#im going to stop here but i have SO much thoughts

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

So... I see this a decade after i decided to simply... Stop instigating conversations because i felt like im simply burdening others with my presence and that they actually felt annoyed having to hear from me and wished i wouldnt send messages.

The thing is that none of them ever approached me afterwards. When we saw each other after a while we would be ecstatic but there was a wall between us already and i dont know if its simply life going on and us being very different than back then, or that they truly didnt see me the same as i saw them (as my besties).

One time i met one of them (this one specifically was my best friend from first grade until twelve basically) on the street and i see that she's married and walking with her husband. Turns out the wedding was that sunday and i wasnt even notified of it happening or of the engagement. I wasnt mad about not being invited, but i was hurt for not even being notified! She then turned to her husband and said that im a friend of her from high school.

Its been a decade from high school so i can see why she said that, but that hurt me so badly that the moment i waved them goodbye and they disappeared around a corner, i collapsed and just sobbed. I was so heartbroken. It seemed that i was the only one who still thought of her as my old school's bestie or had thought of including her in any future milestones simply because she was so important to me.

So i dont know how i feel about this post. I understand where you guys are coming from and its in good intentions, but the main issue is that many kids who become the sole instigators were never shown that they can be vulnerable in front of their friends about this matter. It felt like its your duty and how you contribute to the group. And when it became harder and harder, the friends never questioned why you pulled away or asked for your wellbeing. It turned into a situation when you feel more like a nuisance than a leader.

Fortunately, i have now friends who instigate so much more than me and i keep telling them how i appreciate it and apologise for how terrible i am at texting back and that its never because i dont want them to text me. Its simply because texting or answering messages had become so hard for me and so mentally taxing i sometimes shut down when i see messages i need to reply to.

So rambling aside, as much as i appreciate your sentiment, i think a different approach would be helpful.

My approach (which is not better or worse, just a different approach) is to get comfortable with a 'friends for one day' reality. I go so many times to so many places and meet so many amazing people, we always say we'll contact one another and keep in touch and then never contact one another again, and that's alright.

You have to be comfortable with being friends without focusing on the 'keeping the friendship going' let people come and go. Those who truly want to stick around will stick around, and they usually have a much deeper connection with you that isnt dependant on who instigates the conversations.

My friends are those that mostly text in memes and reels since we dont see each other often. And i do the same in return. Its easier and relays so much more. We have proper conversations here and there, but our actual interactions happen physically. And they instigate meetups much more than i do and i always make sure that they know that i appreciate it. One of my friends and i also have some differences in opinions, so we have some long discussions.

I also have a friend who i dont text to at all but invites me to shabbat meals once in a while and i come over and its like no time had passed. I invite her back for bbq or shabbat as well, but thats also once in a blue moon.

Another friend is across the ocean so its mostly photos and small comments and talks about our lives and since the war began, she keeps checking if im alive and well.

Another friend is also across the ocean and we mostly speak about our realities of being jews or squeal over her precious daughter or make plans for when she finally comes to Israel.

So my friends arent part of one group but many branches of different aspects of my life. I would say i have around seven/eight of them that arent my current co workers (work friendship is also temporary and i accept that fully and enjoy our time together) and im truly blessed because i had let go of the desperate need to keep my friends together.

So please dont call us a bitch for not willing to talk about it. And we're certainly not mini community leaders, we're just people who are friends with those that never cared about reaching out first or affirming our friendship in any kind of way. Its not fair to put the expectations of reaching out onto the one who constantly did that. Friends who truly want to keep up a friendship will attempt to do so when they see that the other side isnt as present as previously.

Sorry im all over the place, im on my phone and its harder to articulate on it

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

[bonbonly]

BONBON!!! need collegeau! carlos punishing artstudent!reader for going almost no contact with him when she was on her trip with mrs sainz. left him in the dark, wondering if she was with another man.. he needs to leaves so many marks so that no man goes near her for a while.. 🙏

LITERALLY AS SOON AS I FINISHED WRITING "INTO THE WOODS" I WAS LIKE I NEED TO GET TO EM'S ASK (and im combining 🍒 anon's ask in this as well!)

bon's thoughts (18+)

college!au carlos is at his study room, typing up an assignment that he has for his entrepreneurship class. his fingers drum against the keyboard before he adds another paragraph to his proposal. he leans back in his chair, reading over the word doc and then stiffening when he hears your laughter downstairs.

you had just come back from an art exhibition with his mother. you spent the past two weeks ignoring his texts, never picking up his calls. every time he did call, it was always when you were talking with an art director about trying to get your paintings to another gallery across the globe. by the time you'd get back to your hotel room, you're passed out and dozing off, completely oblivious to the thousand calls carlos was spamming you with.

mrs. sainz is making pasta for everyone tonight, and she smiles at you, "my dear, would you mind going upstairs and getting carlos? i heard he hasn't eaten anything since lunch, no snacks or juice! my poor boy must be starving!"

you laugh, slipping off the stool and nodding your head, "will do, mrs. sainz!" and you skip out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs. you approach his room, and pause in front of his door. you peer into the small crack and see him working diligently, his glasses on. he never really wore glasses that often, only if he was locked in and trying to get his work done. but ugh, he looked really good wearing it. you clear your throat, knocking on the door, "carlos! your mom's calling you for dinner!"

"come in!" carlos barks, cracking his knuckles. you enter, closing the door behind you,

"hey!" you smile, but your face falls when you see that he's glaring at you. he gestures for you to walk over to him and you sigh, reaching him behind his desk and running a hand through his hair, "hey, what's up? is your college work too much?" but before you can get a response, he shuts his laptop, placing it to the side and tosses all the papers and pencils onto the ground before picking you up and slamming you onto the table. you gasp out loud as he's tearing your clothes off, spreading your legs wide. he lets a trail of his saliva flow onto your pussy, his fingers sliding the spit along your folds which causes you to choke back a moan as you gaze at him with wide eyes. he chuckles, darkly,

"very cute of you, hermosa," he snickers, licking your clit, "i think my dinner's right here." and he wraps his entire mouth around your cunt, slurping the sweet juice you have to offer him. you're shaking as he continues, and folds you into a mating press as he rubs his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent, "fuck, i've spent two weeks without your calls and texts, imagine how much i missed you, princesa"

and you gulp, realizing that he didn't forget the fact that you forgot to call him back. he's holding onto your wrists to make sure you can't hold onto his hair as his tongue delves deeper, his head shaking against your cunt which has you crying out loud about how good his tongue is. truth is you missed him too, but you wouldn't say that because you knew his ego would get bigger. when you cum around his tongue, he lets his tongue drag up to your tits, sucking and biting anywhere that he can find. he's marking your neck, your forehead, your collarbones, even your arms, all while his cock is pistoning inside of you without stopping.

"are you going to cum? hm, is that what's going to happen?" he mocks your pleas as you're frantically nodding your head, telling him how close you were. he laughs, shaking his head, "i thought you were fucking some other man, i thought you had forgotten all about me... me, the man that even got you those art exhibitions! fuck, i think the only way you'll ever understand is if i get you pregnant. my cum flowing out of you every night. my mama will be so happy to be the grandmother to our child."

"carlos!" you scream, clenching around his cock as his nibbles your ear. your legs are stretched so wide you know you're going to be limping back downstairs. a knock on the door makes you snap your head to the side, and carlos is grinning as he's pounding into you faster.

"carlos, what's taking you so long?" mrs. sainz asks from the other side, and carlos groans quietly to himself at the feeling of your pussy swallowing him, taking him deeper,

"just a bit... fuck, busy with work mama! we'll be out soon, don't worry! give me 10 more minutes!" he yells, and mrs. sainz sighs,

"take your time! your work comes first, mi hijo!" her footsteps grow quieter as she heads back downstairs, and carlos grabs your jaw, forcing you to look back at him,

"you heard what she said, mi zorra, you better hope mi mama doesn't see my cum all over you," and you whimper out loud, biting your lip at the thought of being drenched from head to toe in his cum. he giggles, shaking his head, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? and who am I to deny my princesa?"

[cigswme]

𓇼 ⋆.˚ you and vi were college roomates, well she just went through a breakup and came home really drunk, well your comforting.. led to one thing to another.

𓆡 — based on the song FANTASTIC by king princess.

– MEN DNI

tw: drinking, messy making out, drunk sex, fluff

you were alone on your dorm, vi's been gone all night. All you know was her previous girlfriend cheated on her and she well.. hasn't been handling it well. Its not new to you that she'll be gone randomly and come home at 3 or 4am drunk like she doesn't have classes in the morning. You kinda liked it, not that you liked that shes going through something but you just liked being alone especially when studying for your finals for the next day.

You just finished studying and now watching your favorite series, american classics on your laptop until you heard a desperate loud knocking, you huffed irritatedly because who would be knocking at 11pm?? you didn't think it was vi, since she never comes home this "early", you opened the door and she slumped her body immediately onto you. "Vi--?? what the fuck?!" you blurted out shocked that she almost collapsed if you hadn't catched her "Mmn miss you cupcake" she said drunkenly, she had always called you cupcake ever since you moved on with her. you opened the door more open so you can help her get inside, once her arms were on your shoulder and your helping her get to bed she said something... "i've always-- wanted you.." you thought it was just her in her drunken state missing her ex girlfriend, you placed her in her bed leaving her alone for a moment to close the door and to get her a glass of water "here drink.. god, Vi you should really move on... geez she fucking played you now move on. Im tired of seeing you like this every night." you scolded her while she just chuckled sheepishly "you care about me so much yk? Just wanna say thankyou, cupcake." you smiled at her but before you could say anything she suddenly kissed you, you can still taste the alcohol in her tounge. You tried to pull yourself away but she just grabbed your waist pulling you closer to her, you moaned into the kiss and she took the opportunity to slide her tounge inside of your mouth. After some more seconds into the kiss she finally pulled away, both of you breathless from the kiss. "Wha-- what was that for?" you say catching your breath "just— i dont know, m'sorry.. i know me and that jerk broke up like 2 months ago but shes not the reason i always come here drunk— its you... you're the reason why i drink so much, you just-- drive me crazy.. ever since me and my ex girlfriend got together i knew it from the very beginning that she was cheating on me so its nothing when i caught her with a man.. I've always liked you... I really do and i was pretty sure you wouldn't like me back-- Hell, i don't even know if youre into chicks." she chuckled, the alcohol still there in her system but everything she said sounds sincere, it doesn't feel like her talking in her drunken state that left you speechless. After a moment of silence you decided to speak "Uh— I, well i am into chicks.. i dont know how you didn't figure that out in the beginning.." you chuckle, "and yeah, i like you too.. i mean— the feelings kind of stopped when you got a gf.. I didn't want to ruin your relationship at that time, but yeah when she treated you like shit i wanted to kill that bitch i cant lie." she chuckled at your words, taking another sip from the glass of water you gave her, she smiled at you and kissed you again, this time gentle and affectionate, she slowly pushed you down her bed kissing your jaw traveling down your neck. You moan and a sly grin appeared on her lips as she played with the hem of your shirt slowly taking it off of you, revealing your pink laced bra.. she didnt do anything for a moment and just stared at you in awe "You're so pretty, you know that?" she chuckled and slowly unhooked your bra, you gasp at the feeling and she got down trailing hot kisses that only stopped when she reached your abdomen, you can't stop thinking like shes a fucking doll while shes down there. She slowly pulled your shorts down, you squirm at her touch "easy.. you just have to take it babe." she says while palming your tits, you moan at her touch. "Y'know.. fuck, I couldn't stop thinking of you." she huffed, you whine and whimper under her and she coos you. "Shh, its okay babe im here.. just be a good passenger for me baby." she says her voice gentle and reassuring.

You woke up, vi nuzzled up against you. You smiled at the sight of her, her pink hair messy yet perfect. She then suddenly grabbed you and hugged you tighter in her sleep. You just chuckled and kissed her fore head, after all she did made you feel fucking fantastic last night.

a/n: made this at 7am loll, hope you guys like itttt!

[orangeblossomsintheair]

DAD SIMON THOUGHTS!!

im also in this fandom now ;>

simon’s fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of the table as you placed your mug down and sat across from him. he avoided your gaze, staring at a spot on the wall instead. his silence was deafening, stretching long enough to make you sigh.

“spit it out, simon,” you said gently, leaning forward.

“there’s nothing to spit out,” he muttered, but his clenched jaw betrayed him.

you tilted your head, watching him with that knowing look that always unnerved him. “you’re acting like the world’s about to end.”

he huffed a humorless laugh. “maybe it is.”

your brows knitted together, but there was no anger, only a concern that made his skin itch. “simon, talk to me.”

he nearly laughed at your face. you made it sound so easy.

how could he put that fear into words, knowing it might hurt you, knowing it might break something in you too?

“i can’t,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not… i don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”

your lips pressed into a thin line as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. “you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared,” he shot back too quickly, tone defensive.

“you’re terrified,” you corrected softly, squeezing his hand. “and that’s okay.”

you tilted your head, trying to catch his eyes. “now, seriously. talk to me.”

he shook his head. “what if I’m not…good enough? what if I fail you? or our baby?”

your hand tightened around his, and you moved closer, your eyes unwavering. “you won’t. because you care too much to fail. and because you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i don’t know how to be…” he trailed off, his voice cracking.

“a father?” you finished for him, your voice warm.

he nodded, staring at your joined hands.

“you’re already doing it,” you said softly. “you’re here, si. that’s what matters most. the rest, we figure out as we go.”

simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he hadn’t said anything for a while now, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. you sat beside him, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his body a coiled spring ready to snap.

“i know you don’t believe me,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “no matter what I say, you’ve got it in your head that you’re not good enough.”

he didn’t respond, but his hands flexed slightly, like he was gripping onto some invisible weight he just couldn’t drop.

you exhaled, leaning closer, voice steady. “simon, I didn’t marry you because I thought you were perfect.”

he looked away, jaw tightening, but you pressed on.

“do you really think i didn’t know what i was getting into? i knew. and i still love you. i’ll always love you.” your hand rested on his, grounding him. “not because you’re perfect but because you show up. because you try, even when you’re scared. because you care, even when it hurts.”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he looked at you, his voice cracking as he whispered, “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“you don’t get to decide that,” you replied, smile soft but firm.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how. “bit bossy, aren’t you?”

you smirked, tilting your head playfully. “someone has to be, with you moping around like this.”

“moping?” his eyebrows lifted, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his tone. “i don’t mope.”

“oh, you do,” you shot back, leaning back slightly but keeping your hands on his. “it’s very broody, very dramatic. could give shakespeare a run for his money.”

a dry laugh rumbled in his chest, and the sound warmed you more than you cared to admit. “didn’t know i married a comedian.”

