#have i talked about his signature i love his signature

[maugustiee]

“Don’t Get Cute, Baby.”

Smoke x blk reader

She could always tell when he was about to leavel.

It’d be subtle. He’d start locking eyes a little longer, holding her a little tighter. The touches didn’t disappear—they just got longer. Like he was saying sorry with not words but actions.

Marie hated it. Hated how he never said “I’m going.” He’d just disappear. No note, no message, no word. Three damn days this time. Three. No word. Nothing.

So, she waited. Nurtured the plants. Lit her incense. Curled her hair. Prayed. Then prayed harder. The last two nights she slept with one of his shirts, burying her face in it when she cried quiet tears she’d never admit to.

She wasn’t needy. She was devoted.

But by the time she heard his key turn in the lock, her hurt turned to anger and it had already settled in.

She didn’t get up from the couch. Didn’t turn down the music. Didn’t even glance his way.

Let him feel the quiet.

Let him earn his way back in.

“Elijah,” she said, finally, her tone like honey with a blade in it. “Three days?”

He paused in the doorway. She didn’t have to look at him to know how he was standing: tall, shoulders loose, like the devil never touched him. He’d probably just come from wherever he went when he was being ‘Smoke’ instead of her Elijah.

“Had some business,” he said.

Marie turned her head now, real slow. “You got fingers, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Watch it Marie, you know I have to handle business”

“It don’t take nothin’ to let me know you still alive.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You got time for all that shadow business but not even a text?”

He stepped further in, dropping his jacket on the arm of the couch.

“You gettin’ worked up over nothin’.”

“Oh, so I’m dramatic now?”

He looked at her, that signature calm settling behind his eyes. “I ain’t say all that. But you trippin.”

Something in her snapped.

“I’m trippin because I wanna know if my man is alive?.” She stood now, the scarf falling from her shoulder, curls bouncing with every word. “You walk in here like I’m supposed to open my arms and kiss you and forget that I was out my mind thinkin’ maybe you were dead. That somebody finally got the drop on you. That you weren’t comin’ back.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Calm. Dangerous.

And maybe that’s what did it.

“I don’t wait around for no man like I don’t got nothin’ else goin’ for me. I chose to be here. Chose you. But if this is how it’s gon’ be—”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Because Elijah crossed the room in three slow steps, and suddenly she was staring up at him, chest rising and falling, heart pounding. And his hand came up—not rough, not soft, but firm—gripping her jaw just enough to stop her in her tracks.

“You done?” he said, low.

Her breath caught. She blinked.

He leaned in, his voice brushing against her ear like silk. “You wanna be mad, be mad. I get it. But don’t you ever raise your tone at me like that again.”

She shivered.

“We talk, Marie. You mad? You tell me. But don’t get cute with me. You forget who you talkin’ to? I’m not gonna argue with you, you say you want me to check in that’s what I’ll do.”

His thumb dragged along her bottom lip, slow. She felt herself melt, hated it, loved it.

“Say what you need to say. But keep it real. You start actin’ brand new, we gon’ have a different kind of night.”

Marie looked up at him. The tears she fought were close, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“I just missed you,” she whispered.

His expression softened, only a little.

“I know,” he said. “But don’t let that turn into you talkin’ reckless. You too good for that.”

He kissed her—deep and slow and anchoring. She gripped the hem of his shirt, grounding herself in his presence.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “You got a smart mouth, baby. I let it slide ‘cause you soft everywhere else. But don’t push it.”

“I wasn’t tryna be smart,” she said, quietly. “I concerned.”

That got him.

He wrapped her up in his arms, tight, like he was trying to erase the space between them. She curled into him, fists pressed against his chest.

“I’ll do better,” he murmured into her curls. “But don’t ever think I ain’t comin’ back to you.”

She sniffed. “You promise?”

Elijah pulled back just enough to look in her eyes.

“I don’t promise. I prove.”

And somehow, Marie knew—that was the closest he ever came to saying “I love you.”

[telamonisms]

Oughh I love the way you write chance, can I request a fluff oneshot of reader accidentally falling asleep ontop of chance and he just quietly panic (still trying to get used to the touch) but also not wanting to wake them up.. I hope it's not too much to ask for 🥲

✦My first request of this batch and it's a Chance one, I had to ask Telamon to momentarily gift me with a tail just so I could wag it upon reading this.

✦BABY STEPS✦

You and Chance had been dating for around four months now and things were moving at a snail's pace between you both. You weren't bothered by it however, more than happy to allow Chance to mark the pace and take all the time they needed.

The rounds for the day had already ended, dinner had already been prepared and eaten, there had been a coulple of rounds of board games in which everyone participated before people started retiring to their rooms or leaving to do something else.

Between thouse people, you and Chance.

It had only been very recently, a coulple of weeks ago, that Chance finally allowed you to spend time with him in his room and so, tonight after quickly fetching a book to read from your own room, you followed Chance as he allowed you into his room.

Finding a comfy spot on his bed you sat down, the atmosphere calm on your part. On his, you knew that he was monitoring your every move even with his signature shades fully hiding his eyes.

You don't blame him. You don't quite have all the details, he won't tell you just yet, at most you can assume from what little he's told you that he suffered a grave betrayal that left him with such huge trust issues.

Chance attempts to hide his nerves by making small talk with you as he too sits down on the bed and begins to clean and care for his flintlock.

They talk about the rounds of that day, bragging about how they hit all their shots and how Lady Luck had been on their side that day. You know itXs not their typical, honest bragging, but the one they use to cover up the shakiness on their voice. You don't mention it and instead shower them in praise.

Eventually they finish their routine clean and care of their flintlock, loading it before tucking it safely somewhere within their person, ready for use should it be needed. Once more, you don't fault them. They finally ask about your book, flipping their coin, not to gamble but to soothe their own nerves. You tell them it's a slice of life, you'd never had too big of an interest for them but after finding yourself in this realm, you used them as a means of coping somewhat.

He gives it a light skim with his eyes, deciding to instead keep flipping his coin. You yawn and get yourself into a comfier position in bed, he hides his flinch, but his coin flips slow down for a bit until after you settle down again.

You weren't yet allowed to cuddle him, you'd only just moved on from locking pinkies to actually holding hands. Still you wouldn't fault him.

The time passes in silence as you enjoy your book and he flips his coin, just a bit less vigilant. At some point he'd moved posotions, sitting under the covers, letting you know you could do so too after he saw you slightly shivering but still not joining him in the warmth. Another yawn, your eyes felt heavy and you were having trouble reading, needing to go over the same sentence multiple times to fully process it.

Flip, flip, flip, yawn, flip, flip, flip, yawn flip, flip- Chance's coin fell off his grasp as he suddently felt a weight over his side, hand immediatly reaching for his flintlock, only pausing as he saw your book slip from your grasp and looked at your sleeping face.

His shoulders were tense, he stared you down with deer in the headlights eyes, only after your slow breathing confirmed to him that you were in fact asleep and not faking did he let go of his flintlock.

He was panicking really, his breathing shaky and quickened and his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, the only reason he wasn't shaking was because of how tense they were.

Weighting down their options, they knew they could wake you up and you wouldn't be mad at them, they knew the only thing that'd come out of your mouth would be rapid fire apologies.

Yet they also didn't want to wake you up, today had been exausting for you with the rounds, all the luck he had, was flipped as bad luck for you, getting constantly targeted by the killers, being kept on far too many chases.

Eventually they ever so gently pulled you to his chest, fully laying down with you on top of him, he was sure that his hammering heartbeat would make it into your dreams. He could only hope it wouldn't turn them unpleasant.

After taking the book, placing a bookmark on it and letting it rest on his nightstand, he turned off the lights, wishing you a good night and some sweet dreams.

Chance did not sleep that night but he thinks he might at least allow you to lean on him next time.

✦First request of the day finished, thank you for sending this lovely prompt anon. I deeply enjoyed working on it and I hope it is to your liking.

[sjyuns]

OUT OF MY LEAGUE ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! summer’s here and so is jake’s chance to finally muster up enough courage to talk to you — the prettiest lifeguard he’s even laid his eyes on. only problem? jake’s too awkward and unlucky, but fortunately that’s exactly your type.

OR IN WHICH! jake tries a multitude of things for the first time in hopes of gaining your heart

GENRE! loser nerd!jake x lifeguard fem!reader, down bad! jake, simp behaviour, mutual pining, fluff, humour, first love, strangers to friends to lovers

WORDCOUNT! 12.0k

CAUTION! drowning, reader wears a revealing swimsuit, jake gets a boner, boobs, jake is like geeky to the point where you’d get tired of his thoughts, sexual jokes, one joke about being gay (happy pride month)

MIKAELA’S! thought of a baywatch au, but got carried away and wrote something totally different... going to be one of my last few fics before i go on hiatus cause of exams so i hope you enjoy!! i might write some drabbles/sequel based on this jake☺️ btw i've never been to miami so hahaha… sorry NOT PROOFREAD! | collection

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

Jake can’t swim. Maybe that’s really the least of his problems right now since he’s already chin deep into the trenches of the vast ocean gasping for a catch of precious air to fill his screaming lungs.

And he really should be panicking because drifting metres away from the coast of Miami's sandy beach is wrong — at least that’s what you had said to the two ten year olds you had just saved from the ocean last week. 

Not that Jake was listening or that he was following you around the beach: no he’d never, he was just being a good citizen. Yeah, that’s what he’s telling himself.

Because Jake Sim was anything but a sucker for pretty lifeguards in red swimsuits who looked like they could solve all his problems with a kiss. With hair that swayed like chimes as sea salt sprayed you, a goddess-like smile as you sauntered around the beach as if it was your home. Skin that glowed under the sweltering heat of summer, you looked as if you were from a different dimension altogether, and Jake wonders if you’re real, if he’s really here, watching you.

Okay, so maybe Jake was watching. Really intensely. But you would never know that because everytime you came so close as to look at his vicinity, he’d hide his face behind his textbook — right, his coveted quantum physics textbook he brings to the beach, his idea of a good beach read. 

“She’s so pretty, can you actually believe we’re on the same planet as her?” Jake pesters Jay endlessly, mouth practically foaming at the sight of you in the signature red latex swimsuit.

“What other planet would we even be on then?” His best friend scoffs, the first time he’s ever seen Jake so down bad for basically anything other than wave particle theories.

Jake ignores him, eyes still fixated on you — a bright smile plastered on your face as the sun’s rays hit you like a spotlight. “I want to explore the science of the atoms that make up her being,” he says, absentmindedly.

“Okay nerd, wrap it up,” Jay stops his friend, before he embarrasses himself from the volume of his voice. “No hot chick is ever going to dig a loser nerd, more so one that’s head over heels for atomic structure.”

Jay’s right, you’d never be interested. And Jake pouts at that very idea as he watches you talk to your colleague, another baywatcher named Sunghoon. And he can’t help but envy a little at Sunghoon’s figure — tall, athletic, and definitely doesn’t look like he secretly enjoys the elements of the periodic table song. (Jake thinks it’s catchy).

Jake doesn’t even need to take a look at himself to know that he’s nowhere near Sunghoon’s level of physicality. With a body that’s only been to the gym to work there as a receptionist, Jake knows nearly nothing about sports or swimming to be exact, only dragging himself out to the beach to accompany Jay and to watch you save lives.

“If you want her to even know you exist, you have to do something other than hide behind that ass textbook of yours.” Jay points out, and Jake gets deep in thought. Jay’s absolutely right, but between your lifeguard duties and his nervousness from just being around you, he can barely think of a way to create an opportunity to even talk to you.

“How about I create a damsel in distress scenario where I desperately need help and she swoops in like my saviour.” Jake suggests and Jay groans at his best friend’s weird delusions.

“Do you think you’re in some kind of teen beach movie, that’d never work,” he scolds, “just go up and talk to her like a normal person.” 

Normal. Jake thinks his definition of normal differs far from one of a passerby. Normal to him was burying his head in books, building a ten thousand piece lego figurine and bragging about his accomplishment to Jay the next day, you’d never like his normal, that was obvious to him.

“But I’m shy,” Jake states, as if drowning in a vast and wide sea is clearly the better option as compared to walking up to you and saying a simple ‘hi’. 

It probably would be, in his defence, if he actually knew how to swim. Jake has never set foot in waters this deep or treacherous but it wasn’t rocket science, how hard could pretending to drown even be?

“Fine, whatever,” Jay gives in to him easily, knowing Jake would end up doing whatever he wanted to do anyways, “but don’t come wailing to me when you embarrass yourself in front of her.”

Jake scoffs, Jay doesn’t know that he’s got it all planned out in his head — from the moment he shouts for your attention to the moment he acts as if he needs mouth to mouth cpr and your plush lips touch his. A goofy grin lighting up on his face as he imagines the last scenario in his head, your fingers pressed gently against his skin, eyes glazed with worry as you call out his name in hopes that he’d wake up. 

How romantic, too romantic even to the point where Jake turns pink and giggly with excitement, ignoring the look of horror his best friend casts on him to search for you across the beach.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, you’re going to get traumatised — like a trauma for the sea when you actually drown and can’t —” Jake tunes him out, used to his friend’s nagging. 

“Don’t worry man I got it,” Jake says with utmost confidence, “she’s gonna fall in love with me at first save and then we’d kiss and marry each other before adopting a dog that’d be named Layla.”

“Layla is such a bad dog name,” Jay scoffs and Jake shrugs, head and heart both racing at the thought of you.

Jake remembers the first time he’d ever seen you around the beach, the day when Jay dragged him out of his summer home to ‘exercise’: a mere ruse to get his nose out of his textbooks and enjoy summer vacation for once.

That day, he waddled through the sandy beach, grumbling about how the granules of sand stuck to his feet uncomfortably and how they occupied the spaces between his toes. His favourite spider-man comic that looked like it’d been through war and back settled neatly in his grasp as he hung his head down to avoid the piercing rays of sunlight.

It’d only been minutes and he already wanted to leave, unused to the sticky feeling of sweat coating his skin like glaze. It’s loud here, too loud — party remixes blasting through the speakers of multiple beach goers along with the nonstop chattering and constant movement.

