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zosin-ya · 2 days ago

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15 - ꜰʟᴇᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ

Summary: It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown. Tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, dinner with his parents, father son convo, talks about your future, sfw

a.n: I really need to stop apologizing for showing up randomly and late — it’s become a habit. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter; there’s some sweet fluff waiting for you at the end.

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

"Crazy how the weather can change so much..." you muttered quietly, gazing out the window of the sea train as it sped toward the icy North Blue. The once-clear skies had darkened, and the air inside the cabin felt colder with every passing mile.

"Have you even seen snow before?"

You turned to Law, unimpressed, only to be met with his signature smug grin.

"Of course I have. Have you ever seen the sun?"

Law rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted in his seat, settling in more comfortably. The trip back to his hometown never really bothered him—if anything, he found it strangely soothing. The vast, open sea stretching out on either side of the train and the steady rhythm of the waves as they sliced through the water helped quiet the usual noise in his mind.

"...Are you nervous?"

You knew exactly what he meant. With a slow exhale, your gaze drifted back to the window. “The first meeting with your parents wasn’t exactly… ideal.”

“Would it help if I told you they’re probably just as nervous?”

“You sure?”

“Mom? Definitely. Dad? ...Less so. But yeah, he’s probably overthinking it too.”

His tone was easy, but there was something grounding in it—reassuring in a way only he could be. You weren’t doing this alone. Not this time. He was here, beside you.

You hummed softly, mostly to yourself, leaning back in your seat. Eyes half-lidded, you tried to let the steady rhythm of the train, the gentle sway and the muted hum of the tracks, lull you into something resembling calm. If nothing else, you could at least enjoy the ride.

After hours of swaying train cars, muffled conversations, and the steady clatter of wheels over rails, the sea train finally rolled into Flevance station with a sigh of brakes and a hiss of steam.

You stepped onto the platform, the weight of the long journey still clinging to your limbs. Law followed close behind, hauling both your bags like it was nothing. And then the cold hit—sharp and immediate, slicing through every layer you wore. Your breath caught. Goosebumps flared across your skin. No matter how many coats or scarves you packed, the North had a way of reaching right through them.

From the corner of your eye, you could feel Law watching you.

You turned just in time to catch his expression—one part amusement, one part smugness. Of course he was fine. Dressed like it was fall instead of the dead of winter: jeans, a hoodie, a beanie slouched over his hair. No coat. No gloves. Not even a flinch.

“Cold?” he asked, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped ahead with an easy, practiced stride—like he’d never left this place.

You tugged your scarf up higher, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What? No. I’m great, actually.”

He threw a glance over his shoulder that said he didn’t believe a word of it.

“Good,” he drawled, shifting the bags with practiced ease. “Because if you’re not cold, we could just walk. My parents’ place isn’t far. Thirty minutes on foot. Max. You’ll love it—especially dodging the black ice. Wouldn’t want you cracking that pretty head open.”

You laughed, breath puffing out in white wisps. The snark was ready on your tongue—but then you saw it, just as you exited the train station and stepped on the pavement together.

Flevance.

The city stretched out before you, blanketed in pristine snow. Under the pale winter sunlight, the buildings gleamed like they’d been dusted with powdered sugar. The air was sharp and clean, and everything seemed… quiet. Not empty, just still. Like the snow had softened the edges of the world.

You stood there for a moment, letting your gaze wander. You could almost picture it: a much smaller Law, trudging through these streets with hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, collar turned up against the wind.

Your eyes shifted away from the city slowly. Off to the side, a neat row of taxis waited along the curb, each one idling quietly, their drivers leaned back in their seats with practiced patience. The thought of sliding into a warm car, letting the heater blast against your frozen hands—it was dangerously tempting.

But Law wasn’t about to make this easy.

“Or,” he said, tipping his head toward the line of cabs as he continued his tease from before, “you wanna admit defeat and grab a taxi, Miss ‘I’m not cold at all’?” The grin on his face was downright evil.

You rolled your eyes, teeth chattering just a little.

“…Fine,” you muttered. “It’s cold. Taxi it is.”

He chuckled as if he’d won a battle, and helped you load your things into the trunk. Law took the front seat, chatting casually with the driver, while you sank gratefully into the back. The heater kicked in almost immediately, thawing your fingers as the city began to slip past the window.

The bustling heart of Flevance faded as the car wound its way into quieter, more refined neighborhoods. The streets grew wider. The homes, grander. Space became a luxury—and here, it was everywhere. Snow clung to wrought-iron gates and lined stone walkways like frosting on a cake.

You pressed your cheek lightly against the cold glass, watching it all pass by.

It was a different world for you.

And for the first time since arriving, you felt like you were stepping into Law’s story—not just hearing about it, but walking the same streets, breathing the same air.

Even if it was way too cold.

The car eased to a stop in front of an estate that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread, letting you two exist and grab your luggage. The house stretched wide and elegant across the snowy landscape, its grand façade framed by tall iron gates and carefully sculpted hedges now dusted with snow. As the driver pulled away, the cold crept back in, and you stood there for a moment beside Law, your breath fogging in the icy air.

You tilted your head, arms folded tight against the chill. “You know,” you said, eyeing the long driveway leading up to the house, “you can always tell how rich someone is by how far the front door is from the gate.”

Law arched a brow, already pressing the doorbell. “Never understood the appeal of a long-ass driveway anyway.”

You gave him a sidelong look, grinning. “To show off how rich you are, obviously.”

He glanced at you, deadpan. “You can sleep outside in the snow if you keep that shit going.”

The gate buzzed and clicked open, and you let out a quiet chuckle as you both stepped through.

The walk to the front door was slow and cautious, the stone path slick with ice in places. You shuffled forward, trying to maintain dignity while not landing flat on your cheeks. Law, naturally, walked like the ice didn’t even exist.

At the door, warm light spilled out as it opened to reveal two smiling figures: Lea and Matheo, bundled in sweaters and radiating that familiar warmth of parents who’d been waiting by the window. As soon as you stepped inside, a wave of heat wrapped around you, so comforting it was almost overwhelming.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lea said, pulling Law into a hug so tight he had to shift your bags to one arm. “It’s so lovely to see you again. You really should visit more often.”

Law looked vaguely cornered, but you caught the faintest tug of a smile on his lips.

Matheo turned to you with a kind expression. “It’s nice to see you too, Y/N.” His voice was soft, like he was trying to bridge something left unspoken since the ceremony. You appreciated it more than you let on.

“Thank you for having me,” you said, still thawing out. “I’m definitely not used to this kind of cold.”

“Oh right, winters aren’t like this in the East, are they? I nearly forgot,” Lea said, finally letting go of her son and turning her full attention to you. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

She ushered you through the entryway, where your boots and jacket were quickly replaced with cozy slippers. As you followed her into the house, your eyes roamed curiously, taking in the space. This was Law’s childhood home. You’d imagined it before, but seeing it was something else entirely.

It was elegant, no doubt—high ceilings, tasteful décor, furniture that looked like it belonged in an art gallery. But there were touches of real life scattered everywhere: slightly crooked photo frames, kids’ drawings still taped to the walls, worn out books messily scattered on every possible surface.

It wasn't just a house, but a home...

The living room gave way to a sprawling kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a warm blanket. You took a deep breath, already starting to feel your fingers again. Through the wide glass door leading into the garden, you spotted something that made you blink: a barbecue grill, smoke rising into the frozen air.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait… are we actually grilling?”

Law smirked. “Forgot to mention that?”

Lea handed you a mug, her laughter warm. “This is the North—we adapt.”

You cradled the coffee gratefully, inhaling the steam. “We’ll have to do it in the East one day. I’ll show you how to grill without frostbite.”

“We'd love that,” Lea chuckled and looked at her husband, who nodded in agreement with a smile. He was already shrugging into his jacket, which had been draped over a kitchen chair. He moved with an easy calm, but there was something deliberate in the way he glanced at his son.

“Law, give me a hand out there?”

“Sure dad.”

He gave you a quick look, like he was checking in before heading off. “Wanna come outside or stay warm with Mom?”

You laughed, hugging your coffee to your chest. “I’ve made enough bad life choices. I’ll stay inside, thanks.”

Law disappeared to grab his shoes, and you watched as the two of them stepped out into the snow. Just before the glass door slid shut behind them, Law reached for a bottle on the counter—something clear that looked oodly familiar—and two small glasses.

Vodka. Not just for the taste. More like armor against the cold.

You watched them through the window for a moment, two silhouettes in the white haze, father and son side by side in the swirling snow.

Inside, you stayed with Lea, setting the table and falling into a surprisingly easy rhythm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the kind that starts light but somehow ends up deeper than you expect—full of little laughs and unexpected warmth. You hadn’t anticipated it, not after everything, but something about her made it easy to let your guard down.

Outside, Law stood beside his father, boots crunching softly on the snow-packed stone as they hovered near the grill. Smoke curled upward into the winter sky while the fire popped and hissed beneath the lid.

“It’s good to have you back,” Matheo said, placing skewers across the grill before lowering the lid. “How’s the hospital now that you’ve got that first diploma under your belt?”

Law wiped a bit of coal dust from his fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. He hesitated—part of him tempted to offer the usual half-answer. But after everything, especially after how things had nearly fallen apart with you, he’d made a quiet promise to stop pretending everything was fine.