“well, i didn’t marry a ray of sunshine, so i guess we’re even.” you grinned, poking him lightly in the ribs.

he caught your hand before you could do it again, holding it tightly but not enough to hurt. “careful,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “i’m dangerous, remember?”

your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it. “oh, please. you’re about as dangerous as a kitten when you’re sulking.”

he huffed, shaking his head, but the ghost of a smile finally broke through. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and yet, here we are,” you cooed, leaning closer until your forehead was almost touching his. “you stuck with me, riley. for better or worse.”

he let out a long breath, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “guess i can live with that,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze warm in a way that made your heart ache.

“you better,” you quipped, grin returning full force. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

his lips finally curved into a small, genuine smile. “good,” he murmured, pulling you closer into his arms. “i’d be lost without you.”

[admirationandromantics]

Stormy Confession

Another request! Don't worry, I do have several more in my inbox, but please be patient, they will come eventually! Anyways, hope you enjoy this. As usual, it's not edited, but who cares?

Word count: 1,9k (Unedited)

They’re BEST friends with benefits, so there is already an established chemistry between them. They’re stuck in a snow storm anddd “im totally kidding but im kind of freezing rn and my heater’s busted” so they decided to hook up in josh’s very roomy car, only to realize “hey ik im being dramatic but we COULD die rn so i need to confess that im in love with you…” lmao my writing is so jumbled but i know you could do wonders with this idea!🥹🥹

The wind is getting worse, almost like it’ll tip the car over. Josh is sitting beside me, driving the car, all tensed up by the stress of it. Usually, I would comment on it, but I understand the gravity of the situation. We just need to keep going, we don’t have that far left. 

The trees outside are dark. Gentle snow taking its place on the pine needles. If it weren’t for the storm, I would love it. Luckily, it’s clear enough that we can still see the road, but I wonder how long that’s going to last. 

I check the weather update, but it’ll not clear up until the middle of the night. If we were to stay in the car until then, we would have to climb the mountain in the dark. This is not something I want to do, but I guess at this point, it’s a must. We just have to stay clear of wild animals, navigate in the dark, try not to slip down the path again. 

We were planning to get to Blackwood Mountain and the Washington lodge. Of course, we went a day earlier than the others, planning on cleaning and getting the place ready. What none of us idiots thought about doing, was to check the weather. About halfway there, the snow got worse. It came in quick patches, making driving hard, and freezing up the car. 

“Josh, it’s literally freezing in here, can you turn on the heater?” 

“It’s busted, was gonna get it fixed after the trip” 

“Of course you were” 

I lean back in my seat, pulling up my backpack and taking out my gloves. At least some part of me would stay warm. As we drive on a long straight row, he leans back and manoeuvres the car with his knee, bringing both hands up to his face to blow hot air into them. Poor guy. I remember that he brought some extra outerwear, just wondering where he left them. My thoughts fly to his bag, he couldn’t have placed them in the front, so back it was. I lean over the mid row and back, trying to find his bag in the back seats. 

“Where’s your backpack?” I ask, rummaging through a bunch of stuff. A blanket, some firewood, a plastic bag. Why is there so much stuff here? We don’t need all of it, and I know for a fact that the lodge has large stacks of firewood. 

“Keep looking” he laughs, not bothering to help me. 

“Josh, just tell me where you put it” 

He laughs, one hand going on the back of my thigh, slightly squeezing my flesh. That’s why he’s being difficult. He just wants to tease me. 

“Stop being a perv and tell me” I sigh, not exactly being a fan of my position. He should be busy driving, not checking me out. 

“But I’m enjoying the view” 

“The only view you should be enjoying is the road in front of you” 

I finally notice it, a small backpack with a scarf and gloves sticking out from under the seat. I lean a bit more forward to reach it, earning a whistle from the guy. I roll my eyes, grabbing the clothing and trying to move back. I get halfway before he speaks. 

“Hard swing” 

“Wha-”

The car takes a rough turn, making my body jolt to the side. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Can’t this man drive a little more carefully? If this unplanned storm doesn’t kill us, then he definitely will. I fall to the side, hips landing in his lap, faces against each other. He has that known playful smirk on his lips, proud of his dangerous accomplishment. 

“You good?” 

“You’re insane” 

“Nah, just a good driver” he shrugs his shoulders, trying not to laugh at himself. 

“You’re not a good driver” 

His arms move over me, holding onto the steering wheel in front of him. His eyes finally move to the road, and he keeps driving as if everything’s normal. I try to sit up, but his hands won’t budge, leading to me falling down again. 

“Josh, if you would be so kind” I force a tight smile, nodding to the caging arms. He looks down, the playful smirk still covering his lips as he thinks. 

“Do you have my gloves?” 

“Indeed I do” 

“Put them on me” 

I look at him in disbelief, what was he, a child? He can easily do that himself. I shake my head, laughing a little at the situation. No way am I going to do that. He has one hand on the wheel, the other held out to me. I roll my eyes, deciding that this is enough. 

I try to get up yet again, but this time, his empty hand finds my chest and pushes me down into him. I give a loud and dramatic sigh, which makes him fully reveal that stupid laughter of his that he’s kept in. 

“You know I could sue you for this?” 

“I can sue you too, disrupting the driver” 

“You made this happen” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” 

I give in, laying against him and relaxing while he drives. No way am I going to be his servant. He’s not that rich. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, both just minding our own thing. 

Just now, I realise how much warmer I feel while brushing against him. Body heats colliding as he holds me close. A cozy and sleepy murmur comes over me, and I close my eyes, drifting away as we continue driving off. 

***

I press my eyes forcefully together, opening them little by little. The outside is darker than before, and Josh’s still driving into the night, eyes focused on the road. I stretch, giving a yawn at the same time. He shifts his gaze, a smile immediately finding his lips. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Sleepy” 

“How long have I been gone?” 

“Around half an hour” 

I nod in reply, head turning to the dark forest and snowy rocks. We were almost there now. 

“And no death yet, I’m impressed” I comment, sitting up as high as he allows me. 

“Wind almost took the car about 10 minutes ago” 

My eyes widen in surprise. Is the weather really that bad? Shouldn’t we stop and wait for it to pass? The thought of it scares me, after all, the mountains this time of year are not that safe as everyone makes them out to be. I mean, if we’re in the lodge, it’s okay. But we’re not. We’re in a moving vehicle, which almost got flipped by the wind. 

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re almost there” 

I nod again. The parking lot is a bit more secluded than the road, so the wind won’t be as strong. But how’re we getting up to the lodge? The cable car is already a death trap, no way I’m going to sit in it during the storm. 

A road hole makes me yelp, body jolting up and down. I automatically grab hold of his arm, steadying myself. His lips thins as he bites them, eyes forced on the road. His breathing changes, big stuttering inhales as if to calm himself down. 

“Josh, are you okay?” 

He doesn’t look down on me, instead his vision is on the path ahead. His knuckles are white from gripping the wheel, and I glimpse a vein popping and going under his jacket. What’s going on with this guy? 

We finally swing into the parking lot, and he parks the car and turns off the engine. We sit in silence, both unsure about our next move. With his arms not in the way, I finally sit up. I grab his shoulder for help, and he takes his arm to my back for support. 

“I don’t think we should go to the lodge yet” he comments, looking out to the cable car station. 

“I know, we’d probably be blown to bits” 

“That’s one way of putting it” 

His other hand goes to my waist, pressing me down on him. That’s when I feel it. He’s hard, very hard. He’s been since the road hole. 

“Are you struggling a bit, Josh?” a smile creeping up on my lips. Oh, how pleasant to finally have some of the power. 

His hand goes to my hair, brushing it away. 

“Oh, you have no idea” 

His head moves closer, fingers gliding over my cheek. He’s cold, extremely cold. It’s like gracing ice taps against my skin. I pull away, taking his hands in mine and warming them.

“You’re freezing” 

“Better do something about it then” 

He moves into me, capturing my lips in his. I respond, opening my mouth a little and licking his lower lip. I don’t forget about his hands though, and carefully puts his gloves on them as we keep going. I change positions, and he helps me, letting me straddle him in the driver's seat. His hands go to my ass, kneading and caressing. I moan into the kiss, which he uses as an opportunity to stick his tongue in my mouth. He fiddles with something behind me, and before I know it, ice-cold fingers make their way down my pants, holding my cheeks. I gasp, the shocked feeling being overcome. This was extreme, why hadn’t he said something about it before. He chuckles against my lips, mouth moving to my jaw and neck, leaving sweet kisses all over. The wet spots get instantly cold when he moves away, and I shutter. 

“W-we should not do this here” 

“I know, I know” 

“We’re going to freeze to death” 

“A bit dramatic are we?” 

“J-Josh” he stops in his tracks, lips glossy and eyes lustful. We both know that we can’t start undressing. With the heater not working, and the snow storm getting worse, that’s the last thing we should be thinking about. God, how dizzy the whole situation makes me feel. I don’t want to be down here. I want to be up in the lodge, alone with him, in front of the fire. 

“Or get eaten by wolves” 

“No we’re not”

“What if an elk attack the car?” 

“We’re not a threat to them” 

“If we’re going to die, I need to confess something” 

“We’re not going to die”

“Five more minutes and your fingers would snap off as easily as bending a carrot” 

“True, but-” 

“Josh…” I put my glove-covered finger over his mouth, stopping his sweet remarks. If there was a time to say it, it had to be now, before we both froze to death, in his car, to be found tomorrow morning by the others. 

“I love you. And I know, we’ve had this whole deal or something where we’ve had sex, and yeah I mean several times, but that’s not the point because I couldn’t stop myself, and please don’t stop seeing me as a friend after this, I promise I’ll get over it, but it’s just something I need to get off my chest or else I can die and not-” 

He shuts me up with a kiss. Hands still on my ass, pressing me deeper against him. 

“Fucking hell, you talk a lot” 

“You already know that about me” 

“Just shut up and kiss me”

[skzfairyyydreamz]

Replaced? (Part7)

Genre: Skz smau, Text posts, Non!idolAu, Angst, friends to enemies, Mini series

Pairing: Bsf!skz , Fem!Reader, Stoner!Skz/Stoner!Reader, Bartender!skz, Club manager!Chan, Club security!Changbin, Bottle girl!Reader

Warnings: ‼️Slow build‼️strong language (obvi coming from the profanity queennnn) , mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of fighting, mentions of/implied SA, mentions of anxiety plz let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: thank you guys sooo much for all the love on this mini series, and my biggest apologies for the wait! i pinky promise NOT to take a whole month to post the next part!!! but with this series coming to an end prepare yourselves for non stop CHAOS DRAMA and ANGST! all feedback, reblogs, and replies are SAUR greatly appreciated !!! thank you for sticking around and reading my silly little stories!

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

<<<Previous | Next >>> Word count: 4K Screenshot count: 30

After what felt like 30 long and silent minutes of everyone collectively cleaning up the after math of that night, you finally broke the silence.. 

“Honestly Thank you guys sm for staying to help me with this crazy ass mess .. and you know…”  you spoke nodding your head in the direction of your bedroom referring to jeongin while avoiding saying his name like it was some type of bad omen.  

“No, Ofc!” Changbin spoke. 

“You know we wouldn’t leave you alone after all that happened tonight.” Felix added as he finished pushing all your furniture back into its designated places.  

“please" chris scoffed “as much time as we spend in this apartment, we’re practically your roommates! Ofc we’d stay to help out. ” he added as he came out the kitchen holding what sounded like a garbage bag full of empty solo cups and broken glass.  

“Girl go get some rest you're gonna need it, gimme that.” minho said while taking the broom and dustpan from your hands and shooing you away.  

“Agreed! ” Felix walked up behind you kissing the side of your head and gently rubbing your shoulders “You’re free to go shower and change or get comfy however you need darling.”  

“Nuh uh, you s-?” You turned around but he shut your protest down rather quickly. “I’m positive princess, go. We’ll take care of everything out here”  

“But -” 

“GO...I got it!” he turned you around ignoring the pout on your face as he nudged you in the direction of the hallway.  

It was nearly sunrise, and you were absolutely dreading the idea of having to face jeongin when he woke up. Even then in that moment walking into your bedroom to prepare for a shower, you dreaded even being in his presence. Just the thought of him possibly waking up at any given second was eating you alive, REGARDLESS to the sound of his grizzly bearlike snores and the sight of drool sliding down the sides of his mouth, indicating that he was VERY much sound asleep. However, You never even made it passed the doorframe of your room before the anxious knots in your stomach told you to turn around and run right back down that hallway.  

“ lix ... i cant- I cant do it.” you whisper panicked running up to him and grabbing his hand. 

“cant what baby ?”  “ i feel so nasty and guilty, i can't even look at him right now what if we wakes up!??”      

“ baby... first of all you have nothing to feel guilty for. And secondly, he slept through the sound of you trying bash sophies face in with glass liquor bottles...  I'm pretty sure that dude is not waking up any time soon my love” he let out a chuckle. “What if he does thoooo!??” you whined “ im not ready to face him babe what will i say to him huh??? Oh, hey there jeongin i just tried to kill your girlfriend because shes such a shitty unfaithful stupid little bitch, how did you sleep?” felix cackled out loud this time pulling you into a hug and kiss to calm your racing mind. “ okay okay I'll get your clothes for you, no worries princess”  

“ugh, thank you so much lix youre actually an angel“ 

“no problem jagi , tshirt or hoodie?”  

“hoodie” you continued to pout slightly , while trying to brush the weight of tomorrows worries away  “sweatpants or shorts?"

“shorts please” 

“mkay, be back in a jiff!!”  he began walking down the hall to your bedroom “pink towel, black loofa please!!” you yelled out to him. 

“you got it!” he answered back “you're so amazinggg, you deserved the world!! “ you thanked him aloud once more “ i already have her” he sing songed back to you as you smiled to yourself thanking the heavens you could go a least few more hours avoiding the inevitable.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           ~~~~~                                                                                                                                                                                           

“... no im telling you it was weird as fuck! Like her whole aura just completely changed when she saw him.” ( felix) 

“putting two and two together he clearly had to have said or done something to her for her to be so angry. We’ve known y/n for a long ass time and I've never seen her more mad than she was tonight.” (minho) 

“besides trying to murder sophie..” (changbin) 

“yes... besides that! Also not to mention his face was bright fucking red when we came back upstairs and they were the only two in the apartment.” (minho) 

“it WAS! Idk what happened but im pretty positive she smacked the shit out of him.” (changbin) 

“ hold on?... Yall left her ALONE  with that fucking scumbag?” lix raised his voiced stressfully running a hand through his hair as he scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, beginning to get more irritated by the conversation he and the boys were having. 

“WHOA! Hold on!” minho pointed at felix also scooting to the edge of his seat jumping quickly at the only opportunity he had to both calm felix down AND defend himself. “ it wasn't like that at all, the three of us went downstairs to get the birthday cakes out the car while y/n came upstairs because she had to use the bathroom. Alex was actually already here setting up his DJ equipment before y/n even got back!” 