The only time Jake had ever been to a place this crowded was comic con when he was ten, and even that was air conditioned. Eyes still locked at the sandy pathway before him, Jake mumbles a string of vulgarities, fingers curling around the pages of his tattered book, lips dry from the heat.

And suddenly a shout from afar, a piercing ‘watch out!’ that gave Jake no time to react before a beach volleyball hammered into the side of his head, the force causing him to plummet into the floor with a disgruntled ‘ACK’, comic now thrown to the side as he held his head in agony.

Stupid fucking beach goers, he thinks, after having nearly consumed a mouthful of sand from his fall of grace. Do they know nothing about trajectory? Parabolas? How hard could it be to hit a ball properly?

His eyes are shut, mouth open to let out a moan of agony, head thumping wildly. This was such a bad idea, textbooks would never hurt his head this much.

“Bro, are you alright?” The familiar voice enters his ears, and Jake musters the energy to open his eyes, giving his friend a dead stare.

“Is the grass green?” Jake replies agitatedly, head still beating like a drum.

“Well there’s a lifeguard coming to check up on you, you know the pretty one that’s on duty today,” Jay states and Jake couldn’t really care less — the spot on his head still swelling. As if some pretty lifeguard could change anything.

Then he takes in a waft of your scent before he feels your presence, lavender sea salt and dreams as your fingers gently grasp his arm, turning him onto his back. Jake doesn’t know what’s happening, your touch leaving tingling sensations that made him miss the warmth of your fingertips, no matter how short the contact was.

“Sorry, I was reprimanding the kids who knocked you out, are you alright?” The same words or care that once came out of his friend’s mouth now coming out of yours, yet for some reason they made his heart flutter and ears burn.

Everything’s suddenly in slow motion and long gone was the snappy feeling of annoyance once he heard you, a melodious voice that could calm waves causing him to glance at its owner, only to see you — eyes, smile, skin all honey sweet. Jake almost lets out a soft gasp at your beauty, something about the tenderness in your eyes and the mirth in your smile that made flowers bloom in his chest.

He feels a different kind of lightheadedness, the one where he feels like he’s drunk on champagne of love. “Is this heaven?” he mumbles, a mindless question that allows a soft giggle out of your lips.

Jake’s in a daze, staring at you with a gaping mouth and clear, innocent eyes — his hair a mess on his head and his face sprinkled with the tan granules of sand. It feels serene, almost surreal how suddenly everything around him feels calm.

“I don’t think we’re dead just yet,” you answer, fingers moving to tuck flyaway strands of your hair behind your ear. The eyes of the boy in front of you are so bright and inviting you almost forget what you’re actually here to do. “Is your head alright? Any headaches, confusion or vision changes?”

“I think I’m hallucinating,” he replies, breathless. The pretty boy in front of you looks like he’d just fallen from heaven as he tries to sit himself up, head still spinning a little from the impact.

And he stares at you as if you’re some goddess, some mythical creature he’s never seen before. “I think I’m very much real,” you reply, pearly whites flashed out at him he almost faints. 

“Yeah, cool, right,” Jake finally snaps out of it after receiving a sharp nudge from Jay who’s trying not to scream at his friend’s interaction with you. “Absolutely, same. I’m so real,” his cheeks flushed rosy red as his eyes left your figure to dart everywhere else.

Jake thinks that even the mighty spiderman hasn’t experienced embarrassment this bad before, in fact probably no one has. “So are you feeling alright?” you ask, worried as you finally take the time to scan his head for any major injuries. 

Previous situation long forgotten by him, Jake can only seem to focus on how excruciatingly close you are to him right now, with your body leaned over his face, cleavage literally dangling in front of his eyes like bait. 

And if it was possible to get even redder than he was before, Jake feels heat rush onto his face. It was probably two inches or three away, or should he say they? He doesn’t know, because he’s never been in such a situation before — the two of them, so perfectly shaped by the tight red latex swimsuit you wore just right there.

Jake also doesn’t know if he’s salivating or not, and he’s way too scared to even move a muscle to check or tell you about the weird position he was in, or maybe even adjust himself so his hard on isn’t poking through the material of his beach shorts so Jake just decides to lean back a little and close his eyes: respectful, gentlemanly, meditative.

“There seems to be no major problem from a look at it but if you’re feeling any of the symptoms i’ve listed before, don’t be afraid to come find me or any of the baywatchers.” 

“Sure,” Jake responds, eyes still closed and body shaking, too scared to open his eyes again. 

“Jake, are you feeling good?” 

He peeks open his eyes, only to find you with concerned filled features and Jay who looked constipated trying to hold his laugh in. “I’m alright,” he says, playing it off as nothing.

“You’re unusually red,” you point out, brows furrowed. 

Jake lets out a sheepish laugh, “it’s a sunburn, you know, the second degree kind when your blood vessels dilate which causes redness.” 

Oh, he’s cooked — reaching the third stage of awkwardness: babbling extremely useless facts. It’s a tier system, as Jay liked to term it and he’s reached the gold tier of loserification.

“You’re cute,” you state, and he momentarily goes into a shock, soul leaving his body for a split second before returning. Did you just call him cute? Him? The guy who slept with spiderman plushies and talked to himself when he was bored?

“Thank you,” he replies before cursing at himself on the inside. Thank you? What were you, his teacher? “You too, I guess.” His hands rub the nape of his neck uneasily, tongue darting out to wet his shriveled lips.

“Thank you, Jakey.” 

He’s so gone.

“He’s so cute, you don’t even understand Hoon,” you groan, face in your hands, wailing in such despair that someone else would think you were mourning. “His eyes, his face, his mannerism, everything.”

Your lifeguard partner leans back into the grey couch of your rest lounge, face full of boredom and annoyance at your nth time talking about the boy you’d seen on the beach.

Sunghoon’s arms folded over his broad shirtless chest as he said flat toned, “you know I got it the first time. If you like him that much just go up and talk to him.”

You sigh, fingers running through the ends of your hair in deep thought, you wish it were that easy, “there’s no opportunity to.” 

“What does that even mean,” Sunghoon questions, “you’re literally a baywatcher, you can create opportunities to talk to that loser. Ask him to join the team or something.”

“He’s not a loser,” you fight back, as if you knew Jake personally. Sunghoon shoots you a look and you immediately add on, “maybe he is, but that’s what’s cute about him.”

“He either carries a physics book or a spider-man comic to the beach everyday to watch you,” he points out, “he has no life.”

Well, Jake does do that but that’s what you liked about him. The way he frantically hides his face behind his books whenever you look at his direction, forehead and eyes peeking out once in a while to see if you’re looking away. His facial features and the way he talked so animatedly to his friend about god knows what. You think you could watch Jake talk about paint drying and you’d still be interested.

“Look, if you like him that much and he obviously likes you, then find a way to talk to him — or like I don't know, pray that he drowns and he needs you to save him?” Sunghoon suggests, seemingly getting into the idea of setting you up with Jake. Summer around here was boring anyways, and he needed entertainment.

“Wow, how charming of you to wish that upon him,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at your friend’s suggestions. In the past few days you’d been watching Jake, you’d never seen him step foot into the waters, not even a dip of his pinky toe. In fact, he’d always place his stuff the furthest away from the sea, under the shade of a palm tree that decorated the area.

If Jake Sim ever needed saving it would probably be from something unusual like getting his foot stuck too deep into a sand hole he’d dug out of boredom.

“Alright, fine whatever you want. I guess you could stick to bae-watching instead like a coward.” Sunghoon sweeps his hair back, glancing at the clock hanging on the lounge entrance that gleamed a bright red 16:00, an indication of the start of your next shift. “Just saying you could always just ask him to join you for your duties, Heeseung does that with his girlfriend all the time.”

“Jake’s not my boyfriend,” you point out and Sunghoon scoffs, grumpy about the start of the next shift, “yeah, I bet you wish he was.”

With a grunt he stands up, beelining for the entrance as you follow suit, millions of thoughts running through your head. 

Despite how people may have perceived you to be — a popular, outgoing person who had boys lining up for a chance to be by your side, you’d always found awkward boys charming: a nerd who’d focus on no one but you, who’d talk on and on about the things that interested them, who’d treat you special in a way no one else would; intelligently.

And there was something about the pretty boy on the beach, his awkward mannerisms and geekish way of speech that so starkly contrasted his attractive features. Jake looked nothing like a nerd at all and maybe it’s exactly that unexpected charm that pulled you towards him.

“Hey, isn’t that Jake?” Sunghoon stops in his tracks, finger pointed at a figure in the water that was flailing around, splashes of water visible from the elevated platform you were on. “Can he actually swim?”

You have to squint your eyes to recognise the figure that’s not too far off the shore — a mop of messy brown hair and a white tee shirt that clung onto his body like second skin. Yup, probably Jake. No one else would have the idea of wearing a shirt to swim like he would.

Another indicator was the tossed away comic book at the shore, spider-man on the cover prominent alongside Jake’s nike slides. And you’d think that Jake out of all people would know better than to jump into the ocean recklessly, especially when he seemed like the kind of guy to watch water safety videos for entertainment and enrichment.

There’s immediate urgency in your steps, rushing down the creaky wooden steps and onto the soft sand, heat scorching the soles of your feet before you take a dip into the ocean, rescue tube against your back as you swim towards him.

Sunghoon follows suit, recognising your intent. Toes padding across the wooden groyne for a better entry point to Jake. 

Jake is struggling. And he wonders why Jay didn’t try to talk him out of this plan even more than he did. The water’s cold in contrast to the heat he’s gotten used to, engulfing him with nowhere to go. He kicks his legs in sheer attempt to keep himself up, arms mechanically swinging in circles like the demonstration video he’d watched on youtube just last night.

The salt water stings his eyes and he has no option but to close them — hoping that his best friend would notice that he’s now metres away from shore and finds a baywatcher (you) to save him.

It then all happens in a flash as he feels a board prop his body up, his back bent over the buoyant material as someone pulls him to safety, water no longer encapsulating his limb.

Is it you? He really hopes it is. Jake wishes that he had the capacity to open his ends right now and endure the stinging sensation to take a look at his saviour but he’s weak and his eyes are burning.

Sooner than later he finds his feet dragging through wet sand, sticking onto his leg with a sensation he wants to shake off. 

“Jake, can you hear me?” your voice resounds in his ears but before he has the chance to reply, another voice cuts him off.

“I think he’s passed out,” a deeper voice, a man. It makes his heart palpitate, “check if he’s breathing.”

Jake’s senses now heightened from his loss of sight, feels your presence getting closer, body hovering over his, and he can feel them brush over his chest — his mind is in a frenzy and he holds his breath, trying to keep still.

“Hoon, I don’t think he is,” he hears your voice filled with nervousness. Should he open his eyes now? Or should he continue acting?

Amidst his decision making process, you move in a rush, palms getting situated on the centre of Jake’s chest, periodically getting distracted by the outline of his lean body through his translucent white shirt.

Jake doesn’t need to decide because one push of your body weight causes him to wheeze, a lough cough leaving his mouth from the heavy chest compression.

Opening his eyes to be greeted by the sight of you and your counterpart both looking down at him with worry, Jake flashes his audience an awkward grin, unknowing of what to do next.

Half of his mind has drifted away, feeling betrayed by how his plan had failed him, how swimming was actually way harder than it looked. The other half was scrambling to redeem himself in front of you, not wanting to seem like a loser, because it was 2025 — almost everyone knew how to swim.

“Jake, you okay?” you say for the nth time since you’ve met him, seeming as though every time you manage to interact with your crush it’s always about him needing saving and you being the saviour.

He nods, a soft cough under his breath in hopes to clear the saltiness lining his throat before propping himself up with his elbows and passing a look between you and Sunghoon. “Thanks guys,” he mumbles, fully taking in how embarrassing this was, “fuck this is really embarrassing.”

You giggle, extending a hand to pull him up. “Why would you go in the water if you don't know how to swim?” You questioned, head tilted cutely as you looked at him with curiosity that filled his heart.

“I do know how to swim,” Jake lies, “I mean it’s really all about buoyancy and overcoming it due to the lower position of our centre of gravity. Plus, if your lungs are full of air and you’re on your back you’d float for a substantial amount of time—”

Sunghoon stares at you in horror, as if he was asking you if this was really the guy you liked. 

“Sorry guys, i got too carried away,” he catches himself before he could spiral into viscous forces, upthrust, let alone rotational equilibrium. And he catches how you’re looking at him — an adoring smile so perfect his heart skips a beat and his stomach flips. Jake swears he can hear angels from god’s heaven harping love melodies as you exchange his gaze.

“Don’t worry man, she’s into that kind of stuff,” Sunghoon says beside him, patting his back encouragingly, “it’s like she has a nerd kink.”

A loud slap echoes through the air as you send a betrayed look to your friend, cheeks heating up at his confessions about you. Jake, similarly wears the same look — as if a fairy had sprinkled rosy dust over the apples of his cheeks.

His teeth gnaw at his lips in discomposure as he watches Sunghoon flee the scene, a victorious smirk etched on his face. 

“Sorry bout him,” you speak up amidst the silence, moving over to sit yourself next to Jake, a slight breeze making you shiver, “he’s really…weird.”

You tuck the stringy strands of your wet hair behind your ears, toes playing with the granules of sand under them. 

Jake feels resentment in his heart for the very first time. Not for Sunghoon or anything else, but for the evening sun and the way it kisses your skin. He watches you in soft adoration before replying, “it’s not weird.”

You look at him, a soft hum leaving your lips in curiosity of the meaning behind his words. “I mean the nerd kink, not Sunghoon. Like—there’s nothing wrong with having a kink or being kinky. It’s just a preference, a kink— I should really stop saying the word kink right now.”

You laugh out loud, not a shy giggle but a real one. Your head thrown back in sheer entertainment from the boy beside you who looked like a moonlight’s kiss. And you think that you like him a lot. Because with Jake you felt as if you were at ease, it seemed so natural to talk to him about odd things: something you’d never really done before. But now you could only think of the things you have yet to hear him talk about, all the things that’d be nice to do with him.

Jake thinks that if the cosmos had a lullaby, it’d be your laugh resounding freely in accompaniment with the waves that hit the shore. He only now realises that it’s already evening and the beach is clearing out. And for some reason today, the beach feels like home: or maybe it’s just because he’s next to you.