He glanced at the smoke curling in the air, then at his father.

“Honestly? It’s been shit.”

Matheo didn’t react with surprise at first—just gave a slow nod as he reached for the bottle sitting nearby. And Law was quite grateful for it. He uncapped it and poured two shots of clear liquor. They clinked them together without a word and drank, the silence between them as heavy and meaningful as the conversation.

“Professors giving you hell?”

Law gave a slight shrug. “Some of them, yeah. But… that’s not the main thing.” His breath came out in a visible cloud as he stared into the steam rising from the grill. “Things didn’t go well with Y/N after the ceremony.”

Matheo glanced over, curiosity—and something else, too. Hope, maybe, that his son might finally open up. “We talked about it, your mom and I,” he said. “Rosinante told us some of what happened. We’re sorry, Law. We didn’t realize how much damage we’d done.”

Law gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad. But… I messed up too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the liquid in his glass. “Y/N was disappointed. Rightfully so. I let her walk into that whole situation blind. You guys didn’t even know I was bringing someone, let alone someone with history tied to Yuki.”

That name settled between them like a stone dropped into still water.

Matheo didn’t speak at first, just took another sip. His gaze was steady, his voice low. “There’s more to that, isn’t there?”

Law nodded again, slower this time. “I told Y/N everything. About Lamy. About Yuki. She deserves the truth.” He sighed again, deeper this time. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to drop everything on his father, but it had been a long time coming. This secret had sat too long between them, and he knew it would change how Matheo saw Yuki. But it had to.

“She does,” Matheo said softly. He turned toward Law fully now, the quiet weight of fatherhood sitting in his posture. “Especially if she matters to you.”

“More than anything...,” Law replied without hesitation. “And I almost lost her dad... Because I thought I had to handle everything on my own.”

The words hung in the air for a beat. Then he sighed, downed the rest of his glass in one go, and poured another. His hand shook just slightly as he set the bottle down.

“I told her the full story,” he continued. “And I need you to hear it too.”

Matheo said nothing, just stood quietly and listened as Law told him everything—how it started with Yuki, the history that bound them, the manipulation, the things she did to you… and what she nearly cost him.

By the time Law finished, Matheo’s brows had drawn together, his jaw tight. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. He simply reached for his glass, emptied it, and poured a fresh one for them both.

“That…” he began, shaking his head slowly, “sounds like a damn fever dream.”

Law laughed once—dry and flat. “Feels like one too.”

“And she did all that?” Matheo asked, brows furrowing deeper. “To you? To Y/N? Out of what—spite? Jealousy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Law muttered, rubbing his hands together more out of habit than cold. “Control, maybe. She was good at it. Scarily good.”

Matheo cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His expression hovered between fury and disbelief, but beneath it all was a flash of something deeper—helplessness. He wished he’d known sooner. Wished he could’ve seen the signs, stepped in, shielded his son before it ever got this far. Law was his only child. And the thought that he’d suffered in silence, carrying all of this alone… it cut deeper than words could reach.

But beneath it all was something else—relief, maybe, or a quiet kind of pride. Law had finally told him the truth. No walls, no half-truths, no pretending. Just honesty. And Matheo clung to that. He told himself to focus on what mattered now, not drown in guilt over what he couldn’t change.

He hadn’t been there for Law then. But he could be here now. Present. Listening. Showing up in the ways that counted.

“Thanks for telling me,” Matheo said at last, his voice low but steady. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he reached out, resting a firm hand on Law’s shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need to talk more—about any of it—you can call me. Anytime, alright? Even if I’m working, I’ll make time. Always.”

Law offered a crooked grin. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it… and—sorry for dropping a bomb on you in the middle of a barbecue.”

Matheo chuckled, the sound weary but genuine. “Not the first time you’ve shaken up dinner.”

They might’ve said more, but the kitchen door creaked open, and Lea poked her head out with a grin, your figure right behind her with a warm smile.

“Well? Are we eating tonight or waiting for the next solstice?” she called, her breath puffing into the cold.

“We’re coming!” Matheo replied, already moving to lift the lid and start plating the food. The meat was perfectly grilled, the smell rich and savory as they transferred everything into a large pot, sealing it up tight against the cold.

Law glanced at you through the glass door. You were smiling, eyes bright—and he felt something shift. A quiet peace.

Together, they headed back inside, the rush of warmth greeting them immediately. The dining table was already beautifully set, covered with an array of colorful, mouthwatering side dishes. It looked like a feast—comforting, hearty, and made with care.

Law glanced at you as he set the pot down, something lighter in his eyes now. Maybe things weren’t fixed yet—but this, all of it, felt like a start.

Dinner passed with a surprising lightness. Whatever conversation had taken place between Law and Matheo outside seemed to have lifted much of the tension that had hovered over the afternoon. The atmosphere now felt warmer—easier. You found yourself growing more comfortable, especially as you and Lea fell into friendly conversation, getting to know each other better over bites of perfectly grilled food and rich side dishes.

“Heard Law told you a bit about our little sunshine, Lamy?” Matheo said, his tone light as he sliced into a piece of tender, marinated meat, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

You looked up from your plate, a little caught off guard. The name had weight, even in its gentlest form. You hadn’t expected them to bring up their daughter—especially not in the middle of dinner. But both of Law’s parents wore expressions filled with warmth, not sorrow.

“A bit, yes…” you said softly, unsure however. “Though... not in much detail.”

Lea gave a quiet, wistful laugh. “You two would’ve gotten along. We hadn’t planned on having two kids, but she was the best surprise life ever gave us.”

Law let out a mock-offended scoff, raising an eyebrow. “And what does that make the firstborn?”

"You were our trial run sweetheart,” Lea teased, grinning.

Law shook his head, but his grin said he didn’t mind the teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh with them, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. This wasn’t just a family meal—it felt like being let into something sacred. A quiet kind of intimacy .

“If you two want to dig through some old memories later, the photo albums are all in the office,” Lea offered with a smile as she stood to refill the water and wine.

“Maybe after dinner,” Law murmured, glancing down at his plate. “And a hot shower.”

He stretched slightly, then yawned mid-motion—clearly not as awake as he wanted to be.

“Tired as always, huh?” Matheo asked, casual and knowing.

“Yeah. Long week. Same as always.”

“When is it not a long week?” Matheo chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “You’ve got to slow down before your body makes the choice for you.”

“He’s picked up kendo again,” you chimed in, looking over at Law. “That’s been eating up what little free time he had.”

At that, both parents paused, brows rising in near-unison.

Law leaned back, his plate cleared, and took the fresh glass of wine his mom handed him with a quiet nod of thanks.

“Seriously?” Matheo asked in disbeliefe.

Law took a sip, slow and thoughtful, then glanced your way—his silent cue for you to tell the story. It had started with you, after all.

“We went a tournament—friend of mine was competing. It stirred up some old instincts, I guess. Same friend’s been helping him train again,” you explained, setting your fork down. “Little by little. It’s been good for him.”

Law chuckled softly, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s ruthless. Doesn’t care if I’m exhausted. Says I need to ‘remember how to move like I mean it.’”

Lea’s eyes softened as a smile crept across her face. “Wow… Honestly, sweetheart, I never thought you’d pick up Kikoku again. Not after everything.”

Law didn’t reply right away, just looked down into his wine. Then, with a quiet shrug, he murmured, “Guess I missed it more than I realized.”

The table fell into a peaceful silence for a moment—not heavy, but reflective. Like everyone was letting that bit of truth settle before moving on.

Lea smiled as if recalling something distant but dear. It was clear the news meant a lot to her—she knew how much that practice used to help him unwind, especially after long days at school. After Lamy’s death, he’d slowly let go of so many things he once loved. To see him pick something back up again—it felt like a step forward.

It felt like your influence had something to do with it.

His parents could sense it—that subtle shift. Like the version of Law they remembered was slowly resurfacing. The one who used to light up over things he cared about, who smiled more easily, who carried a spark of life that had been missing for a long time.

Eventually, plates were scraped clean, glasses half-full of the last sips of wine, and the cozy lull of satisfaction settled over the table. Lea began gathering dishes, brushing off your offer to help with a gentle smile.

"You’re our guest tonight. Go on, relax," she said, stacking plates with practiced ease.

Matheo stretched in his chair and stood up with a low groan. “I’ll help her. You two head upstairs and get settled. It’s been a long day.”

Law gave a quiet nod of thanks and stood, waiting for you to follow. After a final round of smiles and goodnights, you walked with him through the hallway and up the stairs, his hand casually carrying your bags.

He led you into his old bedroom—its walls a deep navy, lined with band posters, certificates, and faded childhood photos. Bits of the past lingered here and there: crayon drawings, dusty toys, a few forgotten books. It felt like the room had been frozen in time since he left for university.

“That’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door on your right. “And before you say anything—yes, I had my own. Spare me the commentary.” He shot you a playful grin as he set your bags down.

You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Sure, privileged northern boy. Not a word.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him settle in beside you.

“…Feeling any better about my parents? “

“Sort of,” you admitted, exhaling as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “Had a nice chat with your mum. But it was all surface-level stuff—uni, weather, food…”

Law didn’t respond right away. He just watched you for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Seemed like you had a good talk with your pa.”