“yeah thats true.. And that really only took about 10 minutes, truth be told. ” (chris) 

“and where tf was jeongin?!” (felix) 

“he and sophie had ran out to get ice” (changbin) 

“Listen, all i know is whatever happened it is NOT to be taken lightly. y/n is a tough girl and not much is going to make her cry so we WILL be getting to the bottom of this TODAY, THIS hour.” (chris) 

“ SHE CRIED!? ... oh imma kill him” felix let out a sinister almost emotionless chuckle as he slightly rocked back and forth in his seat being only seconds away from crashing out. 

“wait deadass? When??” (changbin) 

“im deadass. It was before the party started like right when the guests started arriving. I went in the kitchen just to chat with her and i noticed she was having a moment, she tried to brush me off but you know i always call her bluff.” (chris)

“and what did she say? Because Bin tried to ask what was wrong and she seemed too angry to even speak, she gave us a look but that was about it. she just poured herself a drink then went out to get some air on the balcony.”  (minho)

“ she didn't really tell me anything all she said was that she felt stupid and violated.. So ofc i told her i would handle that shit right then if she just told me what happened, but she insisted on dropping it and initially I wasn't going to but i just let it go and held her for a little bit once i saw her shed a few tears... however she did promise me that we would talk about it later and shes good for keeping a promise so ofc i trust her to do so.” (chris) 

“yeah... im ready to go to jail” Felix let out yet another emotionless chuckle. 

“okay, something definitely did happen between the two, yes. But lets just breathe and hear it from y/n first before we start collecting bail money.” ( changbin) 

“man fuck all that fr! I need answers this shit is really starting to eat at me” (felix) 

They were so caught up  in their conversation that they didnt even hear you come out the bathroom and back down the hallway. 

“So is sleep out of the question?” you spoke, making your Prescence known as they all snapped their heads in your direction. 

“entirely outta the question my love, we have quite a few things to talk about” felix responded patting the spot next to him on the sofa signaling you to sit and join the conversation.  

You hesitantly took a seat next to Felix on the sofa across from minho and chris, as changbin was sat in the loveseat to your right. Taking  a look around the room you let out a shaky sigh really not wanting to have this conversation after the hectic night you had but you knew you couldn't put it off any longer or they all would lose their fucking minds.  

“Take your time kiddo, no pressure.” Chris spoke softly sensing your body tensing up. 

“Whenever you're ready love, we trust you.” felix added holding your hand and kissing the back of your knuckles. 

“y/nnnnie dont look so upset” changbin spoke next “ you know we’re not here to scold you, you did nothing wrong we just want to protect you and know that you're safe.” 

“ we just want to know what happened is all babe.” felix pulled you into a hug and began rubbing your back to calm you down.  

“ i know i know...” you took a deep breath and let out another heavy sigh.  

“just relax a bit, I'll go make some tea.” minho spoke before getting up and walking to the kitchen.  

It took about an hour-long conversation to tell the guys what alex had did and explain everything in detail. Emotions were very high but somehow you were able to calm them all  down and convince them to let it go at least for now. Chris had kept insisting that you press charges against him but you let it be known that you genuinely didnt feel the need to because one, you were more than proud that you found the strength to defend yourself when you really needed to, plus you were almost positive that nasty smack you gave him would leave a bruising. Secondly, you knew that regardless to lix being calm in that moment, he was definitely still on hots and there would be absolutely nothing nobody could do to stop him from beating alex’s ass again the next time he saw him. So for you the score board was 3 to 1, in your head it was perfect girl math. (LMAO) and truth be told you really didn't want to get lix involved and have him end up with assault charges for beating this man's ass multiple times. You just wanted to let it go and forget it all for as long as you possibly could.  

After the conversation had died, everyone just sat in complete silence with their own thoughts for a few minutes. Tiredness, worry and deep frustration sketched over the faces of everyone in the room. Not that you didn't already know this but this moment made it so evident how much your friends and boyfriend truly, truly cared about you.  

“ughhh! That was alot..I need another blunt” Felix broke the silence with a deep sigh.  

You lifted your head off of his shoulder to get up from your spot on the sofa, reaching for your stash box sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “I’ll roll , yall can meet me on the balcony in 5” you left a kiss on the top of Felix's head before walking out to the balcony. 

A few minutes had passed before both chris and lix joined you on the balcony, while bin and minho stepped out on a breakfast run for you guys. It was a bit passed 7 a.m the sun was out and the birds were chirping. You sat in silence while the joint rotated between the 3 of you. What you would normally consider to be a beautiful morning, had actually become the one thing you were dreading the most. You tried to at least enjoy the morning breeze against your skin as you ignored the burning feeling in your chest that jeongin would be waking up pretty soon and you would then have to face yet another conversation you did NOT want to have.  

Just as you finished up your smoke session and went back inside you heard the door to your bedroom creak open with jeongins voice immediately following “hey, where's Sophie? She didn't stay?” 

“Speak of the fucking devil...” you whispered to yourself.  

“bro .. what exactly are you trying to say to me right now?!” jeongin raised his voice, you could see frustration visibly building within him.  

“jeong listen.. You really need to start seeing sophie for the person she truly is or youre gonna end up broken in the end.” you said as calmly as you could.  

“so what im supposed to breakup with her and end my relationship because you say so?!” 

“jeongin if you'd just calm down and listen to what i have to say you would understand where im coming from.”  

“well wtf are you saying y/n? Stop beating around the bush!” 

“basically me and sophie got into a fight last .. and it almost got physical.” 

“what?? y/n tell me you did not hit her?? what could have possibly happened while i was asleep for y'all to even get into it like that?!” 

“i didnt get the chance to but you can thank chris and felix for that” 

“so what youre telling me is that you get drunk and sassy then start picking fights with your friends? I swear you cant leave drunk women unattended for shit” jeongin rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he walked away to pick up his phone, most likely to check on his girlfriend. 

“wth? jeongin when i have i ever not been able to hold my liquor?! It was the end of the night the party was already over by that time and i had already sobered up, just shut up and listen for a moment.” 

He let out a sigh as he flopped down on the sofa with his eyes still glued to his phone “im listening” he replied with annoyance lingering in his tone of voice. 

There was a quick moment of hesitation as you shared a nervous look between chris and felix “ you know you're my best friend and i love you right?”   

Breaking his gaze from his phone, He finally looked up at you clearly super annoyed with the conversation at this point “ ...yes” he replied with a blank stare. 

“ and you know I'd never lie or do anything to hurt you right?” 

“right ... except try to beat up my girlfriend” he said in a low sarcastic tone rolling his eyes before looking at his phone again 

“it wasnt unprovoked, jeongin! theres more to that story!” 

“like i said , im listening!! But im not hearing shit?!” 

“sophie kissed me!” chris blurted out, not being able to take your stalling any longer.  

And just like, the air and the whole atmosphere of the room had entirely changed like a press of a button. His face went to stone as he stood up from the sofa with his phone tightly gripped in his hand.  

“what did you just say?” he raised his eyebrow challenging Chris in a cold tone. 

“she had been making advances and throwing herself at me from the moment you passed out in y/n’s room, i told her NO multiple times and she literally forced herself on me in the kitchen.” 

“bullshit!” he glared at Chris. 

“Lix and i walked in on it .. we literally seen it with our own eyes, jeong..” you defended Chris in the softest voice you could, really not wanting jeongin to get any angrier than he already was. 

“BULLSHIT!” he repeated, turning to scream in your direction this time. 

“YO! WATCH IT! Felix yelled back at him wasting no time to defend you. He quickly stood up in the middle of you two, reaching behind himself to grab your hand once he realized the loudness of his deep voice had startled you. 

“wtf is this some sick and twisted joke?!” 

“jeongin, mate ..we have no reason to lie to you. I know this is a lot to take in right now and its gonna be rough but Sophie is no good ... we’re your closest friends and we just want what's best for you.” chris tried to calm him even knowing that was likely not to happen. 

Jeongin said nothing, he just let out a sarcastic dry laugh as he walked away from the conversation. The apartment stood quiet waiting for him to return back to the living room. And when he did, he followed the silence, quietly flopping back down on the sofa once more to put on his sneakers.  

And that was Chris’s last straw, jeongin’s silence had sent him over the edge. “SO WHAT?? IM A LIAR NOW?.. AS  LONG AS WEVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS THIS IS HOW YOU ACT OVER A FUCKING GIRL THAT DOESNT EVEN DESERVE YOU TO BEGIN WITH!?” 

Jeongin kept his silence as he continued to take his time putting his shoes on almost as if he was ignoring Chris. 

“Well if that's what you think wait for minho and changbin to come back and ask them yourself, they were here for it was well!” 

“nah I'm good” jeongin put on a false nonchalant act.  

“so you don't believe any of us is what you're saying? Minho, bin, y/n, lix, and i are all just gonna lie on your girlfriend unprovoked??” 

“i just dont undertsand when we started ganging up on eachother instaed of talking shit out ??!” 

“IS THAT NOT WTF WERE TRYING TO DO RIGHT NOW??” chris barked back. 

“ yall BEEN holding hostility against sophie, you think im fucking dumb i peeped the energy shift a WHILE ago!!” 

“ thats because sophie is a fucking werido jeong!” you jumped in to defend chris once more “Shes been doing hella weird and shady shit for a long ass time, but for the sake of YOU we tried to keep the peace and keep it under wraps! I even distanced myself from her a while ago because shes been lying on me and acting hella phony. Youre like my little brother ofc i didnt want to bring it up and end up putting you into a predicament where you had to choose between her and your friends that would be fucking ridiculous ..” 

“You think i wanna be doing this right now?! Jeongin us having to have this conversation is hurting my fucking heart because you love so blindly!! you dont even realize what this girl is doing to you!” your passionate argument had turned into screaming at this point and you were afraid that the love you held for your best friend and the action of trying to protect him had gotten lost in translation.

“i dont realize what shes doing to me?? wtf is she even doing ?!!?” he barked back at you  clearly clueless and stubborn not even putting any effort to try and understand your point of view. 

“oh my... fucking goodness ..” felix let out a loud frustrated sigh as he slouched back into the sofa. He and chris both facepalming simultaneously as you just stood there looking at him like he had four heads.. 

“dude.. She basically cheated on you! She kissed me.. ANOTHER MAN!! That man being one of your best friends and your roommate...that's literally right under your nose!! so she clearly doesn't give a fuck about you, she didnt even have the decency to do it outside of your friend group, jeongin” at this point chris knew good and well that the only reason jeongin continued to argue back was because he was embarrassed and in denial. 

He stood quiet for a few seconds just upset and breathing heavy not really having much to say to continue defending sophie (because what is there even to defend DROP THAT HOE!) 

“so what, she just left after that happened?!” jeongin spoke again attempting to argue back 

“no... I tried to take her fucking head off because why would she ever do some grimey shit like that?! But these two wouldn't let me hit her so i kicked her outta my fucking house.” you spoke with annoyance.

“ that shit dont make no fucking sense why would she try to kiss chris when we’re literally dating and everyone that was in here knows that!!” he raised his voice again 

“bingo dipshit!” felix’s frustration had began turning into sassy side remarks  

“THAT RIGHT THERE IS OUR POINT EXACTLY!!” you screamed starting to feel like you were talking to a brick wall 

“not TRY might i add .. she DID kiss me. She quite literally grabbed my face and kissed me after i told her to stop.” chris added in a sarcastic tone, he was pissed that this conversation was even still going on. 

“call her.” felix chimed in but jeongin just glared in his direction not saying anything. 

“call her right now with all of us here and ask her why she got into it with y/n last night 

He went silent once more ignoring felix entirely before getting up from the sofa to go grab his jacket and keys. 

This silence was much thicker than each one previously, and it left loud feelings of frustration and utter disbelief lingering in the air.  

“jeong, you deadass?..” you spoke again, standing frozen. All the anger in your body wholly dissipating, being replaced with the hurt that was painfully evident in your voice as it trembled slightly. 

Realizing how badly he fucked up, jeongin once again chose to stay silent and avoid your gaze. 

“Denial is a fat bitch to swallow isn't it?” felix scoffed. 

“ Fuck off, felix!” jeongin bit back as he began walking towards the front door 

“right back at ya cunt!” felix barked in a harsh tone as he flipped him the bird 

“you're mad at the wrong people idk wtf else to tell you but if you wanna choose to be stupid for this fucking girl than have fun with the outcome!” chris dusted his hands with the situation and walked away as jeongin walked in the opposite direction, storming out of the apartment slamming the door behind him  

You stood there staring at the door almost stuck in a trance. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to come back through that door or for this to just be some bad dream  but it most definitely was not.   

Slowly turning around towards felix who was already slowly making his way towards you feeling the sadness in your aura. He gently grabbed your hand immediately rubbing his thumb over the back of your kunckles in an attempt to comfort you. Your watery eyes met his apologetic ones and he could feel everything you were feeling in the that moment. He was pissed because every single thing that you were scared of happening had just come true.  

“ lix.. Please tell me i did not just lose my best friend over this bitch..” your voice was almost a whisper with a barely audible sob leaving your mouth before you could even finish your sentence. The tears began to fall at a rapid pace and there wasnt much lix could even say to comfort you. “ i knew it... i knew this shit was gonna happen!” the tears kept flowing He felt so defeated, and the only thing he could do was the one thing he does best, and that was hold you. He held you on the sofa for hours. You had cried and cried, fell asleep, woke up and cried some. Minho and changbin had come back and immediately realized exactly what had happened. Chris filled them in on all the details of how ridiculous jeongin was being and of course they were just as heated as the rest of you were. The guys had all ended-up crashing in your guest bedroom before felix had woken up and carried you to your bed so that you could rest properly. It was definitely needed after so much emotional destress on top of you being awake for 24+ hours and all the partying and drinking that had happened right before all the drama.  

Taglist (Open) : @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @imastraykidsfanan@simpracha @turtledove824  @laylasbunbunny  @armystay89  @eclipsemina @4ln-stay8@aalexyuuuhm @scribblesnsketches05 @amarecerasus @euphoric-univers @stellasays45 @night-storm7 @vixensss @blossomlilly @jc003 @hanniesbubuwife @beccaskz@soyeonbean @kawaiijellyfishtimetravelr @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @gabriellamarie@livelaughloveskzmwah @thatshroomiegirl @flowerbunnii @whoa-jo @babygirlskz98@leftenemydestiny @dazzlingjade @hyuneyeon @nightmarenyxx @slayyparkjimin  @aliceskzfan@velvetmoonlght @here-to-read-and-read-fics (plz lmk if you would like to be removed or added)

[multifandom-exe]

Leather Jackets and Ketchup ‘Mishaps’- S.Black x Reader 

Word Count: 2.7k (my longest yet :p)  Request: hey there! can i get one with prompts 79, 174 and 175, with Sirius, please? thank you!  Prompts: 79. No its just… I cant believe your wearing my clothes”  174. “Did you see what she was wearing?”  175. “So what if I had sex with your ex?” 