He soon realises that you’re much more than just the pretty face that he’d noticed you for — for some reason, you bring out a different side of him: and he didn’t mean the loserish antics or babbling of nonsensical facts, you make him want to try new things, act wild, take risks. Around you he feels like living, something he’s never once felt like cooped up in the four walls of his study room.

“Yeah, you definitely should,” you grin at him cheekily, teasing him, “wouldn’t want people around to think you’re kinky.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, eyes glazing over your face. He realises that you not only look pretty under the morning sun, but throughout the day; a different kind of pretty, the kind that reminded him of seasons. And Jake feels the sudden need to lean over and kiss you without knowing why. 

His fingers crawl towards yours, fingertips brushing over your soft skin cautiously, as if he was asking for consent to touch you, to feel you as if you were a sacred being and he was just him: in all of his geekish glory and ways.

Fingers wrapped around yours delicately, he wonders if you can feel how nervous he is through the sweat on his palms. Jake leans closer, breath slightly erratic in his own way — he’s never done this before, never felt this before: wanting to kiss a girl, and he thinks that he really should’ve searched up more about the topic of love or watched a tutorial on how to french kiss and maybe practice it on his arm before he actually gives you a kiss.

You welcome the warmth of Jake’s touch, fingers twirling over his in quiet acceptance and need. You wanted this, you wanted to kiss him, feel his lips on yours. The heat of his breath hitting your lips as he stared at you intently, eyes searching for some sort of answer to questions unknown to you.

Before you can lean into him, Jake pulls back, breathing heavy as he stares at you with complex feelings. Your shoulders sag a little in disappointment as you call out to him, voice soft and airy.

The way his name rolls off the tip of your tongue almost makes him lose his mind but Jake holds himself back, tongue darting out of his lips to satiate the lack of your lips against his for now. 

It’s an indescribable feeling, to hold himself back from pressing his lips on you, temptation and desire clouding his mind. But he thinks to himself that you deserve more than that, more than just a kiss and frantic panic from him. Jake knows himself well, that without a plan he falters and the last thing he’d ever want is to leave you hanging while he took his own time to figure out his thoughts.

It wasn’t that he needed to figure out his feelings, no — from the very beginning Jake knew he liked you, that much was true. The swelling, hopeful feeling in his chest every time he sees you, how he loses his mind and forgets almost everything about his being when he is with you. The catch in his breath when you look his way and the comfort of your simple touch. It was more so the aftermath of such a rushed feeling of want: Jake had never dated anyone, let alone liked a girl. You were his first, and he wanted it to be right, be good. Not perfect, just genuine.

“I’m sorry, I just–” he whispers under his breath, his puppy dog eyes softening your heart. He cuts himself off, and he didn’t need to say more because you understood. His affection was prominent and sometimes love, in its whole entirety, didn't have to be rushed through like the world portrayed it to be. You think that love, sometimes deserves to be slow, like the calm dwindling of a campfire that mocks the sun, a feeling that warms us, feeds us, and cares for us. And for now, the heat of Jake’s hands on yours is enough, and you’ll hold on to this pulsating heart of yours against other rhythms. Because the world will come and go in the tide of a day, but here, his hand, with your future in its palm seemed to be everlasting.

“It’s alright Jakey,” you hum, a wordless confession of acceptance as he falls into your orbit just as you do his, an unspoken connection as sure as gravity that said I will wait for you, unconditionally. 

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you turn to look up at the sky, a mix of orange and pink, as if the universe was dictating a story of your feelings. The once blaring sun now a calm hue and you think you could stay here forever, with Jake’s trembling fingers wrapped around yours and the rhythm of his slow breaths.

“The sky is really beautiful today,” you gasp, watching the sun dwindle down in real time.

Jake’s still staring at you and he can’t seem to peel his gaze to the scenery you’re complimenting because nothing could seemingly ever compare to your beauty. And he’s seen this scene before, in those romcom movies and he always thought it was cliche but now, he understands it. 

“So are you,” he whispers, and you catch it. You’ve heard this one before. Many times. But it was something about his voice, something different that told you it was the truth, like it wasn’t the same like the rest. “You look like a princess.” My princess, Jake thinks.

“And you look like a prince,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the veins along his hand. And you could sit here for hours doing that: tracing his veins like streets in a city made of Jake; all leading you back to his heart.

Jake holds back a smile, his heart beating inevitably. “I think a prince would know how to swim,” he jokes.

His eyes glimmer under the stars, and you wish Jake would just take your heart. “Well, I guess my prince doesn’t,” you say offhandedly, absentmindedly.

He catches on without a beat, the darkness of the skies seemingly giving him a burst of confidence. Or maybe it was just because it was you — his pretty girl who’d unexpectedly become his home.

“You’re my princess then,” he sighs contentedly, “we can be Eric and Ariel, you know, since you’re basically a mermaid and I’m a land being.”

Oh my god, you laugh (something you seem to do a lot whenever you’re with Jake), “I’m a lifeguard Jake,” you correct him, incredulously.

“But it’s synonymous to us,” he tries to explain, “unless you want me to be akin to Ursula, I could totally rock the villainous sea wizard character but then it’d be incest.”

Jake says it too innocently you almost tumble into him from laughter, corners of your lips burn from excessive smiling. The summer in your bones warmed the winters Jake’s skin has weathered as he catches you, steadying you as your body moves erratically from laughter.

“Jake, you’d be my uncle,” you breathe out, and he shrugs.

“That’s why I said that it’d be incest,” he exclaims, “but it’s common in some cultures — they’re called avunculate marriages, kinda cool if you ask me. Not the incest, I mean the fact.”

“Just shut up,” you tell him endearingly, head moving to rest on his shoulder.

Both of you don’t address the insinuation of a relationship but instead you and Jake just stay quiet, basking in the comfortable silence between you with occasional teases and questions. And Jake can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly.

You continuously tease Jake that he has a thing for people in red latex suits. The outfit of the superhero on his coveted comics he so often brings around having a close resemblance to the red of your baywatch swimsuit. Jake groans every time you bring it up, face buried between the nape of your neck as you continuously humor him. He takes it like a champ though, because it’s you, and he knows you’re secretly obsessed with the comics he brought to the beach too, oftentimes sneaking a read between your shifts that you now spent with him under his favourite palm tree.

It’s a comfortable cycle, coming to the beach with Jake, clocking in, taking a break with Jake, doing your second shift, and Jake sending you home. Your Jake-filled routine filled with laughter and stupidly knowledgeable facts that you’d never use in your life: like how if you break the word 'helicopter’ into prefix and suffix, it’s not ‘heli’ and ‘copter’, it’s ‘helico’ and ‘pter’. 

You were stumped for a long time, as he proudly showed you the definition of it in his very own Oxford Dictionary (who the hell owns a paperback Oxford Dictionary?). “See,” Jake said, chest pumped out as his finger underlined the word, “Pterodactyl too, because pter means wings.”

You don’t ask how he knows all this or how he also knows that starfishes apparently poop through their mouths. And you vividly remember how animatedly Jake talked about the sea creature and its habit to expel waste through their mouths. “Their stomach extends out of their mouths to engulf and digest their prey, marine invertebrates like clams and smaller crustaceans like corals, and then it goes back in then the waste comes back out.” 

Jake gives you a live demonstration without you needing to ask, waddling through the sands as he searches for a starfish, shoving it into your face in pure enthusiasm as he pointed out the different parts he was just talking about. 

Not to mention his extreme love for comics, a cute framed picture of a ten year old Jake at comic con beside his bed along with other minifigures and intricate lego sculptures. It was endearing to say the least, how Jake wanted to share everything with you and wanted to know everything about you.

And you want him in the bluntest way, you wanted his lips, his hands, his arms. You wanted him the way the ocean wants the shore, constantly reaching again and again. 

You share with Jake everything about you and he memorises it like it’s facts, like it was supposed to be his form of common sense. He knew your favourite book, your drink order, and the way you always tapped your fingers on your thigh when you were deep in thought. And he wanted to tell you that he prided himself in the fact that he memorised the freckles on your skin from the sun, how they were like miniature stars forming their little constellations. He wanted to hear you laugh, and know that he was the reason, and tell you that you had completely beguiled him, that you were his entire world.

It’s crazy how fast you can get to know a person, how fast someone can feel like a blanket of warmth even under the summer sun. Jake for once doesn’t have an explanation to this feeling, he just feels like this is what he’s for. It’s pure coincidence, or maybe fate, or even sheer blind luck but no matter what it was, you had his heart. 

Not only that, you also had the breath caught in his lungs, each bone in his spine, even bone in his body, every single finger that shakes whenever you are near, all the muscles that ache in his mouth to kiss you, his eyes that are always looking for you. You had much more than just his heart, you had everything that kept his heart alive.

Jake watches you as you do your superhero duties. Right now you’re watching a flock of kids, pulling them away from the oceans cautiously as you talk with them, facial expressions spirited and eyes shaped like crescents. The past few weeks of being around you did nothing but fuel his desire to be with you — well technically he was already with you but you get the gist.

And he decides that if he really wants to get this right he needs to ask people of experience, those that have dabbled in the field of dating anything, though more specifically hot women who were way out of their league, so he approaches his best friend who he hadn’t seen in a while; given, he was too caught up in your pretty smile and twinkling eyes.

“Simp,” Jay rolls his eyes at his best friend’s sheepish smile, “you leave me hanging for weeks and suddenly when your girlfriend has work you come to me for entertainment.”

“Not my girlfriend, yet,” Jake corrects, acknowledging the title of being a simp, “which is exactly the topic I came to talk to you about.”

“What, you want to know how to rizz up girls?” Jay cocks his head as Jake lays down next to him, head hitting the soft sand with a thud.

“No, I want to know how you managed to bag someone out of your league,” Jake says and Jay rolls his eyes, unable to believe the nerve his best friend had of insulting him right when he needed advice. “You know, how your palms don’t get sweaty around her, how you even managed to get her to like you— just saying you look nothing like the type of guy your girlfriend would ever go after.”

Jay takes a deep breath, forgetting about how much he missed his friend’s company the moment he opened his mouth. “Number one, she chased me so I am definitely her type,” he starts, “number two, that lifeguard of yours literally loves you, she looks at you with heart eyes I don’t get what you’re asking me. Just ask her if she would ever accept some geekish freak like you as her boyfriend.”

“You suck at giving advice,” Jake scoffs, his best friend giving him little to no substance to even work with. No manual on how to ask a hot girl out, where to go, what to do, if he should bring you to a fancy restaurant or the movies — actually scratch that, Jake probably didn’t have the caliber to keep his mouth shut about the different facts running through his mind in the movies and he’d probably clumsily find a way to embarrass himself with his lack of decorum at a fancy restaurant too.

“Well, I answered, didn't I?” Jay fights back, “why are you even asking me, shouldn’t you be asking her — you’re not bringing me out on a date, are you?”

Jake cringes at the thought. “Touche,” he grimaces, “I’d never take you on a date, you’d probably drain my wallet with the way you eat. No one would ever want to date you after seeing that.”

“And guess who out of the two of us actually has a girlfriend,” Jay grins, “plus, you should be nice to me, I’m literally helping you. Don’t you know the saying — the one that goes never bite the hand that fingers you or something like that.”

“You’re not fingering me, what the hell,” Jake groans, mind consumed with a disgusting image of Jay. How the hell did I even become friends with this man, Jake thinks. “Please, never finger me or say that ever again or I’m actually going to hex you or worse, I’ll tell your girlfriend you confessed to me over the summer and you’re actually a closeted gay.”

Jay flashes an expression of horror, as if he’d just seen a ghost. Jake crumples up in laughter at his friend’s expression, arms hugging his body as he rolls around. “I’ll do the same if you do, I’ll tell your girlfriend.”

Again, not his girlfriend yet, but Jake doesn’t take the effort to correct it, liking the ring of the title a little too much.

Jake spends his afternoon thinking while you’re hard at work. What would be the best way to ask you about all of your dating preferences without making you suspicious? And he settles on his grand idea of a survey, you know like a buzzfeed quiz he could make and slip a few integral questions in that would help him fill in the blanks in his head.

He scrambles onto his phone, fingers flying over the keyboards as he logs into his buzzfeed account (user pinktiger551, long story) before he inputs questions to his buzzfeed quiz, occasionally pausing to think of filler questions to throw you off. And when it’s completed in its full 7 question glory, he thinks it’s perfect — not too obvious of his true intentions yet lighthearted and easy.

When your shift is over, you’re greeted by an over enthusiastic Jake, phone in hand and he shoves the device into your hands. 

“Hi Jakey,” you greet him, overwhelmed by the particular amount of energy he had today, “what’s this?”

Oh shit, Jake didn’t think of that — he panicked for a short while, “uhm, it’s for my psychology course, yeah.” Jake settles on that, trying to convince himself more than you as you stare at him knowingly. Jake didn’t take psychology, hell a few days ago he was grumbling to you on how people who took psychology were wasting their time and physics was way better.

But you accept it for now, wanting to see what Jake had up his sleeve. 

“First date,” you read, scrolling through the poorly written options, one of them directly stating ‘something else (tell me)’. You hold back a laugh at the sight of Jake’s serious facial expression, “do I just click this if my first date option isn’t on this list?”

Jake nods fervently, eyes of curiosity gazing at you, “now you have to tell me what it is,” Jake says, prepared to take a mental note on what you say.

“Well, I’ve always liked the thought of a beach picnic, you know those romantic ones where it’s late at night and there’s fairy lights surrounding us and we eat a load of junk food and laugh at everything but nothing at all? Yeah, I think a beach picnic would be nice.”

Jake’s supposed to take mental notes, but his mind is too caught up in the pronouns you’d used. Us? We? Barely catching on to your mention of junk food and jokes. 

You said us, he grins, a lopsided one that showcases his set of pearly whites.