Law let out a short chuckle, dropping his gaze as his fingers absently traced the ink on his knuckles. “Sort of… He asked how things went after the ceremony.”

You sat up a little straighter, curiosity sparking. “And?”

“I was honest. Told him it was a mess.” He exhaled heavily, still not meeting your eyes. “Told him about the fight, the whole Yuki situation… everything.”

“Wait—seriously? You told him all of it?”

He nodded. “Everything.”

You went quiet, letting that sink in. You always knew Law was blunt, that wasn’t the surprise. It was the fact that he’d opened to his father so quickly—that he didn’t hold anything back—that caught you off guard.

“And what did your old man say?” you asked, sitting up straighter and inching a little closer.

“He apologized for his part,” Law said, glancing at you briefly before his gaze drifted away again. “And he was shocked—about Yuki.”

“Wait... you actually told him everything she did?”

“Not every detail,” he said with a shrug. “Just the broad strokes.”

“Damn,” you murmured, letting yourself sink slowly back into the mattress. “And your mom?”

“Dad said he’d talk to her. He probably already is, knowing him.” Law let out a quiet sigh as he stood and crouched by his bag, digging through it for fresh clothes. Judging by his movements, he was gearing up for a shower—and just like that, the conversation was over for him.

But not for you. You couldn’t help it—you wanted more. Every little piece. Even if the questions spinning in your head didn’t have solid answers yet, curiosity had a tight grip on you. You had to talk about it.

“What do you think your mom’s reaction will be?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Law folded his clothes with his usual precision, placed them on the bed and walked past the it toward the bathroom. “No idea. Probably shocked.” His voice was so nonchalant it was hard to tell if he really didn’t care—or was just good at pretending. He disappeared behind the bathroom door but didn’t bother closing it.

As he expected, you shifted, following him with a mind full of tangled questions.

“You think she’ll react differently than your dad?”

Law peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. Normally, you’d be watching him, soaking in every inch of him—but right now, your brain was too loud to focus on anything else.

“Definitely,” he said with a soft sigh, stepping under the stream. He visibly relaxed beneath the warm water—warm by his standards, way too cold by yours. “She’s more emotional.”

“Oh, because she’s a woman?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Through the glass, Law shot you an incredulous look, his wet black hair plastered to his face as he rolled his eyes.

“No, dumbass. Cause after Lamy passed, she needed someone to mother. And Yuki fit that role,” he replied, voice calm and matter-of-fact.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t thought of it that way. To you, Yuki had always been this villain—but this was something else.

“Do you think she’ll believe what you told your dad?” you asked, softer now.

“She will,” Law said without hesitation, closing his eyes as he lathered shampoo into his hair. “They both know I don’t make things up. And I don’t open up easily. They’ll take it seriously. Don’t stress about it.”

You went quiet for a moment, then nodded to yourself, knowing full well he couldn’t see it. “...A few more allies wouldn’t hurt.”

“Especially my parents.” He paused. “Not that I’m suggesting anything…”

You looked up, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“But they’ve got connections. Ones Yuki depends on. If things blow up again… they could cut her off.” Law opened his eyes and pushed his wet hair back, letting the water stream down his back. He wiped the fog off the shower glass and looked at you, his expression serious. "Honestly? She deserves everything coming to her after all the crap she pulled. If my son ever came to me with a story like that, I’d end her career without a second thought."

Something about the way he said it made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the fierce protectiveness—it was the fact that he mentioned his son. The idea that he even thought about having kids. That was new. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but you'd never heard him say anything like that before.

You stared at him, caught off guard, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" Law asked, chuckling as he turned away from the glass and rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. "Too harsh? Bad parenting?"

You blinked, finally managing to answer. “Nah. Honestly, I’d probably beat her up personally.”

Law laughed, shaking his head with a grin. You watched him for a moment before adding, more curious now, “I’ve just... never heard you talk about kids before.”

“I haven’t?” he asked, surprised. The water shut off with a final hiss.

“Nope.” You handed him a towel, which he took and ran over his skin in brisk motions before tying it around his waist—low enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment.

You leaned against the sink while Law grabbed a smaller towel and started drying his hair.

“Isn’t that the kind of topic you’re supposed to cover at the beginning of a relationship?” he asked, voice muffled slightly by the towel.

“Usually,” you said with a soft chuckle, watching him. “Could be a deal breaker if one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. But we kind of jumped into this whole thing without much planning.”

Law let out a low hum, pausing to glance at you. “Yeah... as the whole ceremony disaster proved, I’m not exactly great at handling emotions or recognizing when something’s serious.”

He wasn’t wrong. He had loved you long before he’d been ready to admit it—even to himself. He’d introduced you to his friends, to Rosinante, someone more important than his parents almost. You were already woven into his life, even if he hadn’t acknowledged what that really meant back then. So talking about the future hadn’t exactly been on the table—unless it involved career goals.

You tilted your head, playful but a little hesitant. “Wanna have the deal-breaker talk now?”

“Why not?”

Surprisingly, Law felt just as unsure about the conversation as you did—only he was better at hiding it behind that familiar stoic mask. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and looked straight at you.

“So,” he said, voice even, “you wanna have kids?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yup. Two at least. Only children tend to be brats.”

You raised an eyebrow with a grin. “That a scientific observation, Dr. Law?”

“Very.”

Without thinking much of it, you reached out and shook hands like you'd just signed a contract.

“Alright,” you said. “Deal.”

“Deal."

Just like that—like it was nothing—you’d agreed to build a future together. And somehow, that made it feel even more real.

"Fine," Law exhaled—then, without giving you a second to react, he suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder. “Hey—!” you gasped, flailing a little as you instinctively reached for the towel around his hips, desperately trying not to yank it off. He strolled casually back toward the bedroom, completely unfazed.

“Let’s make some kids, then.”

“What?!” you laughed in disbelief, smacking his shoulder. “You’re insane!”

He just chuckled and dropped you onto the bed like it was nothing. You bounced slightly, still grinning in shock as he reached for the clothes he had folded neatly earlier.

“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said, slipping into his underwear and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “No sex in my old bedroom. That’s just... weird.”

“Why? Because teenage Law thought kissing girls was gross?”

He gave you a look, amused. “Nah. But having all those figurines watching? That’s nightmare fuel. Always hated it.” He pointed to the shelves across the room—lined with neatly arranged figures, still standing guard like tiny plastic sentinels.

“Used to turn them around if I had a girl over.”

You burst out laughing. “That is... incredibly nerdy.”

“And also incredibly thoughtful,” he said with mock pride.

You rolled your eyes playfully and scooted to the edge of the bed to grab your sleeping clothes. “Nerdy and cute. Somehow, that combo works on you.”

A small smile tugged at Law’s lips as he settled beneath the sheets, watching you quietly change. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own—not in the traditional sense. To him, family had always been his parents, Rosinante, and the friends he’d grown to trust. That was enough. Or at least, it had been.

But now, with you in his life… the thought didn’t feel so far-fetched. It felt real. Possible. Maybe after university was behind you both, after a few years of carving out your careers—he could actually see it.

A future that wasn’t just ambition and survival, but warmth.

A home.

He stayed quiet as you switched off the light and slid under the covers, curling instinctively into his side like always. Your presence was grounding, familiar. Right.

"...Love you.“

"Love you too, Law.“

>> next chapter in progress

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii@mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller , @lechefian , @kitsunechan707 , @forest-haven , @kaz-0e , @baby5555 , @fashionably-a-hippie , @stuckinmymind22 , @whore-of-many-hot-men , @little-rivers , @spookydragonsong , @riftmage27 , @oneslowsnail , @thekatisspooky , @min-core , @ruthlesscore

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you)

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unveiledelle · 14 hours ago

Note

Claggor being in love with benzos adoptive daughter since they were young and always having cute little moments when they'd sneak out to the rooftops to look at the moon and stars and just talk.

He's always awkward around her and stuttering not being able to keep his composure even into adulthood he's all jittery around her and blushing. But still no confession. Until one at a invention convention Benzo and Powder plot.

Benzo pushes his daughter, while powder shoves Claggor making them bump into one another. The contact sends sparks through one another. Claggors a stuttering mess of course unable to form words.

"Hi Clags"

He freezes at the nickname she's given him since their youth him face flush and mouth at a thin line

"Hi y/n"

"Dance with me?"

He looks to her hand then grabs it. His hand completely covering hers as she pulls him along. He's nervous. Unable to look at her as they get into position to sway to the music. His brain turning to mush as her hands are placed on his shoulders and his on her hips.

"Are you really going to make me have to make the first move after all these years clags?"

He looks to her finally confused, but she quickly pulls him down by the back of his head into a soft kiss that he returns tenfold.

*Benzo and powder smile from the distance finally seeing what was supposed to be some years ago"

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thank you anon for feeding my delusions 🙏

Helloo! I'm back again after a month of disappearance 😭 Just had a very stressful month...

Anyway this has been sitting on my inbox since March. Idk who the OP was and I hope you're still here. I'm so sorry it took me this long to post your hc. When this was sent to me, I'm not really sure how to respond so I thought about making a visualizer instead. Also, I have no clue what your OC looks like so I hope you don't mind if I added my shameless self-insert instead.