A/N: this is a rewrite of an old fic from nearly 5 years ago. Find the terrible original here. Lmk if ive improved.  Warnings: None rlly, swearing, kissing, marlene hate (sorry marlene your my wife but youre sacrificed to the story) 

 A hogsmeade weekend! Practically the only thing keeping the students of Hogwarts from pitching themselves off the astronomy tower during their 6th year. You and Lily had planned to meet up with the boys later on for some drinks an some shopping, definitely spurred on by Lilys growing affection to James (no matter how much she denies it). 

You stared into the full-length mirror stuck to the wall. It felt as though something was missing in your outfit. Youd worn your favorite today, but it still didn't feel like enough. Lily sat on the bed behind you, looking as perfect as ever. 

“Can you stop hogging the mirror please, i need to do my makeup!” She nudged you with her leg that was hanging off the bed as a giggle bubbled up from her throat. 

“My outfit is not suffering because you want to look nice for James Potter!” You turned to her with that sly look as her face dusted rosy, pink, whilst she spewed phrases of denial. 

“Well, my makeup is suffering because you want to look nice for Sirius.” Now it was your turn to gasp.  

She had this idea that you were in for it with Sirius. You disagreed of course. Sure, i mean, you had feelings for him, you liked him. He was funny, attractive, and almost as smart as you. But it had been 6 years, if there was going to be any movement on that front, besides flirting that could make Casanova blush, it probably would've happened already. You were trying to let it go, but its difficult when you see him every day. 

“Not true! You know he doesnt like me like that, im totally over it!” You began observing yourself in the mirror again, as she gave you that, ‘whatever you say’, look. “Speaking of, though, a nice leather jacket is just what this outfit needs, do you have one?” Lily agreed and turned to look into her trunk for a jacket.  

“No, sorry sweetheart”.” You jutted your lip out and frowned a little. There goes your perfect outfit.  

After a little more observing in the mirror, whilst you watched Lily apply her makeup on the floor, the obvious thought entered your head. “You know who does have a leather jacket.” That mischievous smirk littered your face. “Sirius.”  

Lily then put a head in her hands, and you could see her reaction in the reflection of the mirror. “Sure you don't have a thing for him?”  

“Shut up lils, your just jealous of how goooood im gonna look.” You guessed Sirius wouldn't have a problem with it. Youd shared a lot of things over the years. Blankets, books, food, tea, you name it. 

She chuckled at that and finally stood up, giving herself a final glance in the mirror. “You know the boys will have a fit when they see you in that.” 

You rolled your yes, laughing softly. “Yeah, because those boys are the authority of fashion.” 

She giggled at that too, before picking up everything she needed for the day. “Well, whilst you commit grand larceny, im going to go get my pancakes!” She drawled sarcastically as she turned to leave.  

You muttered a soft goodbye as you also grabbed everything you needed. The boys had said before that you were free to use their dorm whenever, although Remus did add ‘Not for nefarious purposes Casanova’. You slipped out of your dorm, your boots hitting the floor with purpose. A woman on a mission. A leather jacket mission.  

The door to their dorm creaked open slowly, as if you were trying not to wake them. but you were surprised to see they weren't all still asleep right now, desperately savoring every extra 5 minutes. 

 Their dorm was an exact reflection of each of them. Vinyl records of the latest rock bands on the walls. Books and chocolate strewn about. Stubbed out cigarette butts (Don't tell Minnie). Dirty shoes and outfits from the last quidditch game. Mugs of tea forgotten about. It was so them. Everything you loved about your friends, all perfectly wrapped up in one little room. You made a mental note to spend more time here. 

As your eyes glanced around the room, you finally spotted it, dangling across the back of a chair that was pushed against his desk. It was surprising that it was actually here, since Sirius was very rarely seen without it. It had S.B written on the back in big white letters, and various patches from bands. But according to Mary, ‘the back of my outfit isn't my problem because i can even see it’. 

You slid it across your shoulders and instantly felt more comforted. The familiar scent that you loved enveloped you. You turned and checked yourself out in the boy's mirror. Now this was a complete outfit. Perfect for a Hogsmeade weekend. 

You slipped back out of the boy's dorm and started making your way down to the great hall for breakfast. 

You pushed open the heavy doors to the great hall, the smell of fresh breakfast food immediately hitting you. You skipped down to the table, going to meet up with the girls to discuss the future Hogsmeade antics.  

You giggled as you jogged past the marauders. With the prettiest smile, you waved to them. “Hi boys, don't cheap out in Hogsmeade later!”. You rushed to meet with the girls, oblivious to all the eyes that were on you. 

As you sat down, the boys, who were a little further up the table, all sat gawking at you. James nudged Sirius excitedly. “D’ya see what Shes wearing mate?” 

He had seen, which is why, when James had asked him, he had barely been able to form a response. He had felt the wind be knocked out of him as he saw you giggling and waving, clad in his leather jacket. It was almost like he was in a trance, raking his eyes over every inch of your frame, wondering how on earth that happened. And how he could get it to happen every single day. His thoughtfulness was broken by his friend's voice belting across the table. 

“Oi, (Y/N), you look absolutely astonishing in Padfoot’s jacket!” The sound of your name made you whip your head up, as you giggled with a blush coating your cheeks. Just as quickly as he had shouted, Lily had shouted back. 

“Dont be jealous James, just because you don't want to share him!” This caused all your friends to burst into a fit of laughter, all except one. Marlene was holding a firm glare at you from across the table. 

The boys vehemently questioned Sirius for the next 5 minutes. Questions of ‘did you know she was gonna wear that?’ or ‘did you finally make a move?’ or ‘i bet you're loving this’. The latter wasn't really a question, more a very correct observation which made him blush. 

Their conversation was cut short however, when they heard a clatter of plates from a little way down the table. They all snapped their heads toward the sound and found you and Marlene glaring at each other across the table. If looks could kill, wow. It had honestly only been a few minutes since you arrived, and they were all puzzled as to what could've happened in such a short time. 

And then, as if you were reading their minds. “So what if you had sex with your ex?” Came from you, as you flicked your head to the side condescendingly. The boys' jaws dropped; they probably would've hit the floor if there wasn't a table in the way. James looked as if he was watching the best soap opera of his life. 

Sirius and Marlene had a fling a few weeks back. It obviously meant more to her than him. And through the pangs of jealousy, you had comforted her. But it seems that wasnt enough for her, she wanted you to drop Sirius entirely. 

Sirius felt a jab into his ribs, and he quickly dragged his eyes away from the scene. “Ow!” He mouthed silently, trying not to disturb the tension. Remus rolled his eyes and mouthed back, ‘did you actually sleep with her?’. Now it was Sirius’ turn to roll his eyes as he whispers. ‘Obviously not, you know she doesn't like me back’.  

‘Yeah, he wishes. Peter added quietly, which caused Sirius to blush and tut, before they all turned their attention back to the scene. 

“Listen, im sorry he didn't want you, but that's no reason to treat me horribly, because he wants me now, is it?” The condescension in your voice was enough to grate on anyone who was on the receiving end. 

“Not wrong on that one.” Remus whispered quietly, causing Sirius to whack his arm lightly. HIs heart rate sped up like crazy. Did you know he liked you, all this time? Or where you just trying to get under her skin. The thoughts felt overwhelming.  

And then, It almost felt as if time slowed, as they watched Marlene snap. She grabbed the jug of pumpkin juice on the table and dashed it all over you. You had an utterly shocked look on your face. Not just because you were covered in pumpkin juice, but also because you were slightly impressed, she stood up for herself.  

But alas, war does not stop because of bravery. Your hand quietly slid a bottle of ketchup under the table as you spoke. Marlene had missed it, but it didn't get past Sirius. “You know Marlene, I wouldn't wanna ruin that pretty fake blonde hair of yours.” You laughed cynically, lifting the ketchup bottle.  

That second, Sirius jumped from his seat and ran down the table, grabbed your waist and hauled you up in his arms. He was already dragging you away as you pressed down on the bottle, squirting it all over her. 

“Ugh! You Bitch!” She screamed as she desperately tried to rub the ketchup from her face, with the girls next to her trying to calm her down. 

You laughed maniacally as you struggled against Sirius's grip while he carried you out of the great hall. Phrases of ‘let go Sirius!’ and ‘it wasn't my fault!’ fell from your mouth. Youd eventually stopped struggling about halfway to the common room, accepting your fate. 

When you finally reached the common room, he dropped you lightly onto one of the couches, and loomed over you, like a teacher about to reprimand you. 

“Sirius! Why did you drag me out of there I was winning?” The adrenaline was still clearly running through your veins as you laughed. By the look on his face, he did not find it funny. 

“(Y/N). You’ve just lost your friendship with Marlene, and potentially just sacrificed your friendship with Lily and Mary.” That definitely soured your mood. Suddenly, it wasn't very funny. “Why, in Godric Gryffindors name, did you do that?” 

You threw your hands down on the couch and pouted. “You wouldn't get it, Pads.” You sighed and tried to turn away from him. 

He had crouched down to your level now, turning you back to him with a hand on your knee. “Oh yeah, what’s so possibly bad that it warranted staining a girl, apparently fake blonde hair, news to me by the way, red with ketchup?” You tried to hide your giggle at his comment and did your best to keep silent. “Seriously, did she insult you or something? Whatever it was couldn't have warranted that.” 

You sighed again as the argument replayed through your head. You could already feel the anger building up in you again. “You should’ve heard what she was saying about you Sirius, it was all ‘he’s this, he’s that’ And then! She insinuated I slept with you, for my own personal gain, not because I liked you, not because Im in love with you, she thought I did it for bragging rights! Which is absolutely ridiculous by the way. Anyone who uses someone for bragging rights is absolutely disgusting, especially if they use you. So no, her insulting me wasn’t enough to warrant ketchup hair, but insulting you was!”  

You were bordering on shouting at this point, although your anger was misdirected. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your shaking hands. After a beat, you lifted your head to look at him, worried youll still find an angry look in his eyes. 

Instead, he was gaping at you. You furrowed your brows, questioning the incredulous look on his face. 

“You said you loved me.” He whispered lightly, worried if he spoke too loudly the words might crack his resolve.  

Your eyes widened as you studied his features. “I did not!” You tried to insist but the shock caused it to come out smaller than intended. 

“Yes, you did! You love me!” A smirk spread across his face as he pointed a finger at you. There was another beat of silence, before you jumped up from the couch and tried to run away from him. 

“Come here!” Unfortunately for you, his tall stature was not just for show, as he quickly caught up with you.  

He caught up with you as you rounded the couch again, pushing you down onto it. He had you captured between his arms. All he did was stare at you, into your eyes. 

“Im sorry your jackets covered in pumpkin juice.” You spoke softly in the space between you two. 

“It's fine i just...” His eyes racked over your figure once more. “I just can't believe your actually wearing my clothes.” 

You giggled in response and muttered low apologies. 

“Plus, I like the taste of pumpkin juice” He smirked, capturing your gaze again. Obviously, you didn’t get the memo, as your response was… 

“Taste? I know you're a dog, but you don't lick your-” but your words were soon cut off by Sirius’ voice. 

“For once in your life, be quiet!” He chuckled lowly before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. It was slow at first, soft, almost anticipatory, but it quickly sped up, almost like it was 6 years of emotions spilling out into one kiss. 

“I love you too, by the way” He breathed out as you broke apart, your foreheads laying against each other 

“Well id be very upset if you kissed somebody you didn't like, like that” You giggled, lightly running your hand through his hair. 

“And i love seeing you in my jacket by the way. But maybe next time tell the truth, and dont antagonize and cause a scene.” His reprimand fell short since he had the dopiest grin on his face. “But thank you for standing up for me.” 

You didn't think your grin could get any wider, “Of course.” You lay another kiss on his lips. Maybe Lily was right, you are definitely in for it. 

 Bonus 

The portrait hole swung open as James, Remus and Peter tried to search for their friend. Who was wrapped up in his own little world with his sweetheart on the couch. 

They stepped through as James tried to shout up to the dorm. “Pads? We're going to Hogsmeade soon!” His shout wasnt answered, so he glanced around the room. He found you two nuzzled together on the couch, only breaking away at the sound of his voice.  

“Oh, Christ alive, Pads get a room! Peter cover your eyes!” James wrapped a hand around his friend's eyes as you and Sirius burst into a fit of giggles on the couch.  

“Were coming!” You both untangled from each other and shifted off the couch. 

“I cant believe that was what got them to confess! A jacket! D’you think it would work the same if i wore Lilys clothes?” And with a smack of the back of his head from Remus, the group left to finally enjoy their Hogsmeade weekend. 

A/N: lmk how i did, leave requests for any hp character. comment for taglist. i love u

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[icarusredwings]

Welcome to Tonys Pizza

Tonys is used to having heros (and likewise) frequent their joint. Mr. Laufeyson want a pie? Got it. Peter want a slice? A comin right up. Hell! A cocker spaniel and a mutt wanna kiss out back over a meta balla? Fuck it. This is new york! As long as dem dogs aint from jersey.

But one of their longest, and possibly weirdest customers is- you guessed it. Wade.

Here at Tonys we got one saying. You make miya mama cry? You getta slap with da pie. Unfortunately this was true until a lawsuit in '17.

But the point still stands.

So one day, when their friend comes with a bit of extra peperoni on him? Who are they to judge? However, They DO heavily judge the fact that he just ordered a large supreme minus everything except the olives and pineapple.

"What!?? Wade you're gonna make me ma cry!" Tony jr (Tony, being his father, who tragically passed when a group of fellas thought 'pizza' was code for dope and not actual pizza) yells, throwing his hands up.

"I know, I know, but you did it for me last time!"

"Last time, my father also kept pineapples just for you in the fridge! Can't be doing that anymore, bad for business."

"Oh but the rat manning the brick oven isn't?"

"Wha!- Who told you bout- cha know what? Fine. Fine!! Aye Vinny! Our pal Wade here wants the usual!"

"WHAT!?" Came from the kitchen before a man comes out, a long rat tail in the back under his hat. You can take this literally or metaphorically.

I don't care. Im just tellin this story not writing it.

"You want me a go buy a whole pineapple just for one pizza!?"

"Yes."

He sighs, loudly taking off his apron and slammed it on the counter, muttering under his breath. "Why always the crazy ones? Move to new york ma said. Its good buisness ma said. ALWAYS the crazy ones!"

"Love ya vinnnyyy~" Wade cooes, watching him leave. Just as he does, The bell rings again. He leans on the counter with a happy grin.

"Welcome to Tonys! Ya make my mama a- c-Cry?!"

"What's taking so long?" Logan grumbles, having just wanted to go home already.