You scroll through the rest of the questions, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at the amount of times Jake had managed to sneak his name into the answers. It was adorable, too adorable. “Jakey, are you sure this is for uni? Seems a bit too informal for it,” you ask again once you reach the second question, a filler question asking for your priorities in a zombie apocalypse, one of the options being Jake, “I mean, not everyone who takes this quiz would know you personally let alone have kids with you…”

Two options below Jake’s name was the option of ‘our kids (perchance?)’ and you’d like to think that this option was dedicated to you and that this was not some random survey Jake gave around to random girls on the street.

“You’d pick our kids over me?” Jake gasps from your head, his mop of hair moving over to block your vision of the phone screen as he double checks the choice that brings him to his despair. “Our fake kids over me? I can’t believe it!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have put it in as an option, you know I’m a sucker for kids,” you argue and Jake has no retaliation, only having himself to blame for his lack of deep thinking.

The rest of the questions pass by in a blur, Jake’s intentions as clear as day as you reach the end, confetti flying pass your screen as the screen read: “You want to date Jake” in bold, an adorable picture of Jake in glasses underneath it along with a short paragraph:

Jake is the one for you! Even though he may be geekish or weird, Jake is your soulmate. This is a sign from the universe! Don't miss the chance to date Jake! Please, date Jake!

“So do I have to go on a date with you now?” you grin, waving your results into Jake’s face, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his features as he stared at it with glossy eyes.

Even though this was all planned by Jake, his cheeks are a pretty coral shade, his teeth gnawing at his lips in habit of nervousness as he shrugs, “I guess the universe is telling you to do so.”

“And I guess I just have to take this as a sign,” you answer. Jake under the evening glow of the sunset looked even more golden than he was before, and in this instant you realize that this man in front of you, who you think could be crowned the most attractive, funniest person in the world, actually wants you back in your whole entirety.

One of Jake’s favourite things about human physiology is the way one’s eyes changes when they look at someone they love, he watches the way your pupils dilate automatically like they do when it’s dark outside but this time it’s because of him — and he’s pretty sure he’s looking at you the very same way. The edge of his eyes soften a little and sometimes they even get watery which he can’t seem to control. Tears of joy, of course. And he has this habit of raising his eyebrows around you, as if he is trying to make his eyes bigger, trying to get a better vision and see all the details, blinking less in hopes of elongating this moment even if it was just for a millisecond more.

“Next tuesday?” Jake asks, and you nod your head in confirmation. “Is the universe telling you that that’s the day?”

“Yeah, and so is tarot.com,” he adds, “scorpio men are supposed to be filled with luck next tuesday, I think I’d probably need it then.”

“You’re such a nerd,” you laugh.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. But you love it don’t you,” he teases, “I still haven’t forgotten about your nerd kink, princess.”

You groan, never forgiving your coworker for it, “you’ll never let me live past that, huh?”

“I don’t know, will I?” Jake’s eyes crinkle around the corners, clear and radiant.

“I sure hope so,” you state, unable to keep your eyes off him, “or I’m going to start on my red suit theory again.”

This time it’s Jake who groans in embarrassment, whispering soft ‘no’s as his hand reaches out towards you, fingers caressing the back of your hand. “It’s just a mere coincidence, this is absolute torture.”

“Is it?” you grin, pulling Jake closer towards you, his presence welcoming as you inhale the soft scent of his being — a hint of vanilla and musk that you’ve come to recognise as home.

That night, Jake giggles on his way home, victorious from the results of his survey. You totally bought the psychology thing, Jake convinces himself that as he kicks his feet under his duvet, fingers flying across the screen as he texted you.

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ]  goodnight pretty princess☺️

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ] i miss you

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.45 PM ] btw what is your idea of junk food🧐 just some details i need for psych class

You [ 11.46 PM ] Jakey go to bed

Jakey (my nerd🫶🏻) [ 11.46 PM ] I can’t I’m shaking from excitement haha

It’s Tuesday and Jake’s freaking out (as he has been the past few days) — having already triple checked tarot.com's daily love horoscope tab just to make sure that today or all days would be his lucky day. Jake, although a believer of science over anything, decides that today he’ll leave it up to fate.

He faces himself in the mirror, chest puffed to imitate confidence as he straightens his dress shirt for the nth time, going over the creases of its collar. The time on the digital clock hanging on his wall showed ‘18 00’ and he pats himself on the back for being right on time, having told you he’d pick you up at 6.20.

Jake picks up the single white rose flower he’d built with lego carefully in between his fingers, the delicate structure having taken him seven hours to figure out how to landscape; but Jake didn’t mind because it was for you, and he knew you’d cherish his effort and time.

Unlike Jake’s clean look, his bedroom is a mess: courtesy to his extreme panic when he woke up late from his nap, his usual alarm seemingly only unsounding on the most important days of his life. Tiny pieces of green and white lego splattered over the floor as Jake tiptoes through the mess to finally escape the confines of his bedroom.

As he walks to your house, Jake dials up his best friend, in hopes that everything is already in place. “Did you do it? Jay I swear if you dip on me again like you did five years ago during our science olympiad presentation I’m going to hex you into another dimension.”

“Calm down schoolgirl,” Jay’s voice ringing across the phone, occasionally cracking up, “I did it, and I told you I had a stomach ache that day, I wasn’t lying.”

Sure he wasn’t, Jake just enjoyed teasing his friend. “Did you get the junk food?”

“I said I got it man, everything you sent on the list: cheetos, doughnuts, bread, and whatever the hell lobster butter chips are — those were six fifty by the way, you better pay me back.”

Jake hums, he’s not going to be paying him back, the view of your house now directly in his view, “okay now scram, I’m picking her up right now — wait actually I’m kind of scared, like not kind of, I’m freaking out on the inside. Quick question, do you think I should’ve carried my lucky charm with me today? You know the one I take to all my science competitions?”

“You mean the piece of spider man's suit that you claim is real? No?” Jay almost reprimands, “you’re going on a date Jake, not to a comic convention.”

“Right, right,” he whispers under his breath, inching closer to your front door by the second, “thanks dude, you’re the man.”

Jay grunts over the phone, a half assed reply before he hangs up and leaves Jake standing alone before your front door, single lego rose in hand making him feel bare. Maybe he should’ve brought a gift, oh he definitely should have.

Before Jake dwindles into full panic mode, the door opens and all his thoughts fly out the window because you look like you fell from heaven, white fabric of your dress draped across your silk skin, smile that embarrasses  the sun into chewing its glory, stingy thick rays of you stealing the air from his lungs.

“Hey Jakey,” you greet him, and he feels all his worries wash away — like your voice was raw harmony that trickled throughout his body and soothed his soul.

Jake for a second is speechless, mouth a gaping mess as he just looks at you, pupils dilated and all. “Is that for me?” you ask, kitten heels clacking down the cement stairs of your home, extending your hand to take the lego flower from his grasp. “I’ve never seen a lego flower like this before, is this a limited edition of their series?”

“Kinda,” Jake manages to croak out, still entranced. He realises that he’s never really seen you outside your usual working clothes or a large, oversized shirt you usually wore home. Blush heat lips and honey ocean skin wrapped in soft melodies of lace satin, Jake with the whole dictionary memorised in his head, can’t seem to find a word to describe you; and maybe that was exactly how you looked, indescribable.

Jake doesn’t tell you that he spent seven hours rummaging through his lego collection like a mole digging through soil to find the correct pieces for this very flower, disassembling some of his favourite figurines to attain the fitting pieces. He doesn’t tell you that he built a white rose because it represented pure, true love and he felt it was fitting of you — his first love.

Falling in love, it’s a weird feeling. Jake can’t remember the moment he realised that he was actually in love with you and that this was much deeper than a shallow attractions based on your looks, he feels it burn so intense like an explosion of fireworks in his body; it’s the sleepless nights that left him feeling exhilarated at the thought of seeing you the next day.

“You look really pretty today,” Jake whispers as he pulls you in for a hug, breath tickling your cheek, painting them a sheen of pink. 

“Do I?” you lift your head from his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his neck, “you look handsome, like a prince.” 

“I suppose I’m pass the Ursula stage then?” He jokes and you giggle, “am I promoted to Price Eric now?”

“I’ll see,” you reply, pulling away with a lingering touch, fingers running down his arm to intertwine your hands with his as you lead him down the familiar path to the beach.

“So this is a test,” he furrows his eyebrows and you shrug.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.”

“C’mon baby, don’t do this to me,” Jake says absentmindedly, endearment dripping out of his lips like second nature. Your heart pumps, a song of fragile birds flooding your soul. Jake speaks in whispers of warm summer rain and silver rivers dancing through the abyss of the morning sky, and you smile, falling into this daydream. “At least tell me the prerequisites, is this a point based exam or like an aptitude type.”

“Charm me,” you tease, and Jake looks at you knowingly.

“You’re making fun of me again,” he groans, guiding you to the set up his best friend had prepared for him. And Jake thinks that his best friend has outdone himself yet again, and he starts to forgive him for all the times he’d ditched Jake during important science competitions because it looked like a dream — fairy lights draped around the area with a romantic ambience, food set up on the picnic mat that Jake guides you to. 

You take in a breath, shocked at the view. Jake seemingly always outdoing himself whenever it came to surprising you. “It’s beautiful Jake.”

Jake’s shoulders rise up in victory and confidence, his first date looking to be going extremely smoothly for him: or perhaps it was because it was with you and you brought comfort with you everywhere you went.

“Lobster butter chips? These are so expensive,” you almost squeal, letting go of Jake’s hand to pick up the bag of chips in excitement. 

Making a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him, Jake makes space for the both of you to settle down, summer breeze blowing as the waves hit the shore rhythmically.

And it’s in moments like this, you wonder to yourself why no one has ever been entranced by Jake as you are right now, how someone like him — so innately pure and beautiful in all definitions isn’t seen as he is in your eyes. Because his laugh is utterly contagious and his smile makes you giddy for no reason, the jokes he makes etched in your mind that you still burst out laughing days later: you’ve fallen for every second you get to spend with Jake, even if those seconds have left you wanting more. But in those small moments of wonder, you look at Jake and feel glad that no one else has seen him like you do, because if they looked deep enough to see all of those things within him, then you’d never have been able to.

You don’t even have to think about what to say, Jake already midway in a tangent about how excited he was for this day to arrive, something about extreme rituals and late night searches on some sketchy website called doctornerdlove that made him question his whole being.

“This man was a virgin at thirty nine, I thought I was reading about my future self,” he explains, pulling out his phone to show you the extremely sketchy website he had to get through two security warnings and five closed advertisements to reach, “and there was something about how someone tells him that sometimes a girl actually tried to flirt with him but he was too scared to even talk to them so he never got a girlfriend. And I was like oh my gosh, that could’ve been me— thank god you appeared before I turned 39.”

“Jakey, you’re twenty-two,” you look at him, adoringly, just like you’ve always been. “And you’re not even scared to talk to girls.”

“Age is just a concept, you know baby,” he starts, and the endearment still makes you shiver in delight, “and I am scared of girls, I was especially scared of you.”

Oh, you croon your neck in curiosity, you never knew that. Jake takes that as a signal to continue, hands flying through the air as he tries to mimic the exact situation, “okay, it wasn’t really fear, it was more of a wow-my-eyes-are-going-to-fly-out-of-my-sockets thing when I first saw you. You were checking up on me after the ball whammed into the side of my head, remember? And I asked you if you were real.”

“Jake, I literally thought you were so attractive then, I flirted with you,” you exclaimed.

“You did not,” he argues, “no way you did.”

“I called you Jakey and said that you were cute,” you point out.

“Yeah but my mom calls me that too,” he tries to retaliate, “not saying that the way you say it makes me think of my mom–”

“We were strangers.” And Jake realises. Oh, maybe it was possible. Maybe. Not that he’d recognise it in the heat of that moment where he was way too busy ogling at you and your things, but he’d never confess that to you. “W–well, I flirted with you,” Jake stammers.

“You said like five words to me and your face was as red as a tomato,” you shake your head, leaning into the banter you’ve come to enjoy with the boy you’ve come to love.

“Well it was nerd flirting, you know what I mean?” You let out a laugh that makes his stomach flutter and his heartbeat soften, and he wishes that that very sound could suffocate him in the morning dew and evening light.

“You’re the stupidest person ever when it comes to love,” you gasp as his hand finds the dip of your waist, pulling you closer into him, “even though you may be slick sometimes.”

“I sure hope so, because I didn’t do all that research on the dark web for nothing.” His fingers knead your skin absentmindedly over the fabric of your summer dress.

And suddenly, while he stares at you under the midnight sky, he just can’t take it anymore. He wants more, more than just looks and brushes of arms and legs and the stupid endless flirting. He wants to taste your lips and your neck and your cheeks and everything, to run his hands through your hair and feel the electricity of love rush through him as he has read in all of the books in his life. Jake wants to pull you in and never let you go.

“Kiss me,” you whisper and that was all it takes for him to kiss you like every fibre of his being was dying, and you were his medicine. 

You’ve never lost yourself in a kiss, you’ve in fact never experienced a kiss like this; pure psychedelic inebriation instead of just lips against lips. And it felt like transcendental metamorphosis as Jake licks the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of passion before delivering it back to you, over and over again.

Jake places his hands on either side of your face, and the room falls away, the space between the two of you explodes and his heart keeps missing beats, hands unable to bring you close enough to him. Jake tastes the skin of your lips and realizes that he’s been starving, his lips leaving your lips to place chaste kisses at your neck.

In that very moment you believe that his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over you like stars.

It leaves both of you panting and wanting more as Jake traces tiny little circles on the lines of your palms, heat of the moment evident through the red tips of his ears. And Jake thinks that he’s found his new obsession and he can pen it down in his notebooks that his favourite hobby would now be kissing you, holding you close, feeling your lips touch his and your limbs wrapped around him.

“Can you also read palms or something?” You ask, breath heavy as you almost shiver from the delicate dancing of his fingertips.

“I actually can,” he admits, chest heaving in similarity to you, his signature lopsided grin on his face.

You raise your eyebrows with a gentle smile, he’s so weird, you think as you play along.

“What’s does my future look like?”

And you swear, Jake’s eyes light up like a thousand fireflies, he takes in a deep breath before he speaks without hesitation, with certainty.

“It looks like us.”

It’s three in the morning and you’re laying in Jake’s arms, the warmth of his arms draped over the curve of your hips and under your head as he can’t stop placing chaste pecks around your face and down into your collarbones. 