To make it up, I made a version of just AU Claggor so my fellow Claggor fans can add their own OC or self-insert to the picture :3 (PLEASE I NEED TO SEE YOUR OCS AND SELF-INSERTS. I CAN'T BE THE ONLY DELUSIONAL CLAGGOR FAN OUT HERE </3 )

If you guys have an OC/self-insert that's taller than AU Claggor, you can use this version of him that is slightly looking up:

Also, a few reminders if you guys decide to use my drawings:

1. Please do not remove my watermark or alter my drawing of Claggor in any way. You can add your signature next to mine so it's understandable that it's a collab piece. 2. If you plan to post it online, please tag me (either on this account @unveiledelle or my main account @fiongbonto) and link this post. 3. Ask for my permission first if you plan to repost it on platforms other than tumblr, twitter, bluesky, and instagram. My DMs are open, please don't be shy to message me :)

#claggor #arcane claggor #claggor arcane #claggor x reader #claggor imagines #elle presents: fanart #claggor fanart #claggor x you #arcane imagines #arcane thoughts #au claggor #au! claggor x reader #oc x canon #Claggor x OC

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ceyanabbiolo · 14 hours ago

Text

PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [09]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: slightly suggestive, kissing, angst

wc: 5834

Chapter 9: I've Been Thinking About You

I woke up earlier than usual, the sun barely pushing through the curtains. Today wasn’t just any Friday—Noah was coming home.

My big brother had been gone for what felt like forever, buried under textbooks and mock trials at law school, and even though we talked on the phone, it wasn’t the same as having him here. I missed the way he filled our apartment with his loud music and sarcastic comments. I missed having him around.

So, I cleaned and cleaned.

I started with the living room, vacuuming every corner even though it was already spotless. Then I moved to the kitchen—wiping the counters, reorganizing the spice rack, refolding the dish towels. Anything to keep my hands busy.

I kept glancing at the clock. He said he’d be driving back this morning, should be here by late afternoon. I had hours to kill.

After showering and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I changed into comfy sweats and a tank top. I got to work in the kitchen next. Cooking always calmed me. I made his favorite—creamy chicken alfredo, with garlic bread and a salad I knew he probably wouldn’t touch, but I still made it because… well, I’m me.

I set the table, even though I knew he’d probably just grab a plate and eat on the couch. But I didn’t care.

The apartment smelled like garlic and basil, and everything felt warm and homey.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and looked around the apartment with a small smile. It was quiet. Peaceful. But I knew the second that door opened, the volume in here would crank up.

I was lighting the last candle on the table when I heard the familiar click of the front door unlocking.

The door creaked open, and there he was, my stupid older brother, hair a bit messier than usual, hoodie slightly wrinkled from the drive, and his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His tired eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

“Hey,” he said, smiling widely.

I grinned back. “Hi.”

He dropped the bag near the door and walked straight toward me, wrapping me in one of his signature bear hugs. I practically disappeared in his arms.

“You smell like garlic,” he mumbled into my hair.

I laughed. “That’s because I made your favorite.”

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “Chicken Alfredo?”

“With garlic bread. And a salad you’ll ignore.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Daph.”

I pulled away, “All good.”

He looked around the apartment like he was taking in every detail. “You cleaned.”

“Of course I did. You're lucky I didn’t vacuum the ceiling.”

He gave a small chuckle and then sniffed the air again dramatically. “Smells like heaven. Are we eating now, or do I have to shower first and pretend I’m not starving?”

I rolled my eyes. “Eat now. Shower after.”

Noah clapped his hands once and made his way to the kitchen. “Man, it's good to be home.”

We sat across from each other, the clinking of forks and the soft hum of the city outside the window filling the space.

Noah took another bite, then glanced up at me between chews. “So,” he started, swallowing, “how’ve you been?”

I shrugged, poking at the pasta on my plate. “Good. Busy. I’ve been working, so that kept me going.”

Noah twirled his fork through the last bit of pasta, then looked up at me again. “So… how was L.A.?”

I nodded slowly, resting my elbow on the table. “It was good. Different.”

“Different how?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

I shrugged. “The weather, the vibe. Every Hollywood”

He chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

There was a small pause. I could feel it before he even said it.

“Speaking of L.A…” he continued, casually but not really, “how’s Matt?”

My hand stilled slightly on my glass. I tried to keep my expression neutral. “He’s… good. Busy, you know. Same as always.”

Noah nodded slowly, watching me too closely. “You two talk often?”

I kept my voice light. “Sometimes. I mean, he’s technically my boss, so we talk about shoots and edits.”

Noah’s smirk faded a little, his tone shifting into something more serious as he set his fork down. “Is he a good boss?”

I blinked. “Matt?”

He nodded, eyes steady.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly. “He’s…patient. Gives me space to do my work, trusts my edits.” I forced a small smile, fiddling with my napkin. “No complaints.”

He watched me for a second, like he was trying to read between the lines.

I cleared my throat. “Have you talked to him recently?”

Noah leaned back in his chair, arms crossing loosely. “Just texts here and there.”

I nodded slowly.

“I’m seeing him tonight, though,” he added casually, but I felt the words hit my chest.

“Oh, cool.” I busied myself with gathering the plates, hoping the clatter would cover how awkward I suddenly felt.

Noah didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me again. I didn’t meet them.

Matt’s name shouldn’t make me tense. He’s Noah’s best friend. Normally, they’re seeing each other.

So why did it feel like my skin was two sizes too tight?

“You okay?” Noah asked suddenly.

I forced a small, bright laugh. “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

He nodded slowly, still watching. I grabbed the dishes and carried them into the kitchen, needing a second to breathe.

Because Noah didn’t know.

Therefore, I wasn’t about to tell him that his best friend had kissed me. Twice. And that I’d let him. Twice.

And maybe…I wanted to do it again.

I ran the water in the sink, letting the sound fill the silence while I stacked the plates inside. Noah got up too, bringing over the glasses. He leaned against the counter beside me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“You know,” he started casually, “Matt's not really the… serious type.”

I dried my hands slowly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he jokes around. He flirts with anything that breathes. I know he’s my best friend, but he’s always been like that,” he said with a shrug. “Even when we were younger, it was never just one girl.”

I kept my gaze on the sink, feeling my throat tighten.

“Why would that matter to me, Noah? I’m his photographer,” I said, eyeing him, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“I’m just saying—if he ever makes you feel…I don't know, unprofessional? You’d tell me, right?”

I glanced at him, forcing a soft smile. “Yeah, of course.”

He studied me a beat longer, then nodded. “Good.”

I wiped the same spot on the counter three times, needing something to do with my hands. My voice came out quieter than I intended. “He’s been… nice. Like really nice.”

Noah tilted his head. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Like… not how you’d expect, I guess.”

Something shifted in his expression—an edge of curiosity—but he didn’t push it.

“Maybe he’s maturing or something,” Noah muttered, reaching for a clean spoon from the drawer. “About time.”

I gave a half-laugh. “Maybe.”

He looked at me again, more thoughtful this time. “You two getting along then? I mean… It’s not weird, working together?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. It’s… easy.”

He raised a brow at that. “Easy?”

I caught myself. “I mean—like, he doesn’t make things complicated. It’s just work. We keep things professional.”

That wasn’t a lie. I just…left a lot out.

Noah nodded, thankfully dropping the subject, and made his way back to the couch with a stretch and a quiet yawn.

I turned off the tap, wiped my slightly damp hands on the edge of my sweatshirt, and headed to my room. My heart was still pounding—more from the conversation than anything else. I shut the door gently behind me, crossed the small space to my desk, and opened my laptop.

I hadn’t dared to look at it all day.

The email from accounting was still there, unopened. My fingers hesitated over the trackpad for a second before I finally clicked.

And then I saw it.

Deposit: $20,000.00

I blinked.

That had to be a mistake.

I leaned in closer, reading the breakdown. It was real. Four weeks of work, including the LA shoot. Flights and accommodations were comped, of course—but still. This was what I was paid?

My chest tightened. I wasn’t used to seeing numbers like this beside my name. Before this, I was freelancing in London, lucky to get maybe $30 an hour on a good day. Most gigs barely paid enough for rent and groceries. I’d spent years chasing invoices and doing free shoots just to get published.

And now… this?

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen like it might suddenly correct itself. But the number stayed the same.

Twenty thousand. For one month.

For working under Matt.

My stomach fluttered—not in the excited way, but in the confused, slightly overwhelmed way.

This wasn’t just generous. It was…excessive. Even for a high-end company. Even for Matt.

I rubbed my temples. Was this some weird favor? Was he just being nice because of Noah?

Or worse—was it because of what happened between us?

I didn’t want to believe that. He hadn’t treated me like that. Not once. Still… the thought lingered.

I was probably being dramatic. Matt doesn’t pay me; his company does.

I closed the laptop slowly, trying to catch my breath. I flopped onto my bed, my mind racing. My job felt real, my photos were actually getting used. I had seen a photo I took of Matt of a billboard the other day, and I felt really good about it.

Matt and I had exchanged a few texts since that night at the waterfront—simple messages, casual check-ins, nothing heavy. But I found myself looking forward to every buzz, every word from him. I liked texting Matt. I liked talking to him. Hell, I liked being around him.

It was too late. Deep down, I knew—I was falling for Matt all over again. Though this time, I wasn’t the helpless fourteen-year-old crushing on the older, untouchable guy. Now, as cliché as it sounded, maybe I actually had a chance. After all, Matt kissed me. Didn’t he?