"You're the wolverine.. ThEE wolverine! Aha!! I need to call my mom! She's not gonna believe this! The Wolverine is in OUR shop!!"

Wade giggles, watching as Logan tilts his head at the attention. "Whats with him?"

"You're the Wolverine, bucko. That's a big deal around this place. Now, what do you want on your pizza, big boy?"

".. they do chorizo?"

"Mhmmm~ why? In the mood for some sausage?" Wade teases, smirking more as he coud hear Tony on the phone in the back.

"Ma! Its him! Its really him! Yeah- no, Im lookin at him!"

"....people like you Logan." Wade smiles to him, seeing him frown. "..They like the old Logan.. they think im him."

Wade's toothy grin expands, standing and leaning against him. "With all due respect, Loagie? You're nothing like him. And I love that."

"Hm."

_____

"Alright thank you guys!"

"No problemo, extra pepperoni!" Tony calls, smilin because his tip jar was now full.

"What the fuck did he just call you?" Logan turns. It wasn't hard to tell he was nicknamed this after his skin.

Putting a hand on his forearm, Wade giggles. "Easy tiger. It's an inside joke. When I first came back- like this" he gestures to his face" I asked them for extra pepperoni. They asked how much, and I said as much as I got on my face. Ever since he's called me extra pepperoni. Hey why do you get to be "super cool wolverine" and im just extra pep?"

Logan shrugs, taking the pizza box as he looks at the label, stopping on a fairly not busy side walk a few houses from the apparentment.

"Wait a sec... Wade.. you did tell them one of these were mine right?"

"Huh? What do you mean? I.. I thought I did?"

Opening the boxes, there stood two perfect pinapple olive, chorizo pies. Steaming and ready to be devoured.

The label on the receipt said "Poolverine special"

Logan cringes. "You put pineapple on our pizza??"

But Wade gasps, eyes lighting up. "Sweet salty AND spicy!! Logan, you're a genius!!"

Lets just say.. Wade picked off all the pineapple from Logan's half of the pizza, and he definitely would be returning for more poolverine specials..

Inspired by @sirwadewilsonfromimgur

Enjoy your very stereotypical ficlet

[grimmweepers]

even before i started reading i was SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG at the content tags. it’s so up my alley and i knew i was going to love this. i wish i could idk take this all in and rub it all over my body and eat it hehe.

but courtney!!!! where has your writing been all my life!! i can’t believe this is your first time writing sukuna. you write him so amazingly and you have such an eloquent way of setting the scene and describing feelings that i just feel so immersed. it genuinely feels like i’m getting pulled away when i have to stop reading. and a whopping 8.3k words… you have spoiled me 🥹💖

i also really appreciate how you characterised reader (me… i can’t believe it!!!). every dialogue reader says just has me nodding and agreeing and cheering her on because i, too, would say those things. while i was reading i made a list of parts that made me unwell /pos because i tend to do that when i read and if you do not mind, it does involve screaming so be prepared !!!! :

They carry the weight of something unspoken a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity it will not be done poorly.”

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate

HE IS SO LOVING IN THE MOST SUBTLE AND SUKUNA-ESQUE WAYS IM SO GOOEY RN!!!!!!

i’ll just be including this entire thing because it’s so beautifully written and i still can’t believe it’s about me.

YOU ARE SO THOUGHTFUL AND I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW I ACKNOWLEDGE AND AM OBSESSED WITH THESE EASTER EGGS. love changes people and if this isn’t the most crystal clear form of proof….

the whole hansel and gretel scene made me giggle. his nodding of approval when they spoke about eating the kids and luring them in lmfaooo!!!! i’m crying KGVAJAHAAJABNWJWAHAN and i love the way you characterised his tummy mouth to be like a lil puppy. it almost makes it endearing, especially imagining it dusted with cookie crumbs and frosting hehe so silly

“This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

I LAUGHED OUT LOUD

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

ANOTHER FAVE. he can sound like such a baby sometimes HAHAHAHHAHAAH poor ‘kuna getting hot and bothered by christmas

OH AND THE PART AT THE SOFA WHERE WE WHERE WE WHERE WE AHGQBAJFQBHANHABAJQHQBWNJQVABAJWHWVWBJWHWBWKJWBWNWKWJWBWNWKHWBWNWJWBWBWJWJBW WJWJWBWNWJWJWBW SKWKWJBWWKWK sigh that’s all i have to say about that

AND WAIT THERES MORE…. WITH HIS TUMMY TONGUE KISSING ME NOW HFFGABAJAJQHABAJAJBANAKAJABAJAKAJANP. that scene was so absolutely HOT. it’s only 12:30pm here but i just woke up and wow what a way to start the day. i never thought i’d say this but sukuna is so adorable trying to guess what i’m gifting him

OH MH GOD HE GIFTED ME PERFUMEEEEEEEEEE THAT HE CRAFTED HIMSELF AND IT SOUNDS SO PERFECT AND ETHEREAL I WISHED I HAD IT IN MY HANDS RIGHT THIS INSTANCE 😭😭😭 the blends the notes - i wish it were real. courtney this is the best!!!!!

“You see me,” he finally speaks, uncharacteristically hushed. You see him—demon and protector, destroyer and creator, ancient force and the being who has learned to nestle mortal joy in hands only meant for destruction

the sheer rawness in this paragraph. i’m in awe. i’m also hushed because the way you write makes me cry. you really explain him in the same way i view him :(

“And I see you, Ryu.”

AND WHAT IF I DIED WHAT THEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM TEARING UP. THIS IS TERRIBLE. MY HEART IS JUMPING OUT OF MY CHEST

The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

hehe what can i say… spiders scare me… monsters don’t … like sukuna

AHFDHFHFJJGBA AND THE END. thank you so so so so much for the gift. i can tell you really did your research and i am eternally grateful and will be keeping this close to my wee heart. i don’t talk about sukuna all that often anymore but he was my first ship and first comm ever EVER! so he will always remain special to me. and lately i’ve been feeling a little doubtful about that ship. only because i begin to wonder if our personalities would even mesh well which would inevitably lead to me getting insecure about sukuna becoming soft for me. but the fic - your gift - showed me that even after all these years, ryukuna can still work. that he can love me. and that i can love him while still being myself. i’m so sorry this is so rambly and long. i woke up with my heart a lil heavier today for unrelated reasons but this just made me feel 1999999616161881 times better. you have such a way with words that scratches an itch in my brain and i know i will be coming back to this when i miss sukuna or when i’m feeling sad. every time you referred to me as Queen i get a little giddy. because even without sukuna, that is the type of confidence i should have. that’s how i should see myself. i am a fiery woman by nature so it’s a huge affirmation seeing myself depicted this way. in fact reading this might give me the confidence to talk about him more and even write about him again. what a wonderful thing gifts can be :[

courtney thank you for your time and kindness and thoughtfulness and talent and all of the above ! may YOU have a merry christmas and may YOUR heart always be full <3 i am elated!! on cloud 9!!

Merry Christmas from my little corner at the @pixelcafe-network. Thank you so much for hosting this gift exchange! I had so much fun writing this for my elf @grimmweepers. Your Christmas list gave me the opportunity to write Sukuna for the first time. I wanted to lean as much into your likes as much as possible so that it feels like it's you in this story.

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: True Form!Sukuna x Reader (Ryu)

Rating/CW: slight dark romance, fluff, implied sexual content, dark themes (references to violence, blood, destruction, and a hint of cannibalism because it's Sukuna). MDNI!

WC: ~8.5K

Summary: Sukuna gives in to mortal festivities, for the promise of a worthy gift, unaware that some traditions leave marks deeper than ancient power.

Divider: @cyberbeat @arminsumi @firefly-graphics

The winter night drapes itself across the ancient estate, stars scattered above like diamonds on black velvet. Fresh snow has transformed this formidable domain into something almost magical—though no amount of pristine white can truly soften the centuries of power that seems to pulse through every shadow of the grounds.

You used to take these walks alone, finding solace in the environment that gave way to the shifting change of the seasons. But now, on this chilly and almost silent night, your solitary footprints are accompanied by another. Deeper, more commanding treads belong to Sukuna, whose very presence seems to make the stars above burn brighter, as if they, too, acknowledge the power that moves beneath them, feeding off the cursed energy he emits with every breath.

Your exhale forms a frosty white cloud before vanishing into the night air. It’s cold, far too cold for a walk, but you’re out here to clear your thoughts, to quell the overwhelming urge to ask Sukuna a question that you don’t want to imagine the answer to.

The thought first emerged when fall gave way to winter, the autumn leaves replaced by the starkness of bare branches now hidden beneath blankets of snow. The thought of markets late at night adorned in yellow lights, of hot cocoa and gifts wrapped in red ribbon.

The words, having coiled behind your teeth for days like a spring, finally slink past your lips. “I was thinking…what if we celebrated Christmas together?”

“Christmas.” The word leaves his mouth not as a question, but as if it’s not worth inflection.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting your rolling anxiety. He’s never been one for new things. This is his domain, after all—his home, his formidable walls that he has erected and ruled with an iron fist. The mere thought of anyone—let alone a mortal—suggesting something outside his design is almost laughable.

You pause in your footsteps, tracing his looming shadow in the snow before you look up at him. He’s tall, looming with a height that comes not from this realm, his silhouette dwarfing everything around him. While you are covered in furs and wool and warmth, he stands in a simple black Haori, barely covering his skin and open to show his chest.

The dark markings of his tattoos glow like black embers in the moonlight, each one a testament to the ancient power that pulses beneath his skin. Two pairs of muscular arms fold across his chest, large and thrumming with strength. An archaic strength that can level cities and destroy with little effort, yet those same fearsome arms cradle you with unexpected gentleness in the depths of night.

The fact that you understand this side of Sukuna, gives you the strength to press on.

“It’ll be our first Christmas together,” you press.

“A mortal festivity,” he claps back, naturally sharp but with little heat.

“I’m a mortal,” you counter, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the menacing glare you can see right through. “And from what I remember, I am your Queen.”

Quadruple crimson eyes narrow from your truthful declaration, their glow cutting through the frost-laden air like embers in the snow. The two on the right gleam brighter against the rough texture of his half-petrified cheek, like jagged stone contrasting with smooth flesh on the other side. “You mistake indulgence for approval.”

You shrug, nonplussed, sniffing the chilly air up your runny nose. “Then indulge me. Mortals, like myself, put up Christmas trees, decorate their homes, bake treats, and watch movies.”

He hums, taking a step toward you. As he draws closer, the air shifts. While you have no cursed energy, you’ve come to know his intimately. It presses against your skin like an unseen force, electric and stifling, its movements mirroring the emotions he tries to smother. You’ve learned to read it like your favorite book, though it’s a story only you seem privy to, and you don’t intend to let him know.

“Indulge me?” you try again.

He remains unconvinced, his characteristic indifference plucking at your cold skin as you look up at him unflinching. It’s not like he denies you often. Sukuna, for as powerful as he is, gives to your many asks with a wave of his hand as if your happiness is unwarranted, even if his gaze flickers to you minutely for praise at haven catered to you.

Your confidence has only grown steadily, but that anxiety that curls around an ask still tastes sour. So you pull out another mental note card, a line you practiced in the mirror for days for this very moment.

“Gift-giving is also another tradition,” you sigh in faux nonchalance, pursing your dry lips as you try to ignore the flicker of curiosity you see on his face. The subtle tick of his jaw, the way one of his eyes tightens just so, the feel of his cursed energy pausing in its movements as if to hear you more clearly. “I know you’d never turn down any sort of offering. Especially from your Queen.”

Only seconds of anxious silence pass before that deep hum permeates the air, a gentle give. “You use that title often, Ryu.” You shrug again, biting the flesh of your cheek to suppress the victorious smile you can feel in your muscles. “Why must I wait for a specific day of the year to receive a gift? I can simply take what I want with little effort.”

His hubris knows no bounds. Neither does your perseverance.

“You put up with a few days of Christmas cheer, and I’ll make sure you get the best gift ever. Something wonderful and fitting for the King of Curses,” you promise, hoping to bring him home with your sales pitch. “But no griping.”

Sukuna scoffs, indignation heavy in the sound as he puffs white smoke into the air. “I do not gripe.” The look you throw him is unimpressed; one brow arched in a silent challenge that grants you a narrowed-eyed glare of concession in return. “Why do you assume you will get what you want?”

He reaches for you as he complains, and despite his sharp tone, you lean into the weight of his touch. You’ve come to know the language of his hands, each gesture a revelation of the complex nature he embodies. Like now, as he adjusts the furs draped around your shoulders—precious things hunted and skinned himself. His movements are deliberate, with hands impossibly gentle despite their proven capacity for destruction.

“Because you see me,” you whisper, the words soft but heavy with meaning. They carry the weight of something unspoken, a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice—your understanding of his care beneath his praise, his protection weaved into his possession.

A sales pitch now seems trivial, disrespectful even, in light of how the tone has shifted around you. Shame prickles at your skin, but it fades just as quickly, overwhelmed by the truth of your words. You do see him, even when he's being stubborn.

Sukuna’s answering hum to your question—to the anxious worry that started this conversation—reverberates through the air, an unspoken approval that settles in the space between you both.

Days later, the skies bloom with gentle hues of cotton candy—pale blue and pastel pink, slowly darkening as the sun peeks on the horizon. The dawn of winter greets you with its chilly embrace, its breath sharp and unrelenting, its touch frostbitten. You’re bleary-eyed as you shuffle over broken branches and moss-covered paths in the East forest.

The weight of your determination keeps you moving, even as your body protests, regretting your tenacity because why would Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, buy a tree when he can simply ‘get one from the backyard.’

“I like that one,” you offer, shakily pointing with a heavily gloved finger at a modest six-footer, its snow-laden branches slumping under the weight.

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity, it will not be done poorly.”

You’re far too cold to point out his first gripe of the day. His voice carries that familiar edge, but beneath it rests a note that only you can hear—the same careful attention he uses when observing the movements of his enemies, now turned to the expansive forest to the east of his estate.

You close your mouth around an exhale, your cheeks puffing like a fish in your own rendition of a pout as you follow him. The forest stretches silent and vast around you, a living extension of how far his power goes. Sukuna stops abruptly, still as stone as he surveys the trees with a menacing gaze. The dominance he exudes seems to make the air itself hold its breath. You’re simply a spectator—watching an apex predator stalk its prey—it would be a marvelous sight if you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“This one,” he declares at last, voice carrying the familiarity of pride and authority as he looks up at a magnificent pine.

It’s uncharacteristically different in every way; a shadow brown trunk as thick as his waist, strong branches that house deep green needles, forming their own canopy over the other and covered in the white blanket of snow. Its towering height practically pierces the sky, a physical representation of how the being in front of you sees himself—ambivalent and all-seeing.