“Jakey, it’s three in the morning, please go to sleep,” you almost have to beg your boyfriend, your eyelids heavy as the still energetic boy who has your heart doesn’t stop at your command.

“Did you know that kissing was invented from Hindu Vedic Sanskrit texts from over 3,500 years ago and was described as inhaling another's soul?” Jake whispers, trying to keep his voice down, his lips continue to press kisses along your jaw, tongue occasionally darting out to place sloppy kisses.

“You’re like a dog,” you mutter, eyes prying open to be met with Jake’s mop of bessy bed hair and glowing skin.

“You dog at least?” he tries and his heart does a victorious pump of its fist when you hum in agreement, too tired to coax him.

“You know you’re so pretty,” he sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Jakey,” you murmur, and his head leaves its place of comfort to look up at you in attention, “I’m going to inhale your soul if you don’t sleep right now, not the kiss kind.”

Jake gives you a guilty grin and it follows with moments of silence before it breaks again.

“One more thing, since we’re on the topic of dogs, would you ever adopt a dog and call her Layla?”

“Jake.” You say and he gives in at the mention of his government name, telling himself that he’ll ask you tomorrow instead when you aren’t so sleep deprived.

And unfortunately for you Jake doesn’t forget, constantly in your ear about getting a border collie with white and golden fur. “She can be our child, you know co-parenting. You could be a mom and I could be a dad, we’d be dog-married.”

“Dog married? Jakey, are you dog-trapping me?” You suggest and he shrugs, lips jutting out in habit — the type of expression he has when he wants something really bad now amplified on his face.

“Perchance, is it working?” Jake wonders aloud and you chuckle, throwing your legs over his under the shade of your designated palm tree. It seems like even during your day off, some things never change; you’re still with Jake, you’re still at the beach, and you’re still entertained by his antics.

Jake takes your legs, palms caressing over your summer skin and you sigh in relief. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

Your boyfriend takes it as a win, a goofy grin spread across his face. The checklist he made in his mind almost fully ticked, the only thing left unchecked being the part about getting married but he’ll get there, Jake’s extremely confident because he’s if he’s managed to bag the prettiest girl out of his league, even flying cars would be possible in his books.

“You’d be an amazing dog-mom for our dog-child, dog-daughter to be exact, and I’d be the best partner dog-dad. We’d be such good dog-parents, our dog-baby would look up to us.”

“Babe, it’s a pet, let’s not get carried away.” But Jake does get carried away, imagining the moments where he’d dress your joint dog-baby — Layla in accessories and clothes, pamper her with you, do everything together with the two of you. “And stop dreaming of dressing our dog-baby up in spider man accessories.”

You know him so well. 

“Have I ever told you I love you baby,” Jake tries, fingers skillfully massaging your leg.

“I love you too Jakey,” you reply, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Jake leans into it instinctively and sighs in contentment. 

“So what do you think of a spider-dog, or should I call her dog-women– dog-girl? With a mini cape and all.”

“Jake,” you deadpan and he slouches in defeat, unable to fight the use of his government name. 

“Fine, no dog-hero,” he sighs and pouts.

Three months later, you appear at Jake’s doorstep with a dog in your arms, the shiny new collar embossed with the name ‘LAYLA’ in bold, the white and golden furred border collie wearing a red mini cape. 

That night, Jake kisses you just like every other night, whispering unbeknownst dog facts that you don’t question how he knows because that’s your boyfriend — Jake in his geekish walking encyclopedia thoughts and talkative mannerisms, the most beautifully loserish nerd you’ve ever laid your eyes on who can recite the periodic table by heart but can’t seem to follow a pancake recipe, who has now chosen to abandon the spiderman plushies on his bed whenever you’re around to hug you to sleep instead, who you love with your whole heart.

Jake, though, swears it’s statistically impossible for you to love him more than he does you. Just because he gives you more kisses and in his words, kisses are the measurement units for the metric system of love, whatever that means.

You proceed to tell him to shut up (endearingly, of course) and he does, only to come back to you at the end of the week with a comparative affection count in the form of a double bar graph. It's so dorkish you can't take it seriously, making up for your loss in percentage of kisses by peppering him with more on the spot.

© SJYUNS

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Thinking about adopted au Ponyboy and how he watched Soda and his daddy tossing a dirty old baseball in front of the house.

Ponyboy was watching from the window, aching to join in but still feeling too out of place, as if he was intruding on a long standing thing between Soda and his their daddy. He couldn’t bring himself to push open the rackety door and sprint over to them, so he chose to just sit and look out the window with longing in his eyes.

Darry stood behind him, the same ache filling his own chest. He used to toss that same ball with their dad, he used to run his small body over and hug their dad after he caught a faster toss. He misses it an awful lot, but he feels too old for it now. Too old to miss throwing a dusty ball with his dad, too old to wanna spend time ruffling his little brother’s hair before throwing him onto his back and running in circles and feeling Soda’s body shake with laughter.

Darry had made his peace with the fact that he would ache for this lost feeling for maybe years. But when he saw that longing in his baby brother’s eyes, his heart hurt. He knew Ponyboy still felt outta place in their family sometimes, even with the months he’d been there. But it killed him to watch that in real time, especially when it was over something he knew Soda and Dad would be more than willing to include him in.

“You wanna go toss with ‘em?”

Ponyboy whipped around, scared that he’d been spotted. His silence was enough of an answer for Darry to pick him up and start running towards the door, tickling his sides as he heard the more and more common noise of Pony’s laughter bubbling up. He stood on the small porch step and yelled out to get the attention of the two others in the yard.

“Baby brother here wants to toss with ya!”

At his statement, Soda’s face lit up, thrilled with the fact that his baby brother wanted to do something with him instead of just Darry. Their dad smiled his signature grin, the one that reflected so clearly on his first two boys, and waved a hand over, tossing the ball to Soda again.

Soda ended up tossing the ball to Ponyboy and pretended not to notice the bittersweet smile and longing eyes on his big brother’s face. He also looked back towards his dad and missed the way Darry was slowly creeping back towards the house. If he had looked, maybe he would’ve seen the way Darry was begging with his eyes for someone to ask him to stay, to toss the ball to him and make him join in. But Soda didn’t see and Ponyboy was still to busy enjoying feeling included.

But Darrel Sr noticed. He seemed to have this sixth sense when it came to his oldest, his first boy, the son who carried his name and was damn near his carbon copy, ‘cept for his eyes, Darry had his mama’s eyes. But when Soda’s hand let go of the ball and it flew towards Pony, Darrel Sr looked away for a moment and he locked eyes with his oldest.

“Junior, I know you ain’t tryna get outta this”

His eyebrow was raised and his tone was loose and he had a goofy smile on as he beckoned Darry back over. He couldn’t help the way his heart filled when Darry’s face lit up and he trotted back over to his dad and little brothers.

Before the four of them knew it, hours had passed. The sun was going down and Ponyboy had plopped down on the bottom porch step to watch it, Darry had sat down next to him and felt his brother’s warm head fall against his arm before Darry shifted to have throw his arm around the small boy’s shoulders. Soon enough, Darrel and Soda were coming over and standing next to Darry. Darrel’s hand found its way to his first son’s shoulder and he squeezed tight before relaxing. Soda was talking away about something that Two had done earlier that was funny.

Eventually, their mama came out too, standing on the porch behind all of them and watching her boys together. Her husband, the boy who married her straight outta high school and loved her every minute. Her first son, the boy who made her a mama, who threw himself into everything he did with everything he was and was working towards getting out and riding higher than this town. Her second, the boy who’d been her baby for years, the one who clung to her from the moment he was in the world, who loved like it was all he was meant to do. Her baby, the boy who joined their family in January and she’d adored ever since, with his nose in a book and a passion for learning everything. Her boys. Her family.

An oldest son who would always protect his baby brothers. A middle son who would continue to love his brothers with his entire being. A littlest boy who may not share their blood but would always be their baby brother.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

This guitar wants to be attacked harder

Interview Richard Kruspe 'Gitarist' magazine, edition june 2025, text by Kevin Pasman, translation by Google&me

Richard Z. Kruspe is very satisfied with his signature guitar. There are a number of interesting design choices, many of which are the result of his own experiments. We spoke to Kruspe about the LTD RZK-III, about his relationship with ESP, about the switch to Kemper he recently made and about the Fender Stratocaster that he had smuggled to East Berlin in the eighties.

"I had this guitar designed from a standing position," says Kruspe. "I normally always pick my guitars from a sitting position. I first played this one live, standing up, and the shape is designed to play comfortably when you're standing.

The differences are interesting. It has a kill switch, but because I always played while sitting down, I used to have it in a different place. Much further down. When I started playing it live, I discovered that it is not comfortable to be placed there at all when you are standing. We adjusted that at the last minute."

"I feel like this guitar has a certain live feel to it. You somehow want to attack it harder than other guitars. It has a kind of 'bring it on' mentality. It wants to be played hard. It's not a jazz guitar; it wants to be riffed. It has an attitude. At least that's how I experience it."

Bend

A notable feature of the RZK-III is the recessed tune-o-matic bridge.

"Before this, I played with Floyd Rose bridges for years," Kruspe explains. "I chose that because they have a certain attack, but I didn't use the tremolo system at all. That's why I wanted to try something different this time, focusing purely on sound. This tailpiece was ultimately the best option in terms of sound of the three variants that I tried."

"There was just one problem: normally there is a crazy bend in the neck when you use a tailpiece like this. We had to find a solution for that, because it just didn't feel comfortable to me. With a Floyd Rose everything is a lot flatter and if you play it for years, you naturally get used to it."

"To imitate the light playing feel of a Floyd Rose, we came up with the idea of ​​sinking the bridge into the body. I did that here in Berlin with a good friend of mine. We figured out exactly how deep we could go into the body without affecting the sound and playing feel."

"It was a matter of trial and error. We sent the guitar that we were happy with to Japan and it was recreated there. This idea started when I was working on a video for my solo project Emigrate in 2021 and it ultimately took about four years before everything was finally in such a way that it could actually be produced."

Illegal

Kruspes signature humbuckers from Fishman can also be found in the RZK-III. For the need for humbuckers, Kruspe talks about his second guitar ever: "A Fender. That was still in East Germany, so it was completely illegal at the time. I had met someone in a cafe who brought books from the West to the East. I gave him my money - 12,000 Ostmark which I exchanged for 1200 Westmark - and I asked him if he could buy me a Stratocaster and take it with him. After that I didn't hear from him for three months. So I thought: okay, that money is gone. But then, just before Christmas, there was a suitcase on my doorstep with that Stratocaster."

"Because I had only played with humbuckers before and didn't know at all what single coils and humbuckers were at the time, I was a bit disappointed by the sound when I first played it. Nowadays at home I often play on single coils, on a Fender, because it's just fun to play Hendrix-like riffs and things like that. But the riffa that I write for Rammstein and Emigrate: those are humbucker riffs."

Tiger

Kruspe's relationship with ESP goes back to the early days of Rammstein in the mid-1990s: "It started when I was at the Frankfurter Musikmesse for the first time and saw a guitar at the ESP stand that I completely fell in love with," says Kruspe. "That was an ESP 901, which I jumped on like a tiger on its prey, haha! I've probably had that guitar in my hands ten times. It was the first guitar where I felt love at first sight."

"Because I started playing that guitar, I came into contact with Stefan Kühn, who arranged sales and distribution here in Germany. That's how the contact came about. ESP was of course already an address for hard music, or a hard way of playing, in the eighties. They were always good at improving existing designs."

Stability

Despite Rammstein's modern sounds, Kruspe has long stuck to playing with amplifiers. A few years ago he switched to Kemper.

“My equipment had become so complicated that our front-of-house friends were starting to get more and more annoyed with it,” he laughs. "No one wanted to work with me anymore, haha! I had to simplify that somehow."

"I profile all my amplifiers myself. After a lot of work and searching for the right profiles in my studio, I noticed that it works better for the people we work with because we now have the same sound every day. That is also one of the reasons why I switched to Fishman. With EMGs I had the feeling that the differences were too big. The Fishman pickups all sound exactly the same. That stability is very important to me.

"Nowadays you can actually switch from extremely clean to extremely heavy. You cannot do that with an amplifier. The advantages of a Kemper are ultimately greater than the small difference in sound that only I hear and that is becoming increasingly smaller. Taking analog equipment with you on tour became so complicated at a certain point that it was no longer in proportion,"

"When you travel with 110 trucks, it doesn't really matter whether you take analog equipment or not. But for the front-of-house engineer and the monitor engineer it's just much easier. And a lot of things happen automatically. I work with MIDI, so I no longer have to switch between sounds myself. This allows me to concentrate more on the playing itself."

"Moreover, it is of course true that you always need an amplifier to create a profile. The hardware always has to be there. But you no longer have to take it with you on tour. The advantages are gradually far more numerous than the disadvantages."

"I do still have two cabinets to create a certain sound pressure from the back. But that is more a kind of monitor system for the band itself."

Synergy

It also helps that Kruspe and his fellow guitarist Paul Landers have had a clear idea of ​​how Rammstein's guitar sound works for years. On the studio albums this is still determined by a Mesa/Boogie Dual Rectifier and a Tech21 SansAmp.

"When you hear Rammstein's sound, you just know: that is a Rectifier sound, which gets a certain presence from the SansAmp," Kruspe summarizes.

"That hasn't changed much over the years. It's not like Paul only played SansAmp and I only played Rectifier: we both work on both systems."

"We found a good synergy between these two amplifier sounds. It would sound extremely different if we were to completely separate left and right. But because it is a combined form that sounds exactly the same left and right, it comes out as one sound."

"It's not like Malcolm and Angus Young, who always play different things. Then it makes sense to play with different sounds. But if we have the same stereo image on the left and right, it works great."

--

The magazine also has a review of the LTD RZK-III by Steven Faber; some (less technical) quotes that i particularly liked:

"The neck is made of three parts of maple and continues into the body, which is further made of alder. On the rosewood fingerboard we see the well-known position marking in the shape of the Rammstein symbol and the twenty-two stainless steel extra jumblf frets are perfectly finished."