Still, the thought sent a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside me. Could things be different this time? Or was I just setting myself up?

I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram, then searched for Matt’s account. The last four posts were photos I had taken—my work, framed perfectly on his feed.

Seeing my shots there made my chest tighten a little. It was like a quiet reminder of how close we’d been, in ways I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

MATTHEW

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place Noah and I used to hit up before life got too serious. We had our usual corner booth—same spot, same whiskey, just older versions of ourselves now.

Noah slid into the seat across from me, already shrugging off his coat. “Man, it’s freezing out,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together before grabbing his drink.

I lifted my glass in response. “Welcome home.”

He clicked his against mine. “Cheers.”

We drank in silence for a moment, the low hum of music and scattered conversations filling the space between us. I watched him carefully—he looked tired, but better than the last time I saw him. The city grind hadn’t swallowed him whole yet.

“So,” he said, leaning back. “How’s work?”

“Busy,” I replied, tracing the rim of my glass. “Photoshoots, meetings, running from place to place.”

He nodded slowly, then looked at me a little too directly. “And my sister?”

I kept my face calm. “She’s good. Talented. Focused.”

“Yeah,” he said, watching me. “She’s doing better than I thought she would be, coming back here.”

I nodded. “She’s a hard worker.”

He took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on me. “You've been good to her?”

The question hit heavier than it should have. I knew what he was asking, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. I met his gaze. “I have.”

He didn’t say anything for a second, then gave a short nod. “Good. She deserves that.”

I nodded too, slower. “I know.”

There was an edge to his silence now, and I couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or just big-brother mode kicking in. Either way, it made the back of my neck feel warm.

“She told me she went to L.A. with your team,” he added casually, but his tone wasn’t casual at all.

“She did,” I said. “Handled it well.”

Noah raised a brow, but thankfully didn’t push. Instead, he just leaned back and let the weight of his stare fade.

“I trust you, you know,” he finally said.

I looked down at my glass. “I know.”

Gosh, if he knew what I’d done. If he knew what we’d both done. If he had any idea how hard it was getting to look at her and not want more. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold back.

We shifted off the topic and the tension with it. Talked about old high school stories, bad fashion choices, that time Nick got a tattoo of a pizza slice on a dare—just stupid shit that made us laugh harder than we should’ve.

Noah was halfway through a story about Chris accidentally locking himself in our dad’s wine cellar when two girls appeared at the side of our table.

Both dressed like they knew what they were doing—tight dresses, confidence in their walk, glossy lips. The taller one smiled directly at me. The other leaned on the edge of Noah’s side, tossing her hair a little dramatically.

“Hey,” the one closest to me said. “You guys here alone?”

Noah, being Noah, straightened up a bit. “Just catching up. What about you?”

“We saw you from the bar,” the one near me said, eyes holding mine. “You looked…fun.”

I smiled out of habit, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Noah caught it instantly. He looked over at me with a raised brow.

“Come sit,” he offered them casually.

They slid in without hesitation—Noah was already starting to flirt, leaning in a little, the way he always did when he was interested.

The girl next to me pressed closer, her perfume sharp and overwhelming. I moved my arm slightly away.

“So, what do you do?” she asked.

“Model,” I said simply, not feeling like entertaining more than that.

She leaned in, tracing her finger on the rim of her drink. “Of course you do.”

Noah glanced at me again—this time, longer. Noticing how stiff I was, how I hadn’t even turned toward the girl properly.

“You good?” he asked, in that tone only a best friend would use. Like: what the hell is going on with you?

I nodded, but I could see the confusion in his face.

This wasn’t like me. Usually, I’d have been laughing. Buying her another drink. Maybe taking her home.

But not tonight, because even though Daphne and I hadn’t defined anything, I couldn’t sit here and entertain someone else when I still remembered the taste of her mouth from two nights ago.

Noah could see it all over my face.

The two girls laughed at something—probably each other—and the one beside me leaned over, brushing her hand against my arm as she stood.

“We’re gonna go say hi to some friends,” she said with a sultry smile, already twisting her body like she was expecting me to watch her walk away. “Be right back.”

I gave a polite nod. “Cool.”

Noah watched them disappear into the crowd, then turned to me slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“So… you’re not into her?” he asked, like he was double-checking what he’d already figured out.

I shook my head once. “Nah.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows drawn. “Seriously?”

I didn’t say anything, just stared at the amber liquid in my glass.

“No offense, but… that’s literally your type,” he said, motioning in the direction the girls had walked off in. “Tall, hot, face full of makeup, huge—” he stopped himself with a smirk, “—you know.”

I cracked a half-smile. “I know.”

He tilted his head at me. “So, what gives?”

A short, 5-foot, burnette with a baby pink and matcha obsession–or simply your sister.

I exhaled slowly, shrugging as I looked away. “I don’t know.”

Noah gave me a look. One that said bullshit, but he didn’t push. Instead, he clapped my shoulder lightly and leaned back.

“Just relax, man. You’re overthinking.” “Yeah,” I mumbled, nodding just to move on. “You’re right.”

We ordered some food, and after a few more drinks, the warmth of the liquor settled in my bloodstream, dulling the edge of whatever the hell I was feeling.

That’s when the girls came back.

The one who’d been sitting beside me didn’t even hesitate. She slid back into the booth, but this time, she didn’t just sit next to me—she straddled my lap, arms loosely looping around my neck like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Her perfume hit me instantly—something sharp and floral. Her lips pressed against mine before I even processed what was happening. I didn’t kiss back, not really, but I didn’t stop her either.

Noah glanced over with a smug grin, the other girl now tucked into his side. He raised his brows like that’s more like it.

But the second her lips were on me, something twisted in my stomach. It felt... wrong.

Technically, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t tied to anyone. Daphne and I weren’t anything official. She even said it herself—“just a one-time thing”—twice.

So why did I feel like I was betraying her?

I didn’t touch the girl. Didn’t wrap my arms around her. I just let her do her thing while I stared blankly over her shoulder, jaw tight, counting the seconds until she got bored or I could think of a way to make her get off me without making a scene.

The truth was, my mind wasn’t here. It was across the city, in a quiet apartment where a girl with soft brown eyes and a voice like honey once told me I was a good listener, next to the waterfront.

The music pulsed through the floor beneath my boots, the bass heavy enough to rattle in my chest. The girl was still on my lap, tracing lazy circles on the back of my neck with her nails while talking about something I wasn’t listening to.

Then I looked over, and Noah was gone.

I scanned the bar, squinting past the dim lights and shifting crowds, but yeah… he was gone. Him and the girl had disappeared, probably upstairs to one of the private rooms this place had for whatever “after-hours fun” people wanted.

Typical.

“Looks like your friend found some company,” the girl on my lap said with a sly smile, biting her lip. Her tone dipped low. “Wanna go upstairs too?”

Her hand slipped down to my chest, fingers dragging slowly like she already assumed the answer was yes.

I looked at her.

She was beautiful—long lashes, lips done just enough to look glossy but not sticky, curves that would drive most men crazy. If this was any other night, any other version of me from a few days ago, I probably would’ve already been halfway up the stairs with her by now.

I wasn’t that guy, at least… I didn’t feel like him anymore.

I grabbed her hand, gently, and pulled it away from my chest.

She blinked. “So… no?”

I shook my head, offering a soft, apologetic smile. “Not tonight.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me like I was joking. When she realized I wasn’t, she climbed off my lap with a small scoff, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Your loss,” she muttered, before disappearing into the crowd.

Maybe it was. However, right now, the only girl I could think about wasn’t here.

I leaned back against the booth, exhaling slowly, letting the noise of the bar blur into the background.

What the hell am I doing?

I ran a hand down my face, the alcohol buzzing just enough to dull the edges, but not enough to drown the thoughts crowding my head.

Noah’s little sister. The one girl I shouldn’t even be thinking about like this.

He was always protective of her—too protective. Hell, when we were younger, he’d give any guy a death stare if they even looked at her too long.

Noah knew me. The one who went through girls like they were names on a list. He never would’ve expected me to get close to Daphne, even if it was for work, and maybe he was right to be cautious.

But I wasn’t playing around.

That’s the part I couldn’t explain—even to myself. I’ve had flings, crushes, even something close to feelings a few times. But this? This felt… different.

The way she looked at me was like she actually saw me. Not Matt-the-model. Not Matt-the-name. Just…me.

And the way I kept catching myself wanting to tell her things I don’t even talk to Chris or Nick about.

I didn’t know what it meant. I knew one thing—I wasn’t ready to let it go.

Even if I had to pretend like nothing happened. Even if I had to keep acting like she was just my best friend’s little sister anymore.

Noah came stumbling back down the stairs, hair ruffled, shirt untucked, and a smug grin painted across his face.

“Alright,” I muttered, watching him approach.

He ran a hand through his hair like it would fix anything. “Are you ready to head out?” he asked, eyes slightly glazed but wide with energy.

I glanced around. The girl who had been on me was now distracted with her friends again. I slid out of the booth, grabbing my jacket. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Yo, I’m starving,” Noah said, stretching his arms as we stepped outside into the cooler air. “Let’s grab something greasy, man. Come back to mine? We can order in.”

