appear; one is from sendo asking if you had a good night with a cheeky winking face, some others from friends asking where you are. then there’s a single one from oliver, which you’re afraid to open. what he said to you last night, on the phone and when you were here; your thighs twitch as you recall it. all honeyed words, you know it.

you open the thread anyway.

oli: had to leave early to catch the bus. told hotel staff to not disturb u.

you sit with that for a moment. do you respond? do you bother? why would you, it’s not like anything you say will change anything.

your fingers move before you can put your phone down. before you can make a stupid mistake.

thank you.

the three dots appear almost immediately.

oli: i’m sorry.

tears prick at your eyes. the first time he apologizes, and it’s after abandoning you for the upteenth time. all he does is uses you and leaves; but you know this well. you’re married to it in a sense. you can’t let him go, not when he’s dealing with so much. you need to be there for him even if it tears you apart, even if he pushes you away and discards you like you meant nothing to him.

because you know you mean something to him. he wouldn’t have called you if you didn’t. that could be a delusion, but you cling onto it anyway. it’s the only thing that’ll keep you from falling apart.

you text back, and he leaves you on read.

i know.

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @pixelcafe-network @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© aikuse 2023-2024

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MICHAEL KAISER x FEM READER

Kaiser’s always there for you after a failed date. Maybe this time he has something better than advice. 

wc — 800

tags — friends to lovers, confession

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“The man I’m dating is a flat earther.” 

Kaiser wordlessly pushes his drink towards you in a show of support. You down the glass, relishing the burn as it goes down. It’s wet and cold with condensation, and not an altogether terrible cure to alleviate your headache. 

“Any other conspiracy theories he believes in? Maybe tinfoil hats?”

“Kaiser - this is not helping.”

This is a weekly ritual that’s the only constant in your life. You switch jobs often. Shitty boyfriends come and go. But Kaiser and Lunar Love, your favorite local bar, are always the way you end your Friday nights. 

You don’t know when the tradition started, but it probably happened sometime between meeting Kaiser when you were working a low-level job for the JPN Football Association and crying into his rock hard shoulder after your sixth failed first date in a row. 

Bad things happen during the week. You dump them on Kaiser on Fridays. That’s just how it goes. 

You would feel bad, but Kaiser’s really, really terrible at comforting people anyway. Not only is he too muscular to be a good pillow - you still wince recalling how sore your neck had been the morning after you slept on his shoulder - but even his attempts at making you feel better with words sucks. 

Guy talked about his ex the whole time? 

“Ditch him and leave with the breadsticks.” 

It doesn’t matter if you tell him that’s bad advice. Kaiser doesn’t care about normal benchmarks for propriety and manners and social standards. He just does whatever he wants whenever he wants, and he expects you to follow suit. 

When your boyfriend of two months had ditched you to watch Kaiser’s football match with his friends, Kaiser had laughed himself silly while you complained to him on the phone later. 

“Quit football,” you tell him. 

“What, so your lame boyfriend will pay more attention to you? No way!” 

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” you groan.

“It’s not your fault the men you date are assholes - well no, it kind of is. Stop dating assholes, I guess.” 

“Don’t blame the victim!” 

But then there was the time the man you were meeting for a first date had tried to get you to join his cult. 

You had texted Kaiser an SOS under the table as the man and the two other cult recruiters he brought with him (who brings plus ones, much less plus twos to a date?) tried to convince you to give up the life of ‘sin’ you were leading. 

You should’ve known he was too hot to be true. That’s how they get you, you think ruefully. Now you’re stuck at this table trying to make excuses for living a life of debauchery when- 

“Excuse me,” Kaiser says. “What are you doing with my girlfriend?” 

Your head snaps up. 

“What are you doing?” You mouth at him. 

You look at the cultists. He’s making it worse. Oh, he’s definitely making it worse. One girl has her hand raised to her mouth in shock and horror. Another is actively praying for god to deliver you from evil. 

“Come on, honey,” he says, tugging you up from your seat. “It’s time to go home.” 

“Miss,” says the original cultist who asked you on the date. He really is cute, with a sweet and earnest face that makes you want to coo over him if he wasn’t actively trying to indoctrinate you. “If you leave now, your soul will never be saved.” 