"On the back we see the RZK symbol with Richard giving us the middle finger. On the Japanese ESP version it is on the front with 'Fuck' underneath, but that had to be adjusted on this model to make it suitable for American retail chains. On the back we also find a compartment for the battery of the Fluence elements and on the headstock Kruspe's signature."

"The RZK-III is designed to be played standing up and its contoured body makes it ideal for that. If you want to sit, that's fine, but - and this applies to most asymmetrical models - there are guitars that are more ergonomic. The neck has a translucent satin finish on the back that feels very pleasant while playing. And speaking of playability: I'm a fan of Kruspe's idea to integrate the tune-o-matic into the body. It somehow gives you a feeling of control, especially when you play muted parts."

"Besides the fact that the kill switch works excellently, it is especially funny that you can reverse the working of it so that you only have sound when you press it. That sounds different and immediately gives ideas for using it creatively in combination with effects such as delay."

"With the appearance of his third signature, Richard Kruspe will appeal to a wider audience, because this guitar can just as easily be imagined in the picture of a blues band as with Rammstein on stage. It is stylish, plays well and sounds excellent. The two voicings give you a wide palette of sounds and we did not miss the tone control. A class instrument!"

--

[blogger360ncislarules]

Leverage: Redemption may have wrapped its third season, but the adrenaline, heart, and signature justice-for-the-underdog energy still linger in the minds of its devoted fans. We had the chance to sit down with executive producer Dean Devlin, who opened up about the show’s evolution, the challenges of keeping things fresh, and why Season 3 just might be the most ambitious installment yet.

A Found Family in Constant Motion

One of the standout elements of Leverage: Redemption—and of the Leverage franchise as a whole—is the found family dynamic between the crew. But as Devlin shared, what makes that family compelling isn’t just their shared history—it’s their individual growth. “These are characters who chose each other as a family,” Devlin explained. “They weren’t born into it, but they made that choice. And over the years, that bond has only grown stronger. But just because the family unit grows tighter doesn’t mean the individuals stop evolving.”

That evolution is central to Leverage: Redemption Season 3. Devlin emphasized that while the love and loyalty among the team remain steadfast, personal growth can sometimes lead to conflict. “They all have their own interests, their own fears, their own worries—and that means, sometimes, they’re pulled in different directions. That’s something we really wanted to explore this season.”

Part of what made this exploration so rich was the collaboration between writers and actors. Before the start of each season, Devlin and his team invite the cast into the writers’ room to discuss their characters’ arcs and insights. “These actors live with their characters 24/7. They know them better than we do,” he said. “Those early conversations help shape the season. It’s one of my favorite parts of the process.”

“Leverage: Redemption Meets the Moment”

While past seasons of Leverage: Redemption had a way of eerily predicting the future (remember when Hardison hacked a plane?), Season 3 took a different approach—tapping directly into the current cultural moment. “This season, we’re not looking ahead—we’re looking at now,” Devlin said. “We’re tackling hot-button issues that are front and center in people’s lives. It’s going to spark conversation.”

And true to form, the crew continues to provide hope through action—taking on powerful forces in the name of justice. “Every week, you’ll see our band of thieves helping the little guy. That’s what makes this show special.”

Devlin didn’t shy away from the truth: Leverage: Redemption Season 3 was a massive challenge to pull off. But the payoff? Worth every bit of it. “We wanted to push the limits this year,” he shared. “We still have a modest budget, but we shot an action sequence in Europe. Our ambitions were big, even if our wallet wasn’t.”

Despite those constraints, Devlin believes Season 3 is the strongest yet. “There are three episodes this year that are completely unlike anything we’ve done before. If you’re a long-time fan, you’ll get everything you love—and something new. If you’ve never seen the show, this is the best version to jump into.”

The One That Got Away

Fans love a good guest star, and Leverage has had some iconic ones. While Leverage: Redemption Season 3 brought back a few beloved faces, there’s still one character Devlin has his eye on for a triumphant return. “I’m dying to bring back Wil Wheaton as Chaos,” he confessed. “I love the actor and the character. Hopefully, if we keep going, we’ll get the chance.”

While nothing’s confirmed yet for a Season 4, Devlin’s answer about the show’s future was peak Devlin—dry humor with a wink to fans. “John Rogers and I agreed—we don’t want to overstay our welcome. So we’ve decided we’ll stop at Season 27,” he joked. “When we get there, we’ll probably call it quits.”

Sounds like there’s still a lot of lot of Leverage: Redemption left to gain. Stay tuned, Grifters—because if there’s one thing we know about this team, it’s that they’re never really done.

Leverage: Redemption Season 3 is streaming on Prime Video.

[riieeuu]

Gojo Satoru’s jealousy exists on a level entirely his own — dramatic, shameless, and spectacularly over-the-top.

It’s a display of devotion that refuses to be ignored. No matter how outrageous his antics become, you can’t deny how sweet it is — loud proof of how thoroughly, absurdly in love he is with you.

It always starts small. Maybe you laugh just a little too much at someone else’s joke — doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman. The moment your laughter lingers, Gojo’s already pouting like a sulky child. Cue the signature eye-roll, razor-sharp and immediate, fired off in the direction of the poor comedian who unknowingly triggered his wrath.

But the real giveaway? The jokes. Oh god, the jokesssss.

Gojo suddenly becomes a one-man comedy show — unleashing pun after pun, each one more questionably funny than the last. It’s the kind of humor that makes you second guess your life choices — the sort of "dad joke" energy that physically hurts. But because the two of you are hopelessly dumb in the same way, it only takes one poorly timed laugh from you — one soft giggle — and his entire face boom, lights up.

Those baby blue eyes shine with unearned triumph, the unmistakable look of a golden retriever who just brought back the ball and got praised for it.

If a guy dares to talk to you longer than a casual passing moment, brace yourself.

Gojo Satoru transforms into your very clingy shadow:

He immediately flanks you, looping his arm around your waist or gripping your hand in a possessive, koala like hold. He’ll start talking loudly about non-existent plans the two of you have together, throwing in plenty of smug smiles and not-so-subtle touches.

If it’s too formal for that — say, a work conversation — he stands directly behind you like an overprotective mother hen. You might not see it, but the poor guy you're talking to definitely notices the warning glares being fired over your shoulder like cursed bullets.

You only catch on when the man stammers through his goodbyes and makes a quick escape, forehead glistening with sweat.

You turn around slowly, already knowing what you’ll find, Gojo blinks at you with exaggerated innocence.

“I didn’t do a thing, babe. He’s just intimidated by how cool I am.”

And then came the compliments.

If someone so much as comments on your outfit, hair, or smile, it’s immediately declared a personal affront.

“She always looks good,” he’ll chime in, voice sweet and syrupy with mock innocence. “Beautiful. Lovely. Stunning. I tell her that every single day, actually.”

He finishes it off with a cartoonishly loud kiss to your cheek — dramatic, dragged out, and unapologetically showy.

“Mmmmmmwah!”

You try to push him away, face burning with secondhand embarrassment — but your laughter betrays you. He wins again. Of course he does.

And that’s when the spoiling begins.

Shoes you only mentioned once appear like magic on your doorstep. New clothes — in all your favorite colors and styles — find their way into your closet. Your favorite lipstick? Not just one, but two tubes, “just in case,” he says with a wink. It’s never about the money with him. It’s about the reminder. The persistent, unshakable message that you’re his, that he loves you more than words can ever say.

But when the audience is gone — when you’re home, just the two of you — that’s when he sulks. Hard.

You find him sprawled across the couch like a heartbroken Victorian heroine, half his face buried in a fluffy pillow, YouTube playing slowed + reverb 🥀 versions of sad songs in the background on the TV for you to see. The vibe is immaculate, in the most ridiculous wayyyy possible.

You stare. Then sigh.

“Toru,” you say, arms crossed. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or keep playing corpse?”

His voice comes muffled through the pillow.

“Mshleepingheyretonayght.”

“…What?”

Slowly, he peels his face from the cushion, lifting his head to glare at you with the most dramatic pout imaginable.

“Since you've made it very clear today that you don’t love me anymore,” he begins, tone grave, “I’ve decided I shall be sleeping here tonight. Alone. Cold. Forsaken. Lonely. Because my girlfriend is cruel. And heartless. And emotionally abusive. And has no regard for the delicate feelings of her incredibly handsome boyfriend. Did I mention I’m sleeping alone?”

It sounded more like he’s punishing himself rather than you — and the realization hits him somewhere mid-monologue.

You’re about to lean toward him, half-smiling, when he suddenly raises his index finger in your direction like a director calling “cut,” phone already in his other hand.

“Ah-ah-ah. Sorry, can’t talk right now. Someone’s calling me, urgent. I don’t have time for this.”

He answers the phone in his loudest, most obnoxiously flirty voice:

“Oh hey, pretty. Yeah, I’m definitely free tonight. Anytime, any day — you call, i answer.”

“Mm? Oh, nothing, just sitting here... lonely, heartbroken. You’ll make me feel better, won’t you?”

“Mhm. Knew i could count on you in times like these to cheer me up. Unlike some people…” he adds, throwing you a pointed side-eye.

From the other end, you can clearly hear a very tired, very unamused voice:

“Satoruu. Stop dragging me into your relationship drama.”

— Suguru Geto, clearly done with his nonsense, sounding more sleep-deprived than ever.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as Gojo throws himself back onto the couch, mourning a breakup that hasn’t happened, wallowing in non-existent heartbreak.

If he doesn’t feel like sulking out loud — which is rare — the silence goes on for days. That’s when the sticky notes make an appearance (obvi), passive-aggressive little reminders of his so-called suffering, scattered like breadcrumbs around the house.

On the fridge:

“Don’t worry. I left you some of the takeout I got yesterday. Not that you’d ever notice. :)”

On the bathroom mirror, he draws a tiny cartoon version of himself with sparkles and abs (of course with shading), next to a dramatic caption:

“A face this handsome… wasted on someone emotionally unavailable... how unfortunate.”

On his pillow, the note is simple but packed with maximum melodrama:

“This is where I used to sleep. Before betrayal.”

When you finally go over to talk to him after days of silent treatment from him, he’s in full mad-jealous mode.

He’s wearing the biggest, blackest sunglasses he owns — indoors — and refuses to look directly at you. He’s lounging on the couch like a man betrayed by fate itself, sipping something from a wine glass with his pinky raised, even though you both know he doesn’t drink alcohol.

He doesn’t say a word. Just gives you a cold, exaggerated side profile — the picture of someone trying very hard to appear emotionally unavailable, and doing a terrible job of it.

That’s Satoru Gojo for you — infuriating, dramatic, absolutely ridiculous.

And somehow, despite it all — or maybe even because of it, you love him even more for it.

Because underneath the sunglasses, the sulking, and the over-the-top antics, he’s just a man in love. Loudly, shamelessly, completely yours.

I'm literally so bored help this was at the top of my head

[nellie-elizabeth]

Starsky & Hutch LB 1x01: Pilot

okay I've done enough jumping around I'm finally gonna start watching this show from the beginning lol.

Starsky in the beanie is making me giggle, it's so not his signature look in my mind.

How is our introduction to these characters like... Starsky, instead of waiting out in the car or even just in the main part of the gym, comes into the locker room to wait while Hutch takes a shower. Seems pretty straight so far.

Also S makes the "Mom, I just met a doctor, I think he loves me" joke to the gym owner. Heterosexual behavior all over the place here.

Cute lil punch to the arm from H to S while H is still shirtless

Their banter about the girls they're dating is literally so flirty

They're already establishing that like... S&H are part of the community, the two-bit criminals know them and have a rapport with them. They let the pickpocket go...

H checking in on S, "all right, what's bugging you" they are so in lockstep

The two of them blowing off Dobey immediately is really funny.

Starsky strutting around the bar and freaking everybody out is so not a good look, though it is funny that he actually makes everybody fill out an anonymous vote

"You don't have a mother, you were found in a garbage can behind weight watchers" - yikes lol

"We're not like most partners. There's the one guy who's kinda folksy, and then there's the other guy, the hard-nosed kinda guy..... see, we're both hard-nosed" lol. Basically saying they're bad-cop-bad-cop" lol. Which is... honestly, as the show goes on Hutch is kinda the more reserved one but it holds true for the most part, they're both pretty intense

I love that the reaction shot on "we have reason to believe someone tried to kill Starsky last night" is on Hutch, we see him frowning and looking over at Starsky...

S&H being mistaken for each other for the first time lol

I love the whole convo when they're listing people who might want to kill "us", they keep saying "us" even though the current contention is that STARSKY ONLY was set to be killed

Sooo much unspoken communication, H saying they're going to switch cars and S knowing the whole reasoning for it instantly

S saying that they're willing to get killed out doing their jobs but they won't just sit back and wait...

And again with the instantly knowing each other thing... S asking H what's wrong when he gets in the car

I love them doing a "save the cat" moment for H, with him giving a dollar to a homeless man. But also I feel like the bigger purpose is again that sense that they actually know this community. They know the guy's name, and they have an ongoing relationship with him

Their utter nonchalance during the car chase lol. The slow pace of the editing and lack of music really undercuts the tension.

The repeated "he's Hutch, I'm Starsky" refrain, I like how S is the official introducer

It's the pilot and the two of them are stripping out of their clothes standing right next to each other, they really don't waste any time do they

Also love that right here in the pilot, there's a bit where a woman who works for Tallman is objectifying them, rather than them leering at women

The steam room framing where Tallman is hidden in the steam for the first part of the convo is kinda cool

But why did they bring their holsters in with them lol that's so unnecessary

S grabbing at H's arm after they almost got shot in the pool

They are shirtless so many times in this tv movie lmao. Eye candy.

"Who are we supposed to trust?" / "Same people we always trust. Us." They are really establishing them as being incredibly close and loyal to one another.

them meeting Huggy Bear in an adult movie theatre, and sitting right next to each other with S kinda sitting sideways and leaning into H a little... commenting on the soft core porn they're watching together... fellas... Also just in general we've already got S establishing the habit of never being able to sit like a normal person, very bisexual of him.

"Starsky, I don't like to talk to cops about cops" - fair, Huggy Bear. Very fair.