I hesitated, just for a second.

“C’mon,” he added, nudging my shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

I gave a quick nod. “Alright, sounds good.”

However, my chest tightened a little because I knew who was going to be there, and I didn’t trust myself around her. Not anymore.

I followed behind Noah’s car, keeping a steady pace as we weaved through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past my windshield, but my mind wasn’t on the road. It was still spinning, full of nerves. I needed to cut it out, I was 26, damn it, too old to be acting like a school boy.

Noah’s turn signal blinks ahead of me, pulling me out of it. He turned into the familiar lot of their apartment building and pulled into his usual spot. I found one a few feet down, cut the engine, and stepped out.

Noah was leaning against his door, waiting for me, arms crossed lazily. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, shutting my door. “Just tired.”

We walked in together, through the front entrance, nodding at the tired-looking security guy at the front desk. The elevator dinged open after a short wait, and we stepped inside. The ride up was quiet.

The closer we got to their floor, the tighter my chest felt. I could already picture her, probably in sweats, probably curled up on that grey couch with her laptop open, maybe half-asleep with her hair up, maybe still awake with her glasses on.

I hated how easily I could picture her.

When the elevator doors opened, Noah walked out first, keys dangling from his hand. I followed behind, trying not to overthink the thud in my chest with every step we took closer to their door.

Noah pushed open the door and stepped in like he owned the place, which he did. He kicked off his shoes and called out, voice echoing through the apartment.

“Daph!”

There was a shuffle from down the hall, then her voice floated out. “Yeah?”

She came around the corner, her hair down, wearing an oversized crewneck and bike shorts, holding a mug in her hand.

“Can you take your—” she started, then stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes locked onto me.

The mug paused halfway to her lips. “Matt.”

I gave a small, easy smile. “Hey.”

She blinked, then cleared her throat and smiled politely. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Noah had already dropped onto the couch, grabbing the remote. “We’re getting food, want anything?”

Daphne glanced between us quickly. “Whatever you're getting is fine.”

She turned, walking toward the kitchen and muttering under her breath, “Still need you to take your laundry out of the bin, by the way.”

Noah groaned from the couch. “I will! Chill.”

I stood there for another second, still staring at her back as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Yeah. I was definitely in trouble.

We settled in the living room, Noah grabbing the controller first and firing up a racing game. The TV lit up with the roar of engines and screech of tires as we battled it out, laughing and trash-talking like we hadn’t seen each other in months.

A couple of rounds later, the doorbell rang. Noah jumped up. “That must be the pizza.”

I followed him to the door and took the boxes from the delivery guy. “Alright, let’s eat.”

Noah called out, “Daph! Food’s here!”

A few seconds later, she appeared in the living room. Effortlessly stunning

She glanced at me briefly and then at the boxes, then raised an eyebrow. “You guys only got pizza?”

Noah shrugged, opening a box. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

She let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “Noah, you know I don’t like pizza.”

He looked up, a little surprised. “Sorry, I thought you’d just eat it.”

She shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. “You know I don’t like pizza. You could’ve gotten something else.”

I looked between Noah and her, and even though she tried to hide it, the disappointment was all over her face. She had clearly been waiting for something decent to eat—and this wasn’t it.

“You said you’d be good with whatever we were getting,” Noah muttered, clearly a little annoyed.

Daphne let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, but… I thought you’d be considerate.”

With that, she turned and walked off down the hall, disappearing into her room without another word.

Noah shook his head. “Man, she’s so dramatic sometimes.”

I didn’t say anything because the truth was, I didn’t think she was being dramatic at all. I think she just wanted to be thought of.

I sat in silence, slowly chewing my slice of pizza as the sounds of the video game filled the room. Noah was zoned in, trash-talking the screen while I quietly reached for my phone. I opened the delivery app and scrolled through the options, knowing exactly what to look for—some of her favorites: grilled chicken rice bowl, dumplings, and a side of cucumber salad. I added a matcha to the cart without second-guessing it.

I glanced over at Noah. He was too busy cursing at his controller to notice anything I was doing.

I paid, hit order, and leaned back.

About half an hour later, my phone buzzed. Your order has arrived. I unlocked my phone and opened Daphne’s contact. Me: Check the front door. I got you something.

I stared at the screen, waiting. A minute passed.

Daphne: What did you get?

Me: Just check. Maybe grab it quietly.

There was a pause. I heard a door creak gently down the hall, soft footsteps padding toward the entrance.

I didn’t look up, just kept pretending to scroll, listening. A quiet shuffle, the rustling of a bag being picked up. With that, I heard her go back to her room. Two minutes later, my phone buzzed.

Daphne: Matt, did you really get this for me?

Me: Figured you shouldn’t have to settle for pizza if you didn’t want it.

Daphne: You remembered the matcha

I felt a smirk tug at the edge of my mouth.

Me: Of course I did

There was a longer pause this time before she replied.

Daphne: Thank you.

I typed slowly.

Me: Enjoy, sweetheart

I finally looked up from my phone. Noah was still deep into his game, completely unaware. I leaned back into the couch, one thought running through my mind: I was screwed.

Noah was half-slumped on the couch now, controller in hand but no longer moving. The screen flashed the “Game Over” screen, but he didn’t even blink. His head tilted back against the cushions, his eyes barely open.

“I’m gonna head out,” I said quietly, grabbing my keys and sliding my phone into my pocket. “I’ll see you at the engagement tomorrow.”

Noah grunted something in return, a lazy wave of his hand.

“Oh—” I added casually, “I’m just gonna ask Daphne something real quick. About work stuff.”

“Mmh,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. “Yeah, whatever…”

I walked down the hallway slowly, pausing just outside her door. It was cracked open an inch, a faint light slipping through. I raised my hand and knocked gently.

“Sweetheart?” I said low.

She pulled the door open a little wider, standing there, her hair pulled back, a wooden fork between her fingers, and the food container still open on her desk.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft. “Are you leaving?”

I nodded once. “Yeah… just wanted to ask you something before I go. I told Noah it's about work.” She tilted her head slightly. “About what?”

I glanced behind me, making sure no one was there, then turned back to her, lowering my voice even more.

“Not really about work,” I admitted. “Just…can I come in for a sec?”

She blinked, surprised, but didn’t move to close the door. Instead, she stepped back and opened it for me to come in.

“Sure,” she said, quieter now. “What’s up?”

I stepped in, the door clicking shut quietly behind me, sealing us into the soft silence of her room. My heart was already pounding harder than I wanted to admit.

“I’ve been wanting to see you,” I said, my voice low, unsure.

She looked up at me with that small, shy smile. “Yeah?”

I nodded, returning the smile. “Yeah.”

“Thank you for the food, Matt,” she said, offering a soft smile, “Really.”

I nodded, trying to match it with my own. “It was nothing.”

My throat felt tight, like the words were too big for the space. “I’ve been thinking about you,” I murmured, almost like a confession. “About us.”

She didn’t respond right away, just nodded slightly, eyes steady on mine, waiting—like she knew more was coming.

“I was wondering if you wanted to—”

She suddenly tilted her head, eyes dropping just a little from my face. Her beautiful smile is gone.

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice softer, more cautious.

It took me a second to realize what she meant.

Her gaze was locked on my neck.

The heat rushed up my neck as I instinctively brought my hand to the side of it—too late. I knew what was there. The mark from earlier. One I hadn’t asked for. One I didn’t even want.

“Sweetheart…” I started gently.

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes stayed fixed on the spot like it was burning into her. Then she slowly looked back up at me, her smile completely gone.

“Listen—” I said quickly, reaching for her arm. “It’s not what it looks like. I’ve really been waiting to see you all day, Daph.”

She didn’t pull away right away, but the look she gave me—God, it cut deep.

“Yeah?” she said quietly, but her voice had a bitter edge. “That's why you got knocked up before you came to see me?”

“No—it wasn’t like that,” I said, desperate to close the space between us.

She shook her head and gently pulled her arm away. “It’s fine, Matt.”

“Daph, don’t do that—”

“We’re not together,” she said, looking past me now. “It’s fine. Really. Let’s just keep things professional.”

I saw it—just for a second—the crack in her composure. Her lips pressed tight, her chest rising with shallow breaths. She was hurt. Bad. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Can we please talk about this?” I tried again, my voice lower now. “I swear, it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even want it to happen. I just—”

“Matt,” she said softly, but firmly. Her eyes met mine, glassy. “Please… just go.”

I froze. She was blinking fast now, and I could see it. She was trying not to cry.

“I’ll see you at the next shoot,” she added, turning away before I could say another word.

I stood there for a beat, helpless. Everything I wanted to say sat heavy in my throat, but none of it would change what she saw. What it looked like. I’d explain myself eventually, just seemed wrong now. She needed to cool off.