Kaiser makes a face like he’s thinking about doing something very inappropriate for fun, and that’s when you rush out of there. Once you’re on the sidewalk, you slow down, walking hand in hand as you head towards his car. He swings your arm a little. 

“One day,” he sighs, “I’m not going to be around to rescue you.” 

“No you won’t,” you tell him with a grin. “You love me too much for that.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a rueful smile as he opens the passenger door for you. “I do.” 

That’s how you know Kaiser really does care about you. He cared enough to show up and rescue you. Maybe not the best way he could’ve done it, but still. 

That and the fact that he wouldn’t be paying for twenty dollar cocktails just to hear you whine about your love life if he didn’t care about you, but he’s just not great at showing that love. 

Case in point: “Just give up on your shitty dating life,” Kaiser says, rolling his eyes. 

“Excuse me?” You say, outraged. “It’s not like people are lining up to date me, mister!” 

“Why do you need a line?” He looks annoyed. “I’m right here. I’ve been here all along.” 

Bonus: Kaiser’s name in his contacts for you is “miss unlucky-in-love”. When you start dating, he changes it to “lucky” and forces you to change his to “good luck charm.”

[hamiltonaf]

Hi! I’m so excited you’ve open your requests, can I ask one with Lewis where you work with Toto and are like his little girl, so you get along and are close.

You’ve been secretly in love with him for a while so you try to help and been there for him now that Merc is struggling with the car, so after one race weekend like this one (😪) you try to confort him but he takes his anger on you.

The following week at the factory you’re distant and he starts to miss you…

The end is on you.

Thanks 🙌🏾❤️

Confession | Lewis Hamilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Slight angst but fluff

A/N: Hi loves ! Slowly recovering from being ill for over a week so bare with me. Thanks anon for requesting. Hope you babes enjoy. Requests are still open .xx

The Monza race weekend was here… is it hypocritical of me to say it’s one of my favourites if I’m working for Mercedes ? You can’t deny that the vibe and energy of tifosi doesn’t hype you up even if you’re not a fan of Ferrari.

I couldn’t wait to start posting content for the weekend, I mean it is my job anyway - social media admin. It’s a fun job, not gonna lie. I think it’s quite evident that I spend most of my time posting about Lewis’s paddock outfits than anything Mercedes related. For starters, it’s valid to post Lewis because he’s obviously part of the team and secondly, who isn’t waiting to see the Sir Lewis Hamilton fashion week every race weekend ? Am I right..

I think trying to hide my crush or love should I say for Lewis isn’t working considering that some fans have even commented that it’s ‘quite obvious that admin has a soft spot for Lew’. I’m really exposing myself on main. As extroverted as I am, I can’t help but get shy and quite around Lewis, still bold enough to compliment his outfits everyday on race weekends - if I don’t comment, it’s obvious that something is wrong.

I’d like to think that Lewis and I are somewhat best friends considering we spend more time off-track than on-track. However, I’m starting to re-think that seeing how he’s keeping his distance from me. I eventually just had to work up a nerve to just march over to him and ask him what’s wrong. He finished his interviews and he came back into the hospitality. I approached him with a soft smile, “Hey, are you okay ?” I asked softly. “I’m fine” he abruptly said and brushed my shoulder with his as he walked past. I followed behind him and waited till we were in the hallway to speak up again. “I know something is on your mind. You know you can talk to me Lew, I’m always here for you” I said softly.

“(Y/N) I really couldn’t care to talk to you right now ! Can you just leave me alone ?” He said harshly. Thank god no one was around because I probably would’ve died of embarrassment. My smile fell and I felt a pain in my chest. “Sorry” I said lowly and walked away in the opposite direction.

I avoided him for the rest of the day as he asked. This was the first time he ever raised his voice at me and I was quite hurt to say the least. Usually post-race we’d meet up and go out for dinner or just spend the evening talking in either one of our rooms. I didn’t bother waiting for him after I stuck around for the team briefing, I went straight to the hotel and I was ready to go back to England. So much for thinking we could celebrate him racing for 2 more years.