Antonio Fargas (Huggy) is a beautiful man... his eyes have such a sparkle to them...

I love that S & H take turns being the smart ones who figure out the situation, H figures out the Fat Rolly phone call thing, and then S figures out the hit men didn't miss and the kids from the beginning were the real target. And they both believe each other's hunches

The murdered woman's roommate being suspicious of cops... "lots of cops say stuff like that"... and then Starsky "I hope you know the difference between the ones that really know the melody and those that are just saying the words." I mean, not to give too much credit to this copaganda-ass cop show, but I kind of love that S doesn't say "hey, cops are the good guys" but instead says that no, in this case THEY are sincere, even though they're well aware that cops aren't in it for the right reasons all the time. They're very willing to believe that there's corruption going on inside, after all. And there is!

Their chemistry just as like... scene partners is nuts. I keep thinking how the editing and pacing of this is so much slower and more ponderous than anything would be on tv today, but the scene where S & H are going back and forth and putting together the clues about Henderson, they're so locked in that I'm riveted anyway.

S's arm on the back of H's seat in the car when H is driving... I feel like from the other eps I've seen this is a typical pose lol

THEM GETTING PULLED OVER and S getting mistaken for H AGAIN lol.

"Seven, seven, come on seven... thank god." LMAO.

Hutch denting the roof of his own car jumping down onto it is amazing

The COMPLETE lack of blood on the bad guys after they're shot... lol

I also love how like... aesthetically, S is the more sloppy, slouchy, salt-of-the-earth of the two, but H is the one with the busted up car, and he can't pay his gym bill and makes Starsky cover him lol. S even says "again?!" like this is a regular occurrence of S needing to spot H money

I love that the ending gag is H not following S in his car, but then more than that, it's S clocking it immediately and turning around to follow H instead. The idea of not going to get dinner together is apparently not one S is willing to entertain at this time lmao.

Overall thoughts - I'm shocked by how fully established the characters feel in this pilot movie, like, these characters already feel so lived in and embodied by the performers. Their natural chemistry with each other, their physicality, especially Starsky's way of moving around the world, kinda knocking into stuff everywhere he goes and taking up all this space, it feels like a character that's been lived in for a long time. Their little personality quirks, with H being a health nut, etc... it all feels grounded and a lot more nuanced and filled out than I was expecting for the first appearance of these characters! It really feels like if you watched this after seeing later episodes of the show (which is what I'm doing) you wouldn't necessarily clock that this was the first time these characters had ever appeared. Although, of course, a few small details like the different actor for Dobey is a clue that we're not settled into status quo yet.

The other big thing I noticed was the establishing them as being really good at their jobs, and really pragmatic about the world - they play heroes and get into car chases and shootouts or whatnot, but they've got like... regular bits with street informants and people doing petty crime, they joke about having arrested the woman from the soft core movie they see, Hutch gives money to the homeless man Elijah who then goes off to offer to buy lunch for someone else living on the streets, we've got the bar scene where it's clear that everybody in that joint is familiar with S&H, and maybe doesn't like them, but also isn't like... afraid of them. They might both be tough, but they're not arbitrary or cruel for no reason, and they have a reputation, they're familiar faces around the watering hole. Honestly the vibe is very much that S&H are staples of this environment, not inimical outsiders who pose obstacles to the goings-on. I like that vibe for this kind of thing, even though I'm also aware it's contributing to the copaganda of it all, ultimately.

This was fun, I'm not sure I'll actually live blog every episode this thoroughly but I'll try and share additional thoughts as I go! I'm going to use #shlb as a tag for myself for these in case anybody wants to check them out as I go.

[liverwisteria]

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

CREEPYPASTA HOBBIES/ WHAT THEY DO ON THEIR FREE TIME! Part one!

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Mentioned (in orde): Jeff The Killer, Sally Williams, Clockwork, Jane Richardson, and Ticci Toby.

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JEFF THE KILLER

✮ The Killer! His hobbies are mostly art related, he has a creative mind mixed in with all that rage and the need to kill.

✮ His drawings are in fact actually very good. Shocking…he has multiple unfinished sketchbooks because he gets bored of them so easily (Wisteriatoo) they’re all somewhere in his closet.

✮ With drawing he also enjoys painting. He painted his walls! Not like one color, I mean painted random designs he thought were cool. Swirls, stars, skulls, bones, whatever edgy and emo. He also paints the handle to his knives! He has a knife collection cause the other proxies gift him nothing but knives.

✮ I have a headcanon that if he’s really fucking bored he goes out into the city, or deeper into the woods. Finding an empty wall and spray painting! He paints big ass murals, really detailed ones. Do they have meaning? Probably not. This is still Jeff. He just lets his mind wonder while his hands do the work.

✮ After he’s finished with a mural he leaves a smiley face in the corner. It’s his silly signature.

✮ When he was a kid he wanted to become an astronaut. Wanted to reach the stars. Maybe it had something to do with just how religious his parents were, or maybe he just wanted to get away. But! Now he doesn’t care about becoming an astronaut, he does however enjoys stars.

✮ (No it is not because Wisteria also loves stars) (No Liver is not projecting) (Shhhh.)

✮ Anyways! He doesn’t like talking about this part of him out loud. He likes to keep that part buried away. But occasionally you can find the killer looking at the stars, finding the constellations in a second, and just smiling. He likes drawing them in his sketchbook :)

✮ Napping.

✮ He’s a mega nerd when it comes to music and bands. Likes analyzing lyrics and researching about band members just for the fun of it. Who doesn’t want to find some shocking shit about someone?

✮ Of course with this he has his own instrument…An electric fucking guitar. It’s red and black and kept in good condition. Polished and sparkling. Has little stickers he found on it for the aesthetic.

✮ The guitar isn’t just for show! He knows how to play, and it’s awesome! Just like the stars he keeps this hidden too. Sighs.

✮ And the last bit of is that he does his hair, nails and makeup by himself! Whatever he’s in the mood for. For nails sometimes it’s like normal nail polish, and other times he gets those like nude colored press one and paints his own little designs on them! And adds charms.

Alright. Liver can yap about this killer for ages. But let’s move on.

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SALLY WILLIAMS

ʚ♡ɞ Wisteria’s favorite poltergeist! Hazzuh! Her hobbies have lots of pink and cute things, uh-huh.

ʚ♡ɞ Because she’s a kid, she has a lot of free time! She doesn’t get sent to missions that often. Sooo, she usually hangs around the other mansion kids! They either do nothing or plan a big mansion event.

ʚ♡ɞ She has a lot of plushies! So she has her own little tea parties in her room with them. Mr. Death being the most important one there obviously.

ʚ♡ɞ Sally took up art from Jeff! She’s trying to get better at it, because she looks up to Jeff like a little sister. Sometimes she draws with him! They do those silly art challenges.

ʚ♡ɞ She learned how to play the piano! Jane taught her! She practices on her own or plays the ones Jane taught her. Other times she just messes around with the notes! She forced Slenderman to listen to her once. It was beautiful.

ʚ♡ɞ Pranks…Sally is a sweet ghost. She doesn’t like people getting hurt…unless they deserve it. But! She does like doing small pranks on the proxies with Ben! Those two are either plotting something together or against each other or neither.

ʚ♡ɞ They once locked Nurse Ann and Judge Angels in a freezer together. That was fun. (/RP REF)

ʚ♡ɞ Sally dresses up the male proxies for fun. They don’t have a choice…most if not all of them have been dressed up by her.

ʚ♡ɞ Makeup!!! She loves doing her makeup!!! But not like a full face…just the basics. She goes to Jeff when she needs help learning how to use a new product.

ʚ♡ɞ Sally can bake! Cookies, cake, brownies, etc etc. Her favorite thing to do when she’s feeling upset or just wants to make baked goods for her friends! She is required to have an adult with her after the last time she nearly blew up the oven.

ʚ♡ɞ She is such a silly gal…hehe.

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CLOCKWORK

⟡ Wisterias beautiful gorgeous amazing badass Clockwork!!!

⟡ Clockwork has a work out schedule! She works out at the same time everyday. But it’s not just like basic work outs…she also trains with the dummies Slenderman brought. She’s always trying to improve her skills!

⟡ She’s a chef! Decided to learn how to cook one day out of boredom. First it was just cooking soup and soup and even more soup…but eventually she moved on and can make nice meals!

⟡ Clockwork’s an artist too. When she can’t act on her impulsive thoughts—or if she’s trying to hold back, she sketches them. They end up being a bit bloody…but hey. It gets the job done.

⟡ But she also makes lots of drawings of Jane! Her wife :)

⟡ Big fan of Bob Ross (has his face glued on her wall) She binge watches all his videos. Something about that man.

⟡ If Clockwork has time to spare for the day she goes around and checks on the proxies she likes. Just making sure they’re fine before heading off to bed.

⟡ Hunting! Not like, chasing victims. But animal hunting! Clockworks skilled in that area, knows how to stay low and quiet and where to aim and shoot. Though Liver supposes she also uses this method on her victims.

⟡ Wisteria likes imagining she likes fixing things or doing things that involve screws and parts…Liver wants it to connect to her name! Inventor? No? Shrug! Liver will eventually figure it out.

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JANE THE KILLER

☾ JANEEE!!! GOTH MOTHER!!! Liver hearts her so much.

☾ Jane spends most of her days avoiding the other mansion residents as she considers most if not all of them to be…well. Annoying. She barely tolerates them.

☾ She cleans the mansion up! Something to keep herself busy, and because the proxies end up making the mansion dirty again after a day. Jane does not want to live in filth, so she will make sure every room is clean enough.

☾ She also does laundry and organizes the fridge. Again. Anything to keep herself busy.

☾ Jane likes journaling at the end of the day! She writes down what she did, what she thought throughout the day, and small little notes about Clockwork! Just things she notices and finds cute or concerning.

☾ There’s a piano in the main hallway. Jane likes playing it—not to show off, but because she genuinely enjoys the sound. It’s not calming or flawless, but there’s something about the notes that just feels… nice.

☾ She has a small area in her room where she keeps photos of her family. She leaves offerings every few days.

☾ She reads a lot of books! Jane and some other proxies have formed sort of book club, so when she has time she reads the book they’re all on!

☾ Along with journaling she also does those like really creative and put together scrap books. The ones that are detailed and very cute. She keeps a theme for every book!

☾ Crocheting! Just a small hobby she does when there’s nothing else really. Shes still in the beginning stages though.

☾ Jane likes making small things for her amazing spouse, Clockwork! Sometimes it’s cookies, other times it’s a crocheted little thing that reminds her of Clocky. They are so cute. Sigh.

☾ Visiting her families grave is also something she does. The graveyard is far from the woods, which is why she only goes when she knows she won’t be busy for a few days. She does wish she could visit it more often.

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TICCI TOBY

❂ Lord oh man. Chaotic, reckless, stupid energy. That is all Wisteria is going to say.

❂ Toby doesn’t enjoy being alone for too long, which is why he’s always around someone. His best pals! Or his beautiful girlfriend, Nina.

❂ Not only does he like spending time with them but it’s just better than being alone with the occasional hallucinations he gets. Sighs.

❂ But! When he is alone, or when there is that rare moment where he wants to be alone, he goes out for long walks. Usually around the woods, but sometimes he takes it to the city.

❂ He tries avoiding the city though, because he always gets distracted by the tiniest of things. He could just be minding his own business one minute and then robbing an entire store because an item reminded him of one of his buddies.

❂ Liver has a headcanon that Toby just enjoys climbing up on things. So sometimes he’s literally just chilling on top of a tree, might be napping, might be stalking. He’s gotten exceptionally good at it. Shudders.

❂ He also enjoys being an annoying little guy. He doesn’t go out of his way to purposely annoy people, but if he has the chance to, he will be doing it.

❂ Oh! Toby started a stupid podcast, so when he has time he tries coming up with ideas the fans might enjoy. (/RP REF) Its so stupid it’s funny.

❂ The little fucker also enjoys doing things that might make him break a bone. Reckless behavior at its finest. He tried learning new skate boarding tricks, just for the fun of it. (He’s failed multiple times) (Someone help him)

❂ His favorite hobby is not standing still for more than a minute. He has to be doing something, even if it’s just talking with someone.

❂ Occasionally when there’s nothing else to do, he goes up to Slenderman’s office and just yaps. Nothing but just yapping about everything and nothing. He talks about what he did the past week about caring if Slenderman is even listening (he’s not).

❂ He likes listening to music, his favorite bands. Not on loud speakers, Wisteria think he’d really like listening to them wearing headphones! Maybe like those noise canceling ones. He’s in his own headspace! Hehe.

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RAHHHHH THATS ALL WISTERIA HAS FOR PART ONE!!! Let Liver know who Liver should add to part two. Hehe.

If you guys could not tell Wisteria really loves Jeff Da Killer. Sighssss. He is livers favorite pasta. >:)

BUT ANYWAYS! THANK YOU FOR READING! CYA!

- Wisteria out!

[flowerakatsuka]

after trying to figure out his design for awhile, i finally finished a reference for kuroba's granddad, chouji!

[ more info under the cut! ]

YOTSUBANA CHOUJI ( first name meaning clove )

~ 70 years old • he / him • 6'2" ( 188 cm )

Kuroba's maternal grandfather and the previous florist at Yotsubana Florals. He opened the shop with his late wife, Hibiki, but after her passing and experiencing a severe fall at work, he retired and Kuroba took over the daily operations of the store. Currently, he lives with Kuroba's parents in Yokohama and checks in on them every other month, ( they talk over the phone almost daily, though. ) Despite his grumpy appearance, Chouji is actually pretty level-headed and kind. He can be fairly stubborn at times, though. Kuroba and him are very close, especially after Hibiki's passing. They respect him quite a lot as their grandfather and their mentor. His accident at the store rattled them quite a lot and lead to them fretting over him a lot more.

Born and raised in Akatsuka, but both of his parents were from Osaka.

Met Hibiki and fell in love at first sight while visiting Okinawa to study Okinawan Hibiscus, which her family was a supplier of.

His cat, Giku, was a former stray that hung around the shop near the time Hibiki passed. Eventually, she refused to leave the store so Chouji took her in. Her coloring reminded him of daisies, which were one of Hibiki's favorite flowers. Because of that, he also says that she sent her to keep an eye on him.