I did what she asked and halfheartedly walked out feeling like a coward. Even though I wanted to do the exact opposite.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: wompp, another update because I'm getting busy this week. mwah like and reblog!] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes

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#ceyanabbiolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #brothers best friend #light angst

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azzifudd10 · 17 hours ago

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Chapter 23: For The Peace You Give Me

Paige had never been the girl who dreamed of wedding dresses. Even when she was younger, back before college and WNBA pressure and the ache of heartbreak, she never spent afternoons fantasizing about her walk down the aisle or the ring on her finger. Love had always been complicated. Commitment, a storm of responsibility. Peace, elusive. Until Azzi. And then it all started to feel different. It didn’t come on all at once — it was gradual, soft as breath. Azzi sleeping on her chest after a long road trip. Azzi humming in the kitchen while stirring pasta sauce. Azzi barefoot in the living room with Jazlyn curled in her lap, both of them half-asleep during a Pixar movie. Paige had been in love before. But she had never belonged somewhere before. That was what Azzi gave her. Belonging. And so when she started thinking about marriage, it wasn’t flashy or loud. It was quiet. Sacred. A want that wrapped around her chest and wouldn’t let go. But the idea of asking — that was a whole other thing.

The first person she talked to was Katie. They were sitting outside Azzi’s childhood home in Virginia during a rare off-week, watching Jazlyn run barefoot through the grass with Azzi’s younger cousins. Katie handed Paige an iced tea and gave her that signature mom-look — the one that saw everything without needing to ask. Paige fiddled with the rim of her glass. “I need your advice. And also… maybe your permission.” Katie’s eyes lit up, but she didn’t interrupt. “I want to propose,” Paige said, her voice barely louder than the wind rustling the trees. “To Azzi.” Katie’s breath caught. Then softened. “Oh, sweetheart.” “I’ve never wanted anything more,” Paige continued, hands now shaking, “but I also know what she’s been through. And I know what I’ve put her through. And I’m scared that if I try to give her forever, I’ll mess it up. That I’ll never be enough.” Katie put her hand over hers. “You’re enough just by loving her like you do.” “I don’t have a peaceful heart,” Paige whispered, eyes glassy. “Not like her. She’s calm and good and kind. I’m… I’m chaos. I come with press and pressure and everything loud. And I want to give her quiet. I want to be her quiet.” Katie blinked hard. “Paige Bueckers,” she said softly, “you are the only person I’ve ever seen my daughter be completely at home with. That’s not because you’re perfect. It’s because you try. Because you care. And because Jazlyn calls her mommy like it’s the most natural word in the world.” That did it. Tears slipped down Paige’s cheeks. She didn’t even try to wipe them. “She’s my home,” she said hoarsely. Katie pulled her into a hug. “Then ask her to stay. Ask her to be yours. We’ll all be behind you.”

The next step was the one she’d dreaded most. Azzi’s dad. Tim Fudd wasn’t intimidating in a loud way — he was calm, like Azzi, but you could feel the weight behind every word. He knew how to listen. And even worse, how to wait for the truth to rise. Paige caught him outside the next morning, helping fix the gate on the front porch. Her palms were sweating. “Sir,” she started, then corrected herself. “Mr. Fudd. Tim.” He looked up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You okay, kid?” She almost laughed. “Not even a little.” “Talk to me.” Paige took a breath, then all at once: “I want to marry your daughter.” Tim blinked. “I love her. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I know I’m not the easiest person. I know what happened before, with Jaz’s dad — how scared she was, how much she got hurt. I know that love isn’t always safe. But I want to be. I want to be the person who never makes her flinch. I want to be the reason she feels protected, and grounded, and free.” Tim didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he asked, “Do you want to love her? Or do you want to keep loving her when it’s hard?” Paige didn’t hesitate. “Both. Always.” Tim gave a slow nod. “Then you have my blessing. And my trust. But you better take care of my girls.” Paige nodded quickly, voice cracking. “I will.”

She spent the next two weeks looking at rings. Not flashy ones. Not the kind with giant stones that caught the light and screamed for attention. She wanted something meaningful. Something that felt like Azzi. She landed on a ring with a twisted gold band — two threads intertwined like vines, holding a small diamond in the center. Simple. Strong. Beautiful. Quiet, like the life she wanted to build. She kept it tucked in the back of her sock drawer in their LA Townhouse, checking on it like it might vanish if she didn’t look every day. But what she couldn’t figure out was how to ask. It had to be perfect. Except Azzi never needed perfect. Azzi just needed real.

The night Paige knew she was ready, the sky was dark and humming with stars. Jazlyn had fallen asleep early, curled between them on the couch, still in her Sparks jersey and socks mismatched. Azzi was braiding Paige’s hair absentmindedly, fingers soft and sure. And Paige couldn’t stop staring at her. The way her lashes fluttered when she focused. The soft curve of her smile. The weight of every shared moment in her eyes. “Az,” Paige whispered. “Yeah, baby?” “Do you think peace is something we make… or something we find?” Azzi paused, looking down at her. “I think… it’s something we choose. Every day. Even when it’s hard.” Paige swallowed. “Would you choose it with me?” Azzi smiled, eyes soft. “I already do.” And that was when Paige knew. That night, she slipped out of bed after Azzi had fallen asleep and stood by the window, staring out at the city. The ring felt heavy in her hand. She didn’t know exactly when she’d ask. But she knew the answer. Azzi was her peace. Somehow, someway, someday… they were going to make forever feel like home.

#paige x azzi #pazzi #azzi fudd #azzi35 #paige bueckers #pazzi fics

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flowerakatsuka · 10 months ago

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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.

#HE'S FINALLY HEREEEE #i love chouji so much aaaa #i've been waiting to talk about him more since he didn't have a design but now i have no limits >:)#also his signature color is a similar maroon to the color clove flowerbuds are!#osmt #osomatsu-san oc #karamatsu #mj ocs #oc : chouji #oc : kuroba #mj draws

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toasteaa · 4 months ago

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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?

#toast talks #I love little things like that tbh!! Like you have your own signature on them in a way 💕#I was reading back some posts and realized I always make Neuvi give a little head tilt when he's confused or intrigued #Or how he's actually much cheekier than he might appear to be #And like. How he's knowledgeable and book smart about so many things but then his actual experience with these same topics #just...doesn't exist. Or it does exist but only in one concept and not the other.#Insert that one ''is human copulation really that different from dragons?'' line of his from my silly little cursed sovereign au #IDK IT SEEMS A LITTLE SILLY AFTER I TYPE IT OUT NOW BUT WJXKSJXJ #I like my characterization of him...thinking about him makes me smile nwxjejd #ANYWAYS THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT Y'ALL AND YOUR FAVES I'LL RAMBLE SOME OTHER TIME

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hauntingblue · 1 year ago

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

#you wanna be pirate king? *obliterates 50000 of your men*#if i was nami i would have complained aboy luffy not doing the other 50000... like lets be efficient and focus on the big guys please....#these divas wanna show off??? i am taking a break then have fun #zoro took off his top already se.... showoff... slut.... who said that #i love how robins signature move is to snap necks.... like yes girl efficiency thats what im talking about #so it is true that sanjis training was just running lmao #well and the recipes #arrogant bastard!! boo!! HAHAHAHA #la jamba diabla!!!! missed it #talking tag #watching one piece #episode 555

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rayveneyed · 10 months ago

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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.

#i.e. this is what i fantasize abt while working luxury retail #and of course reader is his gf likeeeeeeeeeeee #i could write about him forever #also hes not one of those men who doesnt know ANYTHING abt what u like #he knows what scents u like what textures u like your skin type your hair routine EVERYTHIGN #nanami x reader #kento x reader #jjk x reader #anime x reader #nanami x you #kento x you #jjk x you #anime x you #nanami au #kento au #jjk au

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mephisto-reporting · 8 months ago

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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!

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xoxojisu · 3 months ago

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"WE'RE NOT DATING!"

synopsis: the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.

a/n: hahahaha more pre-relationship just friends trope (do not tell me i do this trope too much it brings me joy) also a lot of people asked for a pt two to my unofficalbf!katsuki hcs and this isnt quiiiite that bc there's not a whole lotta interaction w katsuki but uhm its smth. i have more wips abt this tho so theres a LOTTT more where that came from!

"even if we don't talk about anything important, i want to force it to be about romance!" mina exclaimed as ochako floated off in embarrassment at being questioned about deku.

"oh! speaking of! how long have you and bakugo been dating, y/n?"

you froze. "huh?"

"i don't know how you handle him! you're so sweet and cute and he's all 'die! go to hell! i am the king explosion murder lord!' y'know?" she added.

"he's not really like that with her, though. he's always a lot quieter she's around. you can see the way his eyes soften." tsu commented thoughtfully.

they all stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer the question, and you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks. "uh.. katsuki and i.. aren't dating?"

a beat passed. then another.

"WHAT?!"

"no way! i thought you two were dating for sure! he's always holding your hand and grabbing at you and acting all soft with you! wait, i literally saw him carry you to his room! how are you not dating?" hagakure burst out.

"yeah! and during our movie night last week, you were laying your head on his shoulder and he had his arms around you!" mina chimed in. "we all just assumed you two were dating like a given! what do you mean, 'you're not dating?!'"

"i mean, we're not dating! we're close friends, sure, but katsuki's never, like, asked me to be his girlfriend or anything! we're just tight childhood friends, that's all! he probably thinks of me as a little sister with the way he looks out for me, or something." you explained, waving your hands in the air frantically.

"y/n, i love you, but you're being as stupid as kaminari! no boy, but especially not bakugo, would ever act like that with a girl he wasn't interested in." jirou sighed. "there really isn't such thing as 'platonic cuddling' or 'platonic handholding' between boys and girls."