With a flick of two fingers, Sukuna’s Cleave technique slices cleanly through the thick trunk. The looming pine shivers, snow plopping from its arms in white globs before it slowly falls to the ground with a muffled thud. The wind that picks up from the disturbance tousles his pink hair, strands whipping against his marked face. One of Sukuna’s muscular arms grabs his prize and effortlessly hoists it onto his shoulder.

You can’t help but admire the broad expanse of his back. The curve and dip of muscle against black markings that shift with each movement, the skin warm to the touch despite how cold he makes himself seem.

The sight of him makes you think of his Christmas gift—your secret project—the fabric carefully chosen to embrace that strength with something just as enduring. You wonder if he will notice the details, the painstaking intricacy you’ve chosen just for him.

His gift is soon forgotten when his gaze falls on you, an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Carmine pools that invite you to step closer and gaze beneath its liquid, to see small slivers of vulnerability presented in the form of the pine on his shoulders. He’s waiting, expecting not praise for his strength, but praise for what he has provided. An offering.

You smile gently, genuinely, and without quivering despite the temperature. “I love it,” you compliment, watching as your words card over his offering like a caress that only fans the flames of his pride. His belly mouth curves into a smirk, chuffed in agreement with its host, white teeth glistening and ghostly breath puffing in steaming plumes.

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you, tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate, his unspoken need for you to get warm carving a smile onto your face.

In Sukuna’s vast estate, where shadows roam, and servants move with silent reverence, there is no room for joviality and merriment. He rules unflinchingly, with a face usually etched in disinterest and a heart that beats only in the throes of violence and battle. But since you’ve set foot in his domain that he keeps dark and teeming with fear, things have changed.

Now, the halls carry the scent of your vast perfume collection, a blend of smoky oud and earthy florals that linger in the air long after you pass. The servants, once bound by fear, now offer gentle smiles to the mortal who goes against the rules of this cursed realm.

Now, the shadows walk with you, satisfying your thirst for the paranormal as they follow you like a silent watchdog, a testament to the orders of their master—a being with four arms, four eyes, and a grudging acceptance of your presence.

Now, the mortal who carved her way into Sukuna’s domain with hardly a blink, the mortal who can see beneath his veneer of bleach-white bone and hardened blood…

Now… that mortal has decided to bring Christmas to these ancient halls.

Darkness now flickers with light. Pine garland decorates the windowsills in the expansive front room of Sukuna’s estate, its sharp scent striking through the air with every brush of your fingertips along its needles. The front room, what was once empty and meant only as a tunnel to another destination, is now lively from your touch.

A tall fireplace, its mantle wrapped in garlands of cypress and silk ribbons the color of deep red wine that reminds you of his eyes, casts a warm glow over goblet-red curtains that frame looming windows and fur-lined chairs that you curl into when you read your many books.

Sukuna has molded his domain to fit your silent requests. Your Christmas spirit that Sukuna continues to entertain if only for the promise of his reward, breathes life. His spoils—the cleaved pine—stands proudly by the fireplace, its branches wrapped in shining white lights and delicate ornaments.

Uraume was diligent, while unwilling to entertain anything pertaining to mortals, their loyalty outshines their disinterest when it comes to their Queen. Said loyalty shines in the snow that rests on each emerald branch, crystalline shimmers colored amber and orange from the roaring flames of the fireplace. Their technique ensures it will never melt, an ethereal touch of winter preserved.

You can’t help the warm smile that graces your features as you admire the transformed space. But it’s the scents wafting from the kitchen that draw you from your admiration. Cinnamon and nutmeg dance with something darker, a metallic tang that speaks to how well you’ve learned to blend your world with his.

Uraume, for as menacing as a curse user they are, has the cooking skills worthy of Michelin praise. The kitchen is their sacred domain but is now a battlefield of flour and spices, mortal and ancient alike. The heat from multiple ovens warms your bare toes, and copper pots and pans clank and steam with soluble renditions of a Christmas feast.

Sukuna’s dutiful servant moves about the kitchen with practiced ease, refusing help from the other cursed spirit-like servants in your presence no matter how many times you’ve insisted that you don’t mind.

“The consistency is correct,” Uraume observes, subtle praise in their soft tone as they nod toward the ruby liquid you’ve folded into dough. “Sukuna-sama will find it acceptable.”

You hide your smile at their careful choice of words. Months of coexistence have taught you to read the subtle ways in which Uraume expresses care—their meticulous attention to your recipes when cooking for you, your happiness from delicious meals enough to mask their fondness they will never admit to.

“We’re going to make gingerbread houses,” you exclaim an hour later to an indifferent Sukuna. His presence in the kitchen is rare, and you’ve had to ignore the peep of garbled eyes from cursed spirits who poke through the kitchen doors in disbelief before scuttling away in fear of being caught.

The counter is littered with cooled cutouts of gingerbread house walls, arches, and windows. White icing in pastry bags that will serve as glue and gumdrops to be adorned as paneling is the perfect setup for this small occasion between you both.

Despite Sukuna’s menacing demeanor, he is astute. It’s why he’s achieved the status he has now, why he’s feared among the world, both mortal plane and astral. So he wastes no time piecing together his own creation, his eyebrows creased in concentration fitting of a warrior planning a siege.

As Uraume flutters around you both, you recount the tale of Hansel and Gretel, Sukuna’s crimson eyes gleaming with interest at the more gruesome parts of the brothers Grimm.

“So this witch,” he muses, two hands delicately pipping white icing for a jagged wall, his other two hands covered in flour. “She devoured children who wandered into her domain.” His eyes twinkle with approval, his belly mouth curving into a devious smirk. “An acceptable response to trespassers.”

“She built the house to lure him in,” you add, swallowing a chuckle as you feel his cursed energy wiggle around you in interest. “That’s why it was made out of sweets.”

“Why did these children not become a proper meal?”

“They outsmarted her,” you explain, watching in muted supplication as his face drops from satisfaction to disapproval. “Pushed her into her own oven.”

His belly mouth scoffs, frowning as his thick tongue tastes the spiced air. “Mortals.”

As your special cookies perfume the air with metallic sweetness, you admire Sukuna as he works. He utilizes all four hands to guide his gingerbread creation to completion, clicking his teeth when a wall crumbles in his palms and humming in delight when the icing holds steady. Your gingerbread house lays half-created as you watch him, observing in silence until his masterpiece sits before you.

It’s a fortress—walls as imposing as a cathedral’s, windows designed to daze would-be escapees. The path to the door winds hypnotically, sugar-crystal steps that seem to pulse with cursed energy, leading young feet exactly where he wants them. The final touch? Miniature figurines made of pretzel sticks and marshmallows that are arranged at the front door like an offering.

“The witch’s failure was in her execution, not her concept,” he declares. Where normal gingerbread houses invite warmth, his promises something darker—a blend of Christmas tradition and Sukuna’s deadlier inclinations. “No child would think to check for a secondary barrier here.” He speaks as if defending a dissertation, pointing to the candy canes that could easily become weapons instead of the holiday cheer they should represent.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, soft and genuine, as you admire his evil architecture. Four eyes find you immediately, piercing in their gaze as if defensive, yet still holding something akin to wanting your approval. Your hand finds his marked cheek, fingers tracing the tattoos that mirror all over his body. He leans into your touch with imperial indifference, wary of Uraume’s presence in the kitchen but not indignant enough to deny your warmth.

“A domain worth of the King of Curses,” you praise, watching how his belly mouth curves into the wide grin that his master does not offer. It’s more than enough to know he’s satisfied.

“And why is yours unfinished?” Sukuna asks, crossing his arms in mock reproach despite the splattering of flour on his skin and Haori. “Surely, my Queen will make something of equal likeness.”

The oven behind you dings before you can reply, and Uraume retrieves your treat, the aroma rich and spiced. You slide the steaming plate between you, the burgundy cookies still piping hot and ready for him.

“I had other priorities,” you supply, blowing on your fingers before you offer a cookie to his belly mouth. It opens wide, tongue lolling to the side like a panting dog and already watering before you place the cookie on his taste buds. He chomps loudly, sharp teeth devouring the concoction of ginger, blood, and aged spices from Uraume’s private garden—a perfect blend of your world and his. His cursed energy warms, wrapping around your waist in approval as Sukuna throws cookies into his own mouth now.

“Is this my gift?” is all he asks, satisfied but ever impatient as he and his stomach finish the plate. You don’t resist the eye roll. “It’s a very acceptable gift. However, I wouldn’t have entertained Christmas if you only wanted to cook.”

“It’s not your gift Sukuna.” You wave him off, snatching the now empty plate before his belly mouth’s tongue can lick at the blood crumbs, another heaping plate taking its place that Uraume leaves. “And don’t try to guess. You won’t get very far.”

“Hm.” He leans back slightly, one of his hands reaching to dust flour from his forearm. You roll your eyes again, choosing instead to finish your gingerbread house while he sulks. “Then it must be something more…significant. Ancient scrolls, perhaps? Found deep within forgotten temples, imbued with curses?” His voice drips with mock curiosity as if daring you to reveal even the slightest clue.

You snort, pausing mid-pipe to give him a flat look. “First of all, ancient scrolls? Really, Sukuna?” His belly mouth grumbles at being ignored, lips covered in a red dusting of cookie smacking for more. “Second of all, what would I be doing roaming around a temple? This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, more intrigued than annoyed by your commentary. “So I am wrong?”

“Completely,” you answer, biting back another laugh as you return to your task of piping green icing along a gingerbread wall to resemble bushels of grass. “Do you think your gift revolves around curses and destruction?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” he counters smoothly, his tone smug and his gaze unwavering.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the nth time in only so many minutes, feeling the warmth of his cursed energy curling around your waist again, tugging at you like a child pulling his mother’s sleeve for attention. “Just eat your cookies and stop guessing, Sukuna. You’re nowhere close.”

His belly mouth snickers as Sukuna throws another cookie into it, but his narrowed gaze lingers on you as if memorizing every shift in your expression, every subtle movement of your hands, waiting for you to slip. You have a feeling that even though Christmas is only days away, his curiosity will make it seem like an eternity.

As he often says, Sukuna indulges for you quite often. Trivial mortal instruments meant to stave off your boredom. He tells himself it’s for his own peace, to keep you from pestering him in the throne room, even though he still searches for you and longs for your presence in his lap.

One of those mortal instruments? A television. He knows what they are but has never been bothered to pay attention—an invention he dismissed as frivolous and mind-numbing. The flickering screen is often a source of laughter and comfort on one of your sleepless nights, and though he swore to never sit beside you while it played, here he is. On Christmas Eve. Reclined casually on the expansive sofa in your chambers, a disdainful sneer aimed at the annoying mortal known as ‘Buddy the Elf’, judgment radiating from his very being.

“Ryu, you cannot possibly enjoy this,” he huffs, one hand picking at nonexistent lint on his linen pants, another draped over the back of the couch, and one more cradling your soft form against him.

“Elf is a Christmas tradition!” You insist, handing a heaping hand of buttery popcorn to his belly mouth who accepts with a please grumble. Unlike Sukuna, who prefers a more…carnivorous diet, his belly mouth will eat almost anything it is fed. You chuckle softly, laying your head on his naked chest as you both watch Buddy decorate the department store into a winter wonderland. "I love it."

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

“I thought you agreed not to grumble.”

“I never agreed.”

You hide your smile in the warmth of Sukuna’s side, breathing in the familiar aroma of burnt incense that clings to his skin, grounding and intoxicating. The movie plays on, you enjoying, while Sukuna analyzes each scene with the precision he’d use to raze a village. He won’t admit what he’s been reduced to—a powerful being indulging in idiotic entertainment to please the mortal lady of his estate. All for a gift that he cannot guess.

You trace idle patterns on his marked arm. Each touch makes his cursed energy flutter beneath your fingertips, electric kisses on your skin that he pretends not to notice. These are the moments you love most—when the fearsome King of Curses allows himself to simply…exist beside you, his pride softened by the peace you often bring.

“A weapon,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through Buddy and Jovie’s shower singing.

You blink, craning your neck to look up at him. “What?”

He gestures expectantly to the room around him. “You’ve found a weapon worthy of my domain.”

You should have known the moment he stopped complaining about the movie that his attention had drifted. The fact that this is what he is thinking about makes warmth bloom in your chest. “Are you guessing?”

“I do not guess,” he insists, glowering at the television to avoid looking at you, his curiosity-tinged cursed energy betraying him. “I deduce.”

A weapon would be fitting for someone like him—his strength, his dominance, his endless hunger for power. But it’s a far cry from what he will get. You throw more popcorn into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at just how wrong he truly is.

He’s silent only for a moment before he adds. “Why must I wait until tomorrow, when you can simply tell me now?” His logic is, as usual, rooted in authority and impatience. You chew another handful of popcorn deliberately, ignoring him as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

Not even five minutes pass before one of his large hands brushes against the nape of your neck. His fingers card through your hair, tugging the strands—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You know what he’s doing. His touch feels like a predator sneakily luring in prey. You know this game—this is Sukuna feigning boredom because he’s curious, using seduction to coax you when you’re being stubborn. It’s as effective as it is dangerous. But this time, you’re prepared.

“If you’re going to ignore the movie,” you trail off, your voice a mix of seductive challenge and amusement. You twist in his lap to straddle his waist, sliding your hands up his chest, tracing your fingers around his nipples in slow, deliberate circles. He does not react, at least not on his face. But you can feel the imperceptible jut of his hips, feel his cursed energy hum up your calves, and wrap around your body like a warm fog.

“I know of something else we can do.” You’re suggestive, voice dropping to the pits of your stomach as your lips brush along the sharp edge of his jaw. The shift in power is immediate, and exactly what you want. His hands tighten on your waist, head tilting slightly, giving you better access to lavish him with praise.

“Is that so?” His voice is pitched low, heady already. “Anything is better than this drivel.”

You roll your eyes as you fall back on the sofa, your body arching under his touch as he pulls you closer. Your hand slides lower, tracing the edge of his haori where it hangs loose against his skin.

“You’re impatient as usual,” you whisper, nipping lightly at his neck. “But you’ll wait this time. Won’t you?”

His eyes narrow as if in protest. But he doesn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, his hands roam your body, each touch firm and possessive. You grin against his skin, knowing you’ve managed to distract him…at least for now.

“A temple,” his voice rumbles through the darkness, shaking you from the deep edges of sleep. His massive form curves around you possessively, his warmth seeping into your skin. Both of you lie tangled in the aftermath of your earlier indulgences—the sofa, the wall, and, finally, the silk sheets of his bed. All bearing witness to his insatiable need for you.

“Mmm?” you mumble, still trying to pull yourself awake.

“Built in my honor,” he elaborates without repeating himself, shaking you again with a harshness that makes you yelp and throw a glare over your shoulder. He smirks to himself as if he’s finally solved the mystery. “That is my gift.”