He started taking care of the family's garden when he moved to Yokohama, as well as getting really into tending to bonsai. Giku is the garden's " guardian " and chases off beetles that try to munch on their plants.

Karamatsu was EXTREMELY intimidated by Chouji when they first met, but they actually hit it off pretty quickly, ( especially when Karamatsu showed a lot of interest in hearing about Hibiki and his love story. ) He's grown kind of fond of him, which makes sense since Kuroba and him are pretty similar. Also, he's started looking into getting a Dwarf Blue Larix bonsai. No particular reason why.

Kuroba typically calls him Ochoujii-san, but will sometimes drop the honorific.

[toasteaa]

Actually, I'm curious: whenever you think about, write, draw, etc. your fave and/or your f/o, do you give them any specific quirks? Behavioral quirks, speech patterns, habits that they may have always had or slowly picked up from you?

[hauntingblue]

Hody should have known to shut up before saying he wants to be pirate king.... now it's personal

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[silverskyeline]

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ THE KING  ₊ ⊹ .

(boxer!sukuna x reader)

⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;

:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.

this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 19K+

Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek. 

It's rare for him to look this battered after a match. 

He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.  

He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"

Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare. 

He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win. 

He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to. 

Thankfully, his manager just sighs. 

"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him. 

"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?" 

Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of  his things. 

The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space. 

They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.  

His chest seizes at the thought. 

He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably. 

The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace. 

He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted. 

"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..." 

Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..." 

Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat. 

God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses. 

"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually." 

Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring. 

"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…

There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him. 

But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it. 

"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me." 

He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager. 

The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment. 

"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?" 

"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?" 

"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"

"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"  

Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down. 

Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room. 

That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.  

"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say. 

The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed. 

Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark. 

They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out. 

But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now. 

He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo. 

Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over. 

"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night." 

He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit. 

A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena. 

Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call. 

"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..." 

"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them." 

"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer." 

"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies. 

Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.

Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well. 

Especially tonight. 

"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna. 

The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes. 

You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.

  The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you. 

You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend. 

Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground. 

You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...." 

You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug. 

He didn’t want to let go just yet. 

And truthfully, neither do you. 

"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue. 

"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest. 

₊ ⊹ .

The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow. 

"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious. 

"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..." 

"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press. 

"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin. 

You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..." 

"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..." 

He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both. 

The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you. 

Ryomen Sukuna. 

The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help. 

Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp"  because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him. 

Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore. 

Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place. 

However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then. 

He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again. 

You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior. 

"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”

You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears. 

You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him. 

"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet. 

He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts. 

"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him. 

You assisted in brushing the dust off him. 

"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly. 

He nodded his head quietly. 

You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself. 

"I know who you are, I'm not stupid." 

You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were." 

The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment. 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid." 

"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth. 

"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?" 

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said. 

"Friends?" 

"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!" 

He nervously gripped the hem of his tee. 

He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.

You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since. 

₊ ⊹ .

You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend. 

At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you. 

You shivered thinking of the last time that happened. 

It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life. 

The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better. 

Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone. 

Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time. 

Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely. 

“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..." 

"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?" 

You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..." 

It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story. 

Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end. 

His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen. 

He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked. 

You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon. 

Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine. 

The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet. 

The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.

“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…” 

Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy. 

And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief. 

“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.

The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside. 

Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor. 

This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner. 

He’s dimmed. 

A bulb that’s flickering. 

Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern. 

₊ ⊹ .

Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head. 

At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.  

He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over. 

The athlete that people admired.

His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.

Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else. 

Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you. 

It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming. 

Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that. 

Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around. 

However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out. 

It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six. 

One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.

“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity. 

Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should. 

“W-what?” You stammered. 

“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.  

“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?” 

Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head. 

“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement. 

Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring. 

“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate. 

You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter. 

“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to. 

He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…” 

That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using. 

“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…” 

“And what if he finds out?” 

Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…” 

That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing. 

The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust. 

Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces. 

When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna. 

However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates. 

His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips. 

Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity. 

He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements. 

“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else. 

There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face. 

Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere. 

“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom. 

You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people. 

Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet. 

“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…” 

“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out. 

“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better. 

“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder. 

“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward. 

You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle. 

He pulled away. 

“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed. 

“Do you want to try?” He asked. 

Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past. 

It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces. 

“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs. 

The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp. 

His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end. 

Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell. 

“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare. 

He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state. 

“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?” 

Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response. 

Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened. 

But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again. 

He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.

It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake. 

You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world. 

You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips. 

It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you. 

Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry. 

He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it. 

But not this time. 

You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse. 

Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.” 

“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed. 

“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…” 

You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile. 

“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression. 

“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone. 

“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.” 

“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…” 

He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship. 

“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.” 

You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes. 

“Why?” You said with a light laugh.  

Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…” 

You laughed at that. 

“Everything with you is a competition…” 

“Not everything…” 

You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?” 

“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?” 

You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!” 

“You stay a pain in my ass…” 

You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…” 

Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…” 

“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly. 

Sukuna shook his head. 

“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence. 

You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes. 

“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment. 

“Anything”

“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you… 

The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face. 

It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction. 

“Oh…” 

“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light. 

“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest. 

“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…” 

You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected. 

You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous. 

If you were an option in his head��why didn’t he just ask? 

₊ ⊹ .

. 

Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time. 

You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.

Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence. 

You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”. 

“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm. 

“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…” 

“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…” 

It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.

You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass. 

One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”. 

All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up. 

Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass. 

For some reason, it put a strain on your heart. 

You guys really weren’t kids anymore. 

This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight. 

“The King”

Time moved at double speed after that. 

Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.

The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids. 

This time, it wasn’t awkward. 

You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point. 

You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué. 

You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear. 

Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together. 

You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation. 

“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.

You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had. 

“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap. 

“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple. 

You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…” 

“That kid’s already spoiled…”

“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…” 

Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows. 

“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile. 

“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this. 

He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame. 

“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you. 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career. 

At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen. 

He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven. 

He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable. 

You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur. 

He was strong, but agile. 

Brutal but swift with his movements. 

He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength. 

Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed. 

Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. 

Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.

At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji. 

Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences. 

When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were. 

You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped. 

Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star. 

You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach. 

Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person. 

And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.

At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him. 

He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal. 

But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world. 

After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public. 

You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her. 

At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon.  You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before. 

“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone. 

“The four of us?” He questioned. 

“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…” 

“Yeah, and he hates me…” 

“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”

“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…” 

You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom. 

“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…” 

“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away. 

“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!” 

He groaned. 

You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all.  I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…” 

Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone. 

“Can you say something?” You begged. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...” 

You smiled, “dinner is perfect!” 

At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success. 

The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken. 

That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise. 

Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak. 

It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else. 

Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.

You burst into tears at the sight of him.

He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way. 

One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines. 

Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning. 

Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories. 

You gasped and hiccuped into his chest. 

“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…” 

Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…” 

The comment made you choke out a laugh. 

“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…” 

“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it” 

₊ ⊹ .

The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else. 

That video made your blood boil. 

You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty. 

You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself. 

That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act. 

And Sukuna was no coward. 

Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that. 

You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be. 

He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained. 

“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello. 

“Ryo, of course I know that-” 

“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”

“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”

He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”  

Your stomach tightened. 

“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.” 

Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo. 

You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him. 

When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.

The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.

She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.  

You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated. 

This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction. 

He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat. 

The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint. 

His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare. 

The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash. 

His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning. 

They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that. 

The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion. 

You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks  towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.

“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…” 

“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration. 

The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red. 

He wasn’t himself. 

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

This was impacting him.  

You getting involved in this was impacting him. 

“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…” 

The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief. 

It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt. 

“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…” 

He furrowed the front of his brows. 

“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?” 

“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever. 

“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.” 

“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be” 

“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"

The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return. 

The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.

It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying. 

As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between. 

The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable. 

He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up. 

Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast. 

His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him. 

Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public. 

The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.

On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume. 

“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.” 

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. 

“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly. 

Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…” 

“So, why are you calling me?” 

“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…” 

Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?” 

“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?” 

You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.” 

“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…” 

“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile. 

“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly. 

“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought. 

That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.

₊ ⊹ .

Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.

It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be. 

This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship. 

You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke. 

“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-” 

He swung the door open and froze. 

“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!” 

Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost. 

“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…” 

He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless. 

You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck. 

“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…” 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line. 

He looked…upset. 

Was he not happy to see you? 

“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…” 

You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.

He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder. 

“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving. 

You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast. 

Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare. 

“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…” 

“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…” 

Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…” 

“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.” 

“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips. 

“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!” 

You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest. 

“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped. 

You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him. 

You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance. 

You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him. 

You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break. 

He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most. 

“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow. 

His jaw twitched. 

“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…” 

Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin. 

You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen. 

“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…” 

He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead. 

Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern. 

You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist. 

“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness. 

“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused. 

“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night.  Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty. 

Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly. 

“C’mere…” 

Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging. 

You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin. 

“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm. 

You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink. 

He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks. 

“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…” 

You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…” 

“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.” 

“So, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…” 

You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.

“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his. 

Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.” 

You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne. 

Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself. 

“Why won’t you tell me?” 

He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him. 

“Ryomen…” 

“Don’t push me, brat…” 

“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…” 

He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through. 

Your heart tightened. 

You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace. 

“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled. 

Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing. 

“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.” 

“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment. 

He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…” 

Your body froze. 

“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…” 

You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.  

“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?” 

The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover. 

“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…” 

Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him. 

“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.” 

“But-” 

“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”

His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress. 

“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."

“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-” 

“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…” 

He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.” 

But love… 

That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.

You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old. 

Wondering…

Considering…

“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you. 

You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress. 

“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled. 

Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject. 

“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh. 

“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.  

“Cute for me?” He coaxed. 

“Cute in general,” you remarked. 

His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.

“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit. 

The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.

His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…” 

He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise. 

“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…” 

Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge. 

“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs. 

He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth. 

“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together. 

But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away. 

Sukuna purred. 

“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…” 

“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head. 

“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?” 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more. 

“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses” 

“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed. 

“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.

There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief. 

“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.

“If you even call it a dress…” 

“Can’t handle a little skin?” 

“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor. 

“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.

You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble. 

“We had too much champagne,” you informed. 

“That we did” 

“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt. 

“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin. 

You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…” 

“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises. 

“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?” 

Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with. 

To keep things fair. 

To keep it…playful. 

Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact. 

You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats. 

Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction. 

You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear. 

“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…” 

Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…” 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers. 

“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly. 

Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.  

“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…” 

Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip. 

Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction. 

“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…” 

You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation. 

“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear. 

Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric. 

You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side. 

You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in. 

“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively. 

“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…” 

With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart. 

He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at. 

You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy. 

“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder. 

It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead. 

“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp. 

The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub. 

Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back. 

It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin. 

“The felt really good,” you breathily whined. 

He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly. 

You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.

When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours. 

“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member. 

“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction. 

You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth. 

“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh. 

“Let me show you.” 

He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft. 

“Go on then,” he tempted. 

Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further. 

You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment. 

“Why stop there?” You rebutted. 

You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself. 

The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes. 

When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms. 

Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.

A puzzle piece finally connecting. 

He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made. 

Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night. 

His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard. 

His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks. 

You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend. 

He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours. 

You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more. 

He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists. 

“More,” you cried desperately without thinking. 

Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged. 

You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this. 

You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care. 

Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy. 

“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for. 

But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present. 

You were a mess, and so was he. 

Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.  

“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant. 

Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk. 

He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly. 

“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more. 

You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…” 

Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.” 

You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?” 

“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between. 

“You love me…” you breathed. 

“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…” 

Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat. 

“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."

You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.

He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.

“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo” 

“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.

“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…” 

Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene. 

“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.

He glanced at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."

Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked. 

A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me” 

“That I do” he responds

You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."

₊ ⊹ .

One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown. 

He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you. 

“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles. 

You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest. 

The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night. 

Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift. 

For one, Sukuna was a flirt. 

You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true.  There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious. 

You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold. 

You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly. 

The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago. 

Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration. 

He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press. 

They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.

He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence. 

“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…” 

You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?” 

Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen. 

“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased. 

You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone. 

“Ha-ha…” you remarked. 

“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…” 

You arched your brow. “And what might that be?” 

He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...” 

Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip. 

“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat. 

“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him. 

He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you. 

You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too. 

The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason. 

Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired. 

“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…” 

The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.

You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face. 

The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more. 

You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.

“I need to tell you something,” 

You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him. 

You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak. 

“I nearly threw the fight tonight.” 

You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession. 

“You…what?” 

Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you. 

“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”

You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy. 

“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…” 

“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard. 

It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight. 

But it didn't.

You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down. 

“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?” 

Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth. 

“I just want you,” he hums. 

“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.” 

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…” 

A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…” 

Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means. 

Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.

From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.

You have always remained solidly by his side.

His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.

“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time. 

“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips. 

There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.

You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms. 

He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy. 

You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out. 

He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly. 

And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion. 

Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab  his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank. 

A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy. 

News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications. 

He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony. 

He calls Uraume. 

Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do. 

“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say. 

“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.” 

The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds. 

“I had a feeling you were going to say that…” 

“is that why it took you long to answer my call?” 

Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…” 

“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with. 

Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…” 

Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…” 

Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.” 

“And then what?” 

“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…” 

“And what about you?” 

Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..” 

Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…” 

Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?” 

“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...” 

“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.” 

He hears you then. 

You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~” 

He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom. 

“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.” 

He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside. 

The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame. 

“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body. 

“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace. 

“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.

It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.

A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness. 

₊ ⊹ .

:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags (only tagging those who asked): @after-laughter-come-tears @not-9ok @axxk17 @sukubusss @lavenderdaydream97 @charlie-xo @kunasthiast @celestep004 @brownskinnedgirll @sukunasweetheart @kunascutie @joontroverted @emi311 @yuujispinkhair @starmapz @bellyei