"well, it's normal for kids, you know? and katsuki and i grew up together, so it just kinda stuck!" you said, making a noble attempt at justifying you and katsuki's we-are-definitely-not-just-friends behavior. they all looked at you unamused.

the girls continued to bombard you with questions, each one getting bolder than the last.

"seriously, though, y/n," mina said, her grin wide, "how do you keep it together around him? you two are always so… cozy."

"cozy?" you blinked, trying to avoid their intense stares. "what do you mean 'cozy'?"

"oh, come on," she teased, nudging you. "you hold hands, sit waaaay too close, and don’t even get me started on the whole ‘sleeping on and cuddling with him’ thing. also, i swear i saw him give you a kiss on the forehead!"

"i mean, that’s just how we are!" you said, exasperated. "we’ve been friends forever! it’s not a big deal!"

jirou raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "i don’t know, y/n. most guys don’t carry their girl friends to their rooms when they’re tired."

you froze. the memories flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. "i told you, he was just being—"

"overprotective?" yaomomo interrupted, practically reading your mind. "yeah, that’s what we thought, too. but i don’t know, seems a little… extra for a friend."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “this is ridiculous. we’re not dating! he’s not like that with me.”

they all stared at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, when suddenly, the door to the room swung open.

katsuki stood in the doorway, his signature scowl immediately visible, with kirishima and kaminari not far behind. "..what the hell are you all looking like that at me for? you got a problem?"

the girls didn’t miss a beat. mina jumped up, eyes practically sparkling. "we were just discussing how you and a certain girl over here are totally a secret item!"

you froze. oh no.

katsuki's eyes widened then narrowed as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of grumpiness and fluster. "the hell?" was all he said.

“you’re always carrying her, holding hands, and let’s not forget you cuddling with her sleeping on you during that movie last week. with how comfortable you guys were with it, i'll bet it was far from the first time you guys have done stuff like that, too! you two are practically made for each other!”

katsuki glared at her, his fists clenching. "i don’t give a shit what you idiots think." his voice was sharp, dismissive, and he turned his gaze toward you for a moment, his usual annoyance evident.

you let out a nervous laugh, relieved that he wasn’t actually acknowledging any of the weird feelings the group was pushing on you two.

the girls looked between you and katsuki, still skeptical, but he wasn’t having it. he gave a quick, sharp glare to the group before glancing back at you. you failed to see the way his sharp glare softened ever-so-slightly when he did so.

“you’re all so damn nosy,” he muttered, turning to leave. "get a life."

he marched off grumpily, kirishima and kaminari now excitedly talking to him about assumedly the same topic. he slammed the door in their faces, but they were quick to scramble after him.

you let out a sigh of relief once they left, but before you could even speak, mina burst into laughter. "there it is! classic bakugo. totally in denial!"

"totally!" ochako giggled.

"mhm!" hagakure agreed.

"ugh," you groaned, face in your hands. "please just drop it already!"

the girls kept their grins, but the teasing finally slowed down. "alright, alright," mina said with a wink. "we’ll let you off the hook for now."

you exhaled in relief as the group slowly started to branch off into different topics, the heat finally off of you. you excused yourself for some water so you could get some air, and began heading back to the dorm rooms.

to your surprise, katsuki was already waiting for you outside the common area. when he saw you, he gave you a gruff nod of acknowledgement.

"kats! i thought you were going to bed!" you chirped, unaware of how your demeanor instantly brightened when it was just the two of you.

"i am," was all he offered before grabbing your hand and dragging you to presumably his dorm room to cuddle and hangout.

as you rambled and chatted with katsuki, hand-in-hand, on your way to hang out in his dorm alone, the words of your friends came back to you, causing a pink hue to rise to your cheeks.

..yeah. you two were definitely not "just friends."

#jisu writes!#erm this is lowk trash and i hate it what if i kms #dw guys i have better wips trust #tbh this is more 1a girls shenanigans than katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #katsuki fluff #katsuki x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #i love him #unofficialbf!katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff

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silverskyeline · 10 months ago

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'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.

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peachsayshi · 4 months ago

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₊ ⊹ . ݁ 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

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #jjk fanfics

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peachylynnie · 5 months ago

Text

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo) contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing. a/n: UPDATED WITH CALEB AS OF 2/1/25 i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated. lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

caleb

What you heard? (What you heard?) But it's never what you think, trust

it's impossible to surprise caleb.

he always knows what you're up to.

whether you're just waking up from a heavenly two-hour nap or going out to get your hands on the latest edition of your favorite blind box series, he's always there.

last time you tried to cook yourself a meal (ever since you started dating, he hasn't let you lift a finger), he came home early and snatched the spatula away from you, insisting that you sit down and look pretty for him while he makes his signature braised wings.

you're not sure how he does it. maybe he has a secret camera or a tracker installed (ha). though, you don't have any complaints. you think it's fucking hot how he's never away from you.

even so, you've been wanting to surprise him for a while now. blame it on your desire to fluster him as much as he flusters you. you're going to surprise him AT LEAST once in your lifetime.

which explains why you're in an apron right now, with absolutely nothing underneath.

to be honest, you were hoping to surprise him with homemade apple pie since he's always cooking for you. but again, you want to fluster him. thus the apron, a long piece of denim fabric wrapped tightly around your waist and hung dangerously low at your chest. you can't deny how delectable you appeared when you looked in the mirror, admiring your exposed arms, legs, back, and neck—anything that would drive the esteemed colonel insane. you felt jittery just thinking about the look he would have on his face when he walked in through the door of your shared home.

however, your joy is short-lived when your phone rings while you slice up some apples in the kitchen.

"what's with the apron, pipsqueak?"

you put the knife down with a sigh. "do you have a camera installed in here or what?"

caleb chuckles into the phone. "wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would like to know so i can turn the damn thing off and actually surprise you for once, dipshit," you retort playfully as you adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the knife to continue chopping. you suppose you should still make the pie since you already got the ingredients out.

"aw," he mocks, his voice dripping with arousal. "did my little pipsqueak dress up just for me?"

"yes," you snap, rolling your eyes. "but this little pipsqueak is about to change since you ruined her surprise."

your threat does little to faze caleb, as evidenced by his endearing laughter.

"don't be upset, pips," he teases into the phone. before you can scoff at his audacity to tell you not to be upset, your ears catch the hurried footsteps in the background of the call. it doesn't take long for you to hope your boyfriend is on his way home—on his way to you. sure enough, his next words cause heat to pool between your bare legs.

"keep the apron on. i'll be home soon."

after he hangs up, you put your phone down with a giggle, eager for what's to unfold once he arrives. however, you still can't help but wonder if he actually has a camera installed because how the fuck does he always know what you're up to? you frown as you turn your head left and right. you don't see any red flashing lights in places that could provide him an optimal view. nope. nothing in the corners of the ceilings and nothing in the walls either. before you can convince yourself your boyfriend is somehow omniscient, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

his dog tag. seems like he forgot to put it on after putting on his uniform. you pocket it, hoping to give it to him when he gets home.

but your mind is truly one of a kind. as caleb likes to put it, resourceful during the most critical moments.

because when he's balls deep inside of you, coaxing your second orgasm out of you, you get the bright idea to fish your shaky fingers into the pocket of your bunched-up apron and put. it. on.

caleb's eyes widen upon seeing his dog tag on you. there it was, the important item he forgot this morning, resting between the delicious valley of your breasts, bouncing up and down while jingling an enticing melody.

"fuck—pipsqueak, you—" he thrusts harshly, pistoning into your sopping heat. you throw your head back at the sensation, allowing him an even better view of his chain, mingling with the beads of sweat on your collarbone. shit, he's so turned on right now. not only were your swollen, sweet lips adorning his name, but so was your pretty little neck. it filled the young colonel with pride. and enough vigor to bring you to your third release, as evidenced by the endless slamming of his hips and the clenching of your thighs.

"good girl," he helps you through your high before letting go of your waist, hoping to give you a break. "i'll go get a towel. stay here."

but when your pilot of a lover goes to leave, you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you, causing him to collide with you. caleb hisses at the contact, sensitive more than ever.

"don't push it, pipsqueak," he warns as he plants both of his arms on the kitchen counter, caging you in. "you need to rest."

"i don't think so, colonel," you prop yourself on your elbows, meeting his eyes boldly. "i don't think so at all."

caleb swears he feels his mechanical arm short-circuit because what you do next is just fucking tantalizing.

you pinch his dog tag and bring it to your mouth.

his breathing quickens substantially when your teeth take the shiny piece of metal as their prisoner. it's not long before his dog tag is trapped between your seductive canines and your thighs are tightened around his waist.

with a shameless smile, you jut your chin towards the man, signaling to him to make his move.

caleb growls, seizing the chain with both hands and bringing you to his face.

"i warned you, pips."

extra (in honor of his official installment)

as you munch on some apple pie in caleb's embrace on the couch, you can't help but ask.

"how did you know about the apron but not the dog tag?"

your boyfriend sniffs before answering, a little bit of pie still in his mouth.

"i couldn't check the cameras on the way home."

"oh that makes sense."

"…"

"wait, what?!"

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright) Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his.

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?”

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far.

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good.

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble.

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body.

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck.

oh.

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck.

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?"

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding.

"anything for my beloved bride."

zayne

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

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