You groan, burying your face in your pillow, but secretly relishing in the way he can’t seem to let this go. Rolling over halfway, you peek up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. The moonlight creates a shimmering backdrop, outlining his form with silver, blood-red eyes gleaming with determination. For someone who claims to have no interest in mortal traditions, he’s relentless about this one.

“You woke me up to guess….again,” you grumble, glaring at him through a half-open eye.

“I do not guess,” he starts, ready to repeat the same phrase from hours ago. “I simply—”

“Deduce, yes, I got that the first time.” You cut him off and surge up to give him a kiss, feeling his surprise for only seconds before he melts into your affection. “Go to sleep.”

“A secret text,” he murmurs against your lips, undeterred even as his arms pull you closer. “Written in blood.”

You grimace before answering with your lips on his again, your leg curling around a thick waist, ready to use the ammo from your arsenal just like a few hours ago. “Do I need to distract you again?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

The midnight air watches with bated breath as Sukuna rolls on top of you, his towering frame rousing the tingle between your legs.

“I know your method of distraction,” he whispers against the skin of your neck. His belly mouth kisses the skin of your inner thigh, licking its lips at the promise of what you might offer if you’re willing. “Considering you are no novice, one might think that you keep secrets from your King often.”

Your affronted laugh dissolves into a sigh as both stomach and Sukuna adorn your skin with wet kisses—one along the vein of your pelvis while the other works at the skin behind your ear. “O-one might think,” you manage, gasping as his mouth finds the pulse in your neck, “that my King is simply impatient for Christmas morning.”

“It is already past midnight,” he growls at the feel of your touch drifting lower, his cocks already throbbing and oozing precum. “Merry Christmas.”

“A proper Christmas morning!” you correct with a chortle, smacking his chest playfully. He hums noncommittally, the sound vibrating through you both, possessive and yet tender in a way that only you are privy to. “A few more hours. Let me wake up properly.”

With those final words, you promptly roll over, denying him any more sensual touch that could ignite the early morning. Sukuna, used to your defiance, simply grumbles at your withdrawal, choosing instead to press searing kisses along the naked skin of your back. They ignite the embers in your belly but are not persistent enough to tempt you further.

“A domain expansion,” he insists, inhaling the perfume at the dip of your spine, lips brushing the soft skin there.

“I can’t even do that.” Your voice is heavy, the dredges of sleep finally pulling at your consciousness.

“More blood cookies.”

You remain silent, using his solemn guesses as music to lull you back to sleep.

Sukuna can feel your presence even deep in sleep, his cursed energy wound tightly around you like a second skin, always attuned to your warmth, your breath, the way you shift beneath the covers. So when that connection shivers—when his energy touches only empty space—his crimson eyes snap open. Your side of the bed is still warm, a ghost of you lingering on his silk sheets.

He can still feel you in the estate, so he rises slowly, surveying his chamber. He takes in the transformation--the pine and silk ribbons that are around the mantle now present in his chambers, and the smell of cider and blood cookies that still wafts in the air around him. Resting along one wall is a beautiful vanity carved from marble with obsidian-lined mirrors and velvet surfaces adorned with your plethora of fragrances. The table near his window is littered with books, a speaker—another mortal instrument—rests quietly, no classical music that you enjoy playing.

His room—once untouchable, dark, and sacred—is now infused with you. It should feel like a violation, his personal sanctum defiled with the touch of a mortal. And yet.

His body is no longer cold in the halls because you thrive in warmth. His servants may bow in fear to him, but they smile at you. Shadows, once tools of terror, are now a source of protection and amusement, a manic gleam of fascination with the otherwordly preventing you from being fearful.

His emotions are still a mystery, but slowly unfurling like petals that have been sleeping for many winters. Anything besides strength and power, besides determination and tenacity are weak—should be weak. But you feel these emotions plenty, and to Ryomen Sukuna, you are far from weak.

The soft yellow lights from the pine tree spill against the floor, welcoming his bare feet as he enters the large living room that has come to life because of you and for you. He won’t admit it out loud, the pride that surges through his chest like a rushing wave when he looks at the tree. A pagan symbol meant to honor a god that is not himself, willingly brought into his domain by his own hand, a rare sight in his forest that only his eye could catch. He cleaved it. He carried it upon his shoulders. He cupped the approval in your eyes like water in a shallow pool in a drying desert, sacred and coveted.

His efforts have become yours, decorated in tinsel and ornaments, in obnoxiously bright lights and snow that will never melt. And you sit next to it, your silhouette glowing against the roaring fireplace, your gaze looking up at what he’s allowed you to have. You noticed his presence long ago, but you remain transfixed with the tree, a soft smile gracing your features as he draws closer.

“It is far too early,” he rumbles, his voice gentle but heavy in the silent Christmas air. “Come back to bed.”

You huff in reply, not bothering to offer words even as he sinks down next to you. His arms crossed over his chest, his legs folding in to sit with grace on the fur-covered floor. This close, he can smell another fragrance that you collect, a smoky Oud that coats your skin like a second skin.

It’s one of his favorites, yet another thing he will not admit, but you know. You know from the way he buries his face in your neck at night, his chambers shrouded in darkness beside the slanting of moonlight on his sheets, his cursed energy caressing your skin in appreciation.

“It’s a great tree, you know,” you sigh, wistfully. You hope to keep the tree up and lit long after Christmas passes. It’s a wonderful sight, a depiction of a past life before you became aware of the unknown, of curses and spirits, sorcery and realms besides Heaven and Hell. To see it now, in the domain of a powerful king, shining brightly as if the one who cut it down did not have four arms and eyes. “It’s strong…resilient.”

“Of course it is. Who do you take me for?” he snaps, tone not holding any heat as his sharp gaze looks at you from head to toe. He leans imperceptibly into you when you laugh, a sound that shakes from your robe-covered chest and into the warm air, the shadows catching it as if they are fireflies in the night.

You finally pull your gaze from the tree, looking to Sukuna and he refuses to let you hear the hitch in his breath. He refuses to tighten his jaw or let you hear the click of bone as he fights the urge to openly bask in your gaze. “I have something for you.”

You grab a box beneath the tree, the only object that decorates the skirt. You’re climbing into his large lap before he can protest, willingly invading his space without fear of the consequences. For others, a swift death. For you, a subconscious shift in his form, one of his arms falling behind you and hitching along your hip to steady you on his thigh.

“I hope you like it,” you muse, shrugging with indifference to shield your anticipation. “I know "human sentiments" are not your specialty.”

The hands not holding your back trace along the red ribbon, silky soft and tied neatly by you. But before you can push the box more insistently into his hold, his hands slide under yours, firmly stilling your movements.

One of his hands reaches behind his back, his form shifting closer before he presents you with his own box. It’s smaller than yours, crafted in dark, polished wood, the flames from the fireplace glimmering along the surface.

“How can I let you meddle and not have anything to counter it with?” It’s all Sukuna offers, tone low and edged with something warmer than usual. He places the box in your hands, his gaze heavy on your face as though waiting for a reaction. Truly, the thought of him getting you something had not crossed your mind. Sukuna seemed more than willing to put up with your holiday antics if only to get something in return. So the weight of the box in your hands, cool against your palm, feels substantial.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid, the dark wood creaking softly. Nestled inside a bed of rich blue velvet, is something that steals the breath from your lungs. It gleams against the firelight as you pick it up, its crystal surface refracting shards of gold and crimson that dance across your body. The shape is elegant yet otherworldly, the surface etched with markings that you’ve come to see throughout his estate. A stopper made of black Onyx crowns it, carved into a teardrop that you pinch and pull to open.

The scent curls into the air, smoothing beneath your nostrils in a delicate yet commanding embrace. It’s sharp at first, with notes of what you recognize as juniper and lemon, fresh and crisp like the frost that curls on the windows in your chamber. You’re an expert in fragrance, so it doesn’t take you long to detect the undercurrent of bergamot and pepper, adding an edge that’s reminiscent of Sukuna’s power—lurking beneath the surface.

It seems as if the notes are never-ending. Pine needles and incense weave into a rich, earthy warmth, like the forest you both walked through to cut down the decorated pine that rests behind you. Amber and balsam provide a sweetness that lingers with its base notes and a touch of vanilla. Finally, the richness of cinnamon adds a spicy conclusion, as if kissing your skin before it fades into the morning air.

“You didn’t,” you begin, mouth suddenly dry, your eyes quite the opposite. “You made this…?”

“Do you think anyone else could, Ryu?” he counters, his tone holding a rare softness that you wish you were more levelheaded to preserve forever. A hand not resting on your back drifts along your shoulder blades, caressing in a mixture of observance and reverence. “It is yours.”

Like everything else in this domain.

That is what he wants to add. Is what curls at the tip of his tongue. But he uses your fluttering eyelashes to distract that urge that throbs in his chest. Uses the sight of you resting the perfume carefully back in its velvet encasing before closing the wooden box as if it might break.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally whisper, uncaring of how shaky you sound. The gift is uniquely Sukuna, deeply reflecting his essence but still having you in mind. “Thank you.”

He offers that characteristic hum, rumbling through your body and clenching around your heart with a force he’s not yet ready to acknowledge. His belly mouth curves into a smug grin, but his eyes are still on you as if searching for something.

“Another example of my indulgence that you mistake for generosity.”

The way his cursed energy hums around you, warm and protective, tells you otherwise. And it only serves to make you laugh, finally wiping the tears from your cheeks and gently setting the wooden box on the fur rug beneath you both.

“Uh huh,” you tease, snickering at his frown you can see right through. You finally pick up your box, the surface warmed by the fire, now resting in his hands. The teasing air around you both falls to the wayside, hushed anticipation taking its place.

He’s spent days pestering you about what he would get, and now, with you on his lap and his massive hands cradling the box with unexpected gentleness, his curiosity morphs into something else. A prize he’s excited to have and now afraid to open. Not in fear—Sukuna has no room for fear—but in anticipation.

It takes everything in you not to snatch the box and open it yourself, but eventually, he does, and the purse of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes fall before you like a book as old as time finally opening.

The silk is as dark as the shadows that roam these halls, shimmering like oil in water as it slides along Sukuna’s thick fingers. To anyone else, the material would simply be silk. But to Sukuna, he can feel the cursed energy that pulses along it, no doubt stitched together with a cursed thread strong enough to embrace him and yet still soft to the touch.

You had no way to conjure or control cursed energy to weave into the fabric, so you had to turn to Uraume for help. Their frosty hands had guided yours, harnessing the cursed energy necessary for you as you wove the threads, ensuring the haori could hold the weight of Sukuna’s power while remaining as delicate as the intentions behind it.

The silk mirrors the intricate markings on his skin, its edges dyed in gradients of shadow and blood.

“It’s a Haori,” you finally speak, soft and given space so he can observe his gift without hurry. “It’s all you really wear, so I thought crafting something of my own would be….nice.”

Words gather on his tongue, and then scatter like leaves in a storm, too feeble to express the weight of what he feels. He knows that a simple hum of approval won’t be enough—not this time. Not for you. But as he readies himself to speak, opening his mouth just so, his breath catches when he looks inside one of the sleeves.

The inner lining is adorned with ancient symbols sewn in patterns only he would recognize, the same ones you’ve felt him trace in the air around you when he thinks you’re sleeping, offering protection for when he cannot be near you. They shimmer faintly, their glow deepening in the shadowed folds of silk and fading when touched by light—a testament to the darkness he commands and the solace he finds within it.

“Ryu—”

“At least put it on,” you interrupt, voice slightly shaky and betraying your exposed nerves. You hold the garment delicately, taking it from him and helping each arm through the sleeves. The silk moves like smoke around his massive form, designed to accommodate while maintaining the elegant lines that befit a being of his stature. Your eyes are on his skin, focused on the hem of his lapels as you trace over it and rest your hand on his chest.

“There,” you whisper, smiling but not looking up at him. His heart is steady beneath your palm, not fluttering like a bird in a cage, and you’re not sure whether to be upset that your gift doesn’t make his heart race. “It looks good on you.”

It fits him perfectly and thrums with a warmth that echoes the temperature blooming in his chest. That three-letter phrase—that elusive word that’s made his lip curl in disgust since the beginning of time, now pounds in his ears from the garment that sits on his skin.

It’s not just a garment—it’s an acknowledgment of who he is in his truest form, a declaration that you see his beauty in both his power and his evolution. The way it drapes over his marked skin, how it seems to pulse with its own life in response to his cursed energy—these details speak to your understanding of him, how you’ve learned to…love both the demon and the subtle changes your presence has wrought in him.

“You see me,” he finally speaks, uncharacteristically hushed. You see him—demon and protector, destroyer and creator, ancient force and the being who has learned to nestle mortal joy in hands only meant for destruction.

They’ve always been directed at you. Not from him. He’s never said them before. He’s never really known how, and part of him has always been envious of how the words can fall so effortlessly from your lips.

He’s never said them before. And yet now, at this moment, it feels like if he doesn’t act, the opportunity will be lost forever, forced down into the pit of his belly for who knows how long.

You hold your breath when you feel one of his hands cradle your cheek, massive enough so that his fingers card through your dark hair.

“And I see you, Ryu.”

The words feel like a promise. Like they will probably be rare but will only hold more and more weight as time goes by. And that’s okay for you. To be in his presence. To open him up and show him that he is capable of something gentle enough to hold you. That’s your gift that you will never need to wait until the 25th of December for.

His belly mouth is unusually silent, but his cursed energy tightens around you like a caress. Warm and vibrating, a protective weight that will remain around you for as long as you breathe. It speaks volumes that his pride won’t quite let him voice.

You lift a hand to rest on his cheek, tracing along the smooth skin that gives way to the rough texture that wraps around his right side. His two eyes on this side are more narrowed, encapsulated in the hard surface around it but still oozing dominance that could make others cower and definitely not come closer like you do. You cup his jaw before finally meeting his gaze—soft meeting a harshness that will never affect you, love meeting the beginnings of the same that linger beneath crimson pools.

“I see you too, Ryomen.”

The sound of his name makes his chest tighten, the organ behind his sternum pounding irregularly for only a second before falling back in line. His given name is forbidden for any who wish to speak it in likeness—he will only tolerate the name ‘Ryomen’ if it is wrapped in fear, or if it falls from your lips.

The silence lingers for what feels like forever, his hands holding you on his lap while he lets you map his face. Your heart flutters, happiness pulsing through your veins with every beat, cataloging every aspect of this moment in your mind forever.

“There is one mortal tradition,” he finally muses, his voice carrying that particular note of mischief that always makes your breath catch, “that I find…acceptable.”

It’s the kind of tone that usually follows lips along your skin and hands between your thighs, reminiscent of a man who can only bask in vulnerability for moments before shifting to something heady and tinged with lust.