Luckily I didn’t have to change my flight since I was already scheduled to leave for my flight back home at 8PM. Once I was back home and to myself, I noticed Lewis had posted on his Instagram. Low-key saddened to not receive a message from him yet. I guess it’s a sign I need to get out of my deluded space and get over him.

At a time like this not gonna lie that I hated my job because so much for trying to get over Lewis, posting about him on the teams social media is part of the job.

It’s Wednesday and we have a team meeting at the factory. I really wish I could sit this one out but unfortunately I can’t. I smiled at all the familiar faces as I clocked in and was so relieved to see Toto. “Ahh (Y/N) ! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, you’ve been distant lately” he said as he pulled me in for a hug. “Toto, it’s only been 3 days since the race” I reminded him. “I know, but usually you’re always around after the team briefing on Sundays and even on off days, I hear from you. Everything okay ?” He asked concerned as he had an arm around my shoulder and lead the way.

“Oh yeah everything’s fine, the travelling and the energy from Monza just drained me this weekend. I just needed to de-stress these past few days” I sighed. “Of course, I suggest maybe taking an early holiday to Singapore” he suggested. “Sounds good to me, why don’t you and Susie join me ?” “I’ll let her know and get back to you on that” he smiled as he pats my back. Almost as if on cue, Lewis approached us. “You finally made it” Toto joked. “Sorry I’m late, uncle duties” he shrugged.

I felt so uncomfortable, I wish I could’ve been swallowed up into a hole. “No worries, (Y/N) kept me company” he smiled at me. I glanced up at Toto before stealing a glance at Lewis who was already looking at me with a soft smile.

“Oh, would you look at that, George is here ! Let me just go greet him” I excused myself and walked over to George. “Hey you !” I cheerfully said. “(Y/N/N) ! So good to see you. Carmen and I missed you on Sunday” he said as he then pulled me in for a hug. “Aww sorry I had to take off suddenly, had some things to sort at home” I sighed. “Ahh well we always have the next race weekend” he suggested. “Yeah of course. How’s my bestie doing..where is she ?” I asked. I could literally feel a pair of eyes burning at the back of my head. “She’s at home. You should stop by later if you have time” he smiled. “Aww that’s sweet. Thanks for the offer, I’ll try” I smiled back and just then we were disrupted to gather everyone for the factory meeting.

I don’t know why my brain told me to look back…and I actually did. Of course, it’s Lewis looking right at me. I ignored him and walked past him with George by my side.

After the factory meeting, both George and Lewis practiced ahead of Singapore on the simulator. Our team photographer, Steve, had then sent me the pictures he took for today for me to post onto the team socials. I was in my own cubicle, organising posts and captions until I heard a “hey !” from behind me. “Heyy !” I enthusiastically replied. I turned around on my chair to be faced with Lewis.

“Oh. It’s you” I said as my smile dropped. “Ahh you’re never this disappointed to see me and you’re so distant lately” he said causally. “Are you forgetting what you told me on Sunday ? You said and I quote I couldn’t care to talk to you right now, leave me alone !” I whisper yelled. “Can we talk somewhere more private ?” He motioned to the room a few metres away. I rolled my eyes and followed behind him. “Look (Y/N/N)..I’m really sorry for the way I acted. It was immature and uncalled for. I should’ve never taken my anger out on you... It’s unfortunate that I hurt those that I love and care for, you deserve better” he said as he took a step closer and held my hands in his.

I sighed, “Lew, it’s okay.. I get it. It’s normal to get upset, no one is expected to be happy all the time. You had a bad race, and it is what it is…you’re forgiven” “Those words just made my day. I didn’t know how to message you because I felt bad, and I needed to see you in person to get everything off my chest” he cleared his throat and had a more serious expression. “You made me realise a lot in these few days we were apart… I’m in denial about my feelings” he huffed. “Okay ? Lew I’m not getting you” I raised a brow in confusion. “Life isn’t complete without you in it. Not hearing your laugh or seeing you and that beautiful smile that lights up the room made me realise what I’m missing… I’m falling in love with you (Y/N)” he softly said with a smile.