Before you can question his motives, one of his hands lifts to hover above you both. His cursed energy manifests between his fingers, dark and potent, morphing itself into something that makes you snort in delighted surprise. Dark tendrils grow slowly from the mass of energy between his fingers, twisted and mangled to form branches, its leaves pitch black with berries that gleam like drops of blood.

A twisted version of mistletoe, the only representation that would be acceptable to someone like Sukuna.

“Of course, you’d make it look menacing,” you tease, giggling softly as his other arms draw you closer to his chest. His belly mouth snickers from below you, ready to join his host in whatever is planned. One of your fingers traces the metal of his gauges, your eyes narrowing in playful indifference.

“Then I advise you to have one ready for next year.”

Your heart stops, lungs seizing in your chest as the words tunnel into one ear and out the other. Next year. The idea hangs in the air, fragile and precious—proof that even Ryomen Sukuna, with all his arrogance and dominance, is willing to entertain a future with you.

The mistletoe pulses above you, casting reddish shadows across your faces, and you don’t need to think any longer as you lean in to slide your lips along his. His hands widen the expanse of your back, your robe slipping off your shoulders to hang in the crevice of your elbows, the heat from the pulsing mistletoe spreading over your chest. The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his lips, your body warming even further despite the heat from the fireplace.

He offers that hum—that characteristic hum that means so much.

Acquiescence.

Agreement.

I see you.

The mistletoe falls to the floor, crunching beneath your weight as Sukuna lays you on the fur, hands tracing your waist, sliding along your spine, hiking your legs around him. He doesn’t speak, content to admire you beneath him—a mortal without cursed energy who loves perfume, the paranormal, and classical music. A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

A mortal who has crawled beneath his skin and nestled there, unwilling to leave. And he’s too ashamed to admit that he gave up trying to pry you from inside of him a long time ago.

You throw your arms around his neck, impatient and tired of his staring, carding your fingers through deceptively soft pink hair to pull him down so that you can once again honor this particular tradition—one that, like everything else between you, has been transformed into something uniquely yours.

Merry Christmas, @grimmweepers !!!!

[atsro-slut]

Heyy astro! So I just fell ill out of nowhere, so I gotta cancel so many plans 😔 Being sick sucksss, especially when you finally have a break from school 😮‍💨 Could I please ask a nice comforting fic about Remus taking care of reader when she's sick? Possibly with her feeling nauseous (without actually getting sick) and being triggered bc of her Emetophobia? Thanks lovely! 🫶

Comfort in the Quiet, Calm in the Storm

Hi hun!! Im sorry you're sick :( I hope you feel better and enjoy the fic!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

Remus helps Y/N feel better when she falls sick!

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

It was a cold evening at Hogwarts when Y/N first felt it—an odd, unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She tried to ignore it at first, busying herself with homework in the Gryffindor common room. The flickering firelight and the comforting presence of the castle were usually enough to keep her grounded, but today was different. The nausea seemed to worsen with every passing minute, and soon she found herself clutching her abdomen, trying to breathe through the sudden discomfort.

“Y/N?”

Remus Lupin’s voice brought her back to the present. She glanced up, meeting his warm brown eyes across the room. He had been studying at the table nearby, but his gaze was now fixed on her, concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head in an attempt to brush off the queasiness. “Just a bit of a stomachache.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t look fine. Come here, love,” he coaxed gently, his tone soothing.

Y/N didn’t resist. She knew he wouldn’t let it go, and honestly, she was grateful. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t feel fine at all. In fact, she felt like her whole body was on the edge of something she couldn’t control.

She slowly stood up and walked over to where Remus was sitting. He shifted aside to make room for her, and as she sank into the armchair beside him, he instinctively reached for her hand.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said softly, his thumb gently tracing the back of her hand.

“I don’t know,” Y/N whispered. “I just feel… off. A bit dizzy. My stomach’s turning, but it’s not—” She stopped herself, aware of what she was about to say. The word hung heavy on her tongue, a word she tried so hard to avoid. She swallowed, willing herself to stay calm.

Remus’s eyes softened with understanding. “You don’t need to say it if you don’t want to,” he said gently. “But I’m here for you. Whatever it is.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her just from hearing him say that. It was rare for her to open up about her struggles with emetophobia, especially with the one person she cared about most. Remus had always been understanding, but today, her fear felt overwhelming. Her stomach churned at the thought of getting sick—something she hadn’t been able to control since childhood—and her mind began to spiral.

“I’ll get you something,” Remus continued, sensing her distress. “Something to settle your stomach. You’ll feel better soon.”

Y/N gave a shaky smile, grateful for his calm presence. He always seemed to know how to make her feel better, how to soothe her even when the world felt out of control.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The evening stretched on, and Y/N couldn’t shake the sensation of nausea that clung to her. She had tried to drink some water, but it hadn’t helped. She had curled up under a blanket beside Remus on the couch, but the nausea still gnawed at her insides, and the dizziness refused to leave.

"Do you want me to get Madame Pomfrey?" Remus asked after a long silence, his voice careful.

Y/N shook her head quickly, but the movement only made her feel worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself, but she couldn’t escape the overwhelming sense of discomfort.

"I’m fine, really," she replied, her voice strained. "I just need a minute."

Remus didn’t push further. Instead, he carefully shifted so that he was sitting behind her, supporting her back with a cushion. His hands were warm and steady as he placed one on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on her skin.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice like a gentle lullaby. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

The kindness in his tone made Y/N’s heart ache. She had always been so terrified of being judged, of appearing weak or fragile, especially around him. But Remus never made her feel that way. He never once looked at her with pity, and that was something she cherished more than anything.

She leaned back against him, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a rhythm she found grounding, and it helped her focus on something other than the sickening feeling in her stomach. She closed her eyes, listening to the quiet, to the sound of his breath, and allowed herself a small moment of peace.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Remus asked after a while, his voice soft, barely a whisper.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She had been carrying this fear around for so long, and though she had told Remus bits and pieces before, she had never truly opened up about how severe her emetophobia could be.

"I don't know if I can," she admitted, her voice trembling.

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he simply continued to hold her, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos of her mind.

When he finally spoke again, it was with a quiet understanding. “You don’t have to tell me everything, love. But if you want to talk, I’m here.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she had never been able to express. She had always been afraid of burdening others with her fear, especially Remus, but the kindness in his voice and the gentleness of his touch made it feel just a little less daunting.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I hate this feeling. The nausea, the thought of being sick. I just… I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Her chest tightened, her breathing becoming shallow. Remus’s arms tightened around her as if he could somehow absorb the tension in her body. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Y/N continued, her voice barely audible. “I just want it to stop. I’m afraid of being out of control. Of not being able to stop it when it happens.”

Remus’s thumb brushed against her temple, as though brushing away her worries. “I know, Y/N. I know you don’t want to feel like this. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He kissed the top of her head, his touch tender and reassuring. “We’ll get through this together. One step at a time.”

Y/N clung to his words, willing herself to believe them, even as her fear threatened to swallow her whole.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The night stretched on, the fire crackling softly in the background, and the hours passed in quiet conversation. Remus didn’t try to rush her through the nausea; instead, he focused on calming her mind, drawing her attention away from the spiral of thoughts that threatened to take over.

As time went on, Y/N began to feel a little less overwhelmed. The nausea was still there, lingering in the background, but it wasn’t as suffocating. She had Remus with her, and that made all the difference.

“Do you want some tea?” Remus asked, his voice soft. “I think it might help settle your stomach.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the suggestion. “Yes, please,” she murmured.

Remus rose from the couch and moved toward the small kitchenette in the corner of the common room. He returned shortly with a steaming mug of chamomile tea, the aroma of the herbs filling the air.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the cup. “It’s not much, but it should help.”

Y/N took the mug from him, the warmth of the tea comforting against her chilled fingers. She took a slow sip, letting the soothing liquid settle in her stomach. For the first time all evening, she felt a small glimmer of relief.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Remus smiled, his eyes soft. “Anytime, love. You don’t ever have to go through this alone.”

She smiled back, leaning into his side once again. For the first time in hours, the knot in her stomach began to loosen. The fear wasn’t completely gone, but it didn’t feel as overpowering. And with Remus there beside her, it felt a little easier to breathe.

They sat in silence for a while, just being together. The world outside seemed distant, irrelevant in the face of their quiet comfort.

Y/N’s head rested on Remus’s shoulder as they watched the flames dance in the fireplace. She didn’t feel entirely better yet, but with him there, it felt like the storm inside her had calmed—just a little.

And in that small moment, she realized that maybe that was enough for now. She had him. And that was all she needed to make it through the storm.

[syscest]

system[?] here. i guess? idk, this is just a confession and maybe asking for advice if there is any for something like this. i struggle a lot with singletmoding when depression and dysphoria gets bad, and it has been bad a lot lately. like months. and its hard because im basically just fragments anyways, nothing super distinct. and i dont have a headspace, or voices. so i dont know what to do to make myself feel more plural. sometimes a really distinct headmate comes to front and it feels like something but most of the time it feels like nothing and i miss plurality. but its not easy. idk if theres any advice because so much of it focuses on having a headspace or looking inward or creating a headspace etc etc but when we had tried that before it made the host at the time go dormant due to stress and we still didnt get like a headspace out of it. idk. you dont have to post this, im sorry.

shhhhh anon - so, for the record our system:

doesn't have a headspace or any sense of spatialness related to fronts/switching

doesn't have internal dialogue. we can't write notes either, our brain rejects it

doesn't have a memory split / gaps between headmates - switches are just a slight shift we help happen

tends to hold fronts for days at a time, but finds that fronts often "fade out" into mush after a while, the vividness goes away and it gets kinda generic feeling

and my main sentiment is. don't force it. these quieter types of systemhood are about connecting with yourself/ves, they're about curiosity. they're about exploration and finding new ways to express yourself/ves. and they're all about really small things instead of really big things.

We usually wouldn't offer such specific advice to a specific ask, because we hate prescribing the way systems should be - but this is our personal thought process for when we've masked ourself into a hole and forgotten what we're even capable of experiencing.

So, think of a chime, or a pond - if it's thrashed, it's an unclear mess well after you stop, but if you touch it while it's still, that input resonates, and what you put in slowly comes back to your ears and eyes. Systems often have this "reflective" quality, I think - which means reconnecting with your system often means looking for things you put in to it.

You miss the feeling of your system. That's a good start - let yourself have that. It kinda sucks but, mull over and genuinely explore that feeling. Then keep your ears open from then and into the week, and you just might feel that feeling that your system misses itself/you back. Have a fondness? Same thing. Something you're wearing would look better if certain fragments were more present? *Think* that - picture it. Look after yourself through looking after your system - see if it looks after you back. Feel for that little "delay" between when you feel a feeling, and it comes back to being felt about you.

And hey, even if that doesn't mean "switching and fronts" like you want it to, maybe it'll feel good anyway.

[sweeterelease]

you made a post about conan gray and the marauders please yap on this (sincerely a fellow marauders & conan gray fan)

DONT SAY THISSS I WILL NOT STOP

pls, my best friend introduced me to jegulus over the summer and i instantly become obsessed, so as one does, i started curating a playlist for them lmfaooo the black family and all the star concepts going on obviously led me to 'astronomy' first, i think it was the first song i listened to and immediately connected it to the marauders?

and then i started listening to more of conan's songs bc i thought oouu i remember i really liked his first album! and now he has 3 and i hadn't really tuned in for the other two, big mistake. HUGE mistake.

this man has consumed me, to my CORE. i wake up and listen to him, i eat and listen to him, i do work and listen to him, go to school, homework, shower, i even go to sleep to his music on. atp i think i need an intervention, my roomie asked if im going to see him soon bc i just can't stop listening to this mf (sadly, i'm not)

it also does not help the fact that every single one of his songs is about me!!! i hate him!!!! (i don't) but please, conan if you're reading this, put the pen down, i can't take anymore.

no but srsly i do love his music a lot, it's a fairly new interest but his sound and voice are something i can really resonate with, and the flexibility of genres in his discography! keep doing whatever your'e doing mr. gray

as i mentioned, i genuinely enjoy all of his songs but for the purpose of this ask i will give my thoughts on my faves for the marauders!

astronomy: JEGULUSSSSS oh my sweet tragedy, they were never going to make it. also this fandom literally runs on astronomy references so anything mentioning the sun, moon, stars, immediately them.

the exit: listen i know the obvious answer is jegulus (lily) or even wolfstar and yes indeed it works BUT what about the family heartbreak, i give you angsty black brothers with james, can't hate you for getting everything we wanted, just thought i would be part of it it's bad you love her, it's over, you already found someone to miss it's SO BAD

memories: this is honestly just me projecting onto regulus, i need to give him hug.

summer child: james potter we freaking love you..

heather: regulus pls stand the fuck up.

never ending song: this just gives me so much fun summer wolfstar, or chaotic rosekiller, love them.

boys and girls: sirius you bi icon

alley rose: WOLFSTARRRRRRRR it works as sirius talking to remus AND remus talking to sirius, they found eternity in each other.

family line: tw walburga black. i once read a headcanon of musician sirius releasing this song never knowing the but my sister's when i cry lyric is supposed to be brother's (what is wrong with you sad bitches)

i think overall i could give a marauders narrative to literally every single conan song, but in my mind superache is regulus and found heaven is sirius.

honorable mention: grant champman as the cut that always bleeds!!! so fun!!!!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[uglyf4wn]

realizing that communication actually doesnt matter as much as ppl say it does, bc most ppl glorify it and see it as a magical solution when in fact communicating your feelings/wants/needs only work if other ppl are receptible to it. which... most ppl arent, both bc many dont want to bc it requires too much effort of them and it's easier to shift blame on others not "communicating", but also bc many many ppl just have brains that arent wired to understand others, or other viewpoints and perspectives. thus, no level of communication will make someone who isnt capable of receiving it hear you. most efforts to "communicate" are completely wasted. and it's frustrating, but what can u do?

[skunkes]

not an ask, but I saw ur post and relate a lot to it.

anticipatory grief sucks. people will tell you not to think about it, not to let it steal from today, but some days are just so hard. sometimes it feels unavoidable, like it’s some goliath mountain in the distance or even the sky and you can’t not look at it. it’s like you have to keep trying to distract yourself not to think about it, and it’s exhausting, and you’re so fucking scared of the inevitable.

like how does anyone even function? the idea of the world continuing to spin when there’s this terrible, horrible thing that will happen some day is unfathomable but it does, and it’s horrible. Some day will mark the before and the after. nobody can ever be ready for it.

I hope the love you have keeps you strong. wishing you the best.

this is literally it. i know thinking about it Now wont make the actual day it happens any easier. but it's impossible to not think about it, especially since there's no tangible way to preserve memories or feelings or the like forever. i cry easily and get emotional over most anything and everything, which is another layer of difficulty wrt it because I spiral. I want to squeeze out of my body. im not meant for any of it