My heart was racing. I could feel my hands getting clammy. I was at a loss for words. “Please say something” he softly said. “I’m sorry I’m just speechless. This is so surreal. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been in denial about my feelings for a while, I tried to convince myself that the less I see you then the better… but I couldn’t. You made it so hard for me when you look so fine, and I have to post pictures of you -“ I rambled. “Did you just call me fine ?” He smirked and raised a brow. “Did I ? Oh my god. I- ugh you’re making this hard” I pouted as I noticed his eyes went from making eye contact to subtly switching to my lips.

I didn’t even have time to realise what was going on until I felt the butterflies. He cupped my cheek and placed his lips on mine. I kissed back and placed a hand around his neck to pull closer. “Lewis, have you seen-“ the door burst opened by George. I broke away and felt embarrassed by getting caught in the act. “Found her. Uhm sorry to interrupt, was going to ask if you’re coming over (Y/N/N) but seems like you already have plans” George winked. “Righttt see yourself out mate” Lewis motioned to the door. “Lew !” I playfully hit his chest. “See you love birds around” George said lastly before leaving. Momentarily, Lewis and I turned to look at each other. “So, your place or mine ?” He smirked

[mydarlingclaudia]

ENTER THE SURVIVAL HORROR…

OCTOBER FIC PLANS 𓉸

some fics I will be posting in October will contain dark content or will be dead dove (given I’ve never really written for either subject so this is new territory for me) but two of the fics I’m going to write are based on or inspired by horror movies and I’ll be writing both Chris and Leon!

also post dates and descriptions may change a tiny bit (though not likely!!) because I have actually only finished one of these fics, but if I do change anything I'll reblog this post!!

coming soon ⟢

taste no evil inspired by… THE VVITCH (10/30/24) -> Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

it's just you and your husband out in the woods. oh, and whatever is living among the trees. you think it's some beastly animal, Leon knows it's witches. but he can't tell you that, you'd freak out, insist on moving closer to town or even further away from where you already lived. Leon can keep you safe, he knows he can, why must you be so paranoid all the time? it doesn't help his case when your animals start being picked off and you start seeing things more clearly. it only ends badly for the both of you.

established relationship, tiny bit of fluff, gore, animal death, I make shit up about witches, cannibalism, major character death, au, fem!reader, re4r!Leon

how much blood would you shed to survive? based on… SAW (10/18/24) -> Chris Redfield x fem!reader

cheating doesn't make you a bad person, it's not like you were even married to the guy, Chris didn't even try to stop you from hitting on him, anyway. maybe getting romantically involved with your coworker wasn't the best decision you've made, but why should anyone else care? you don't let your relationship with him get in the way of your work, all you really do is help each other try to track down the murderer running through Raccoon City, how were you supposed to know said murderer would be your boss? and how were you supposed to know that you'd wake up in one of these traps one morning with Chris getting there surprisingly fast to help you escape?

established relationship, gore, mentions of infidelity, au, fem!reader, re5!Chris

she’s demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight inspired by… IN MY ROOM (10/10/24) -> Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

a college kid with a social life that's almost non-existent figures the dead girl that comes to his room every night is his girlfriend, some say that's a bad thing, he says it's everything he could wish for. who cares, anyway? it's not hurting anyone! well, not yet, at least. there's an endless list of things he'd do for you, you don't even have to ask. but why won't you come back after he takes care of a problem that would have torn you away from him? you love him, right?

not-really established relationship (idk how to explain it), a bit suggestive, Leon is kinda gross, necrophilia, gore, au, fem!reader, re2r!Leon

mouthful of love (10/2/24) -> Chris Redfield x fem!reader

mission gone wrong, the rest of your team had already been killed, so when you end up dying in that same mission it only makes things worse. but Chris can’t just leave you, right? no, that would be cruel, but he can’t really drag around a dead body with him either. who’s gonna know if he took a few bites out of you just to keep you with him? the place had already been crawling with monsters, it wouldn’t be a totally crazy thing to find on a corpse.

established relationship, major character death, gore, cannibalism, fem!reader, anywhere post re1 Chris

I will be using dark content and dead dove for tags so you’ll be able to filter out these fics. I don’t really expect anyone to give a shit about this but for those of you who do wanna read these thank you and happy halloween <3 I might also be posting extras if I find the time and feel like it, those are also probably going to be more cutesy fall fics sooooo