#not even mildly surprised at this point
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I frequently see people saying that the list of traits Jiang Cheng gave to the matchmaker are "impossible standards", ridiculous, unreasonable, outlandish, absurd, nobody could ever possibly meet them, etc.
Anyway the translation that's up on the wiki is:
His requirements in his partner are: naturally beautiful, graceful and obedient, hard-working and thrifty, coming from a respected family, cultivation level not too high, personality not too strong, not too talkative, voice not too loud and must treat Jin Ling nicely.
First off, the list comes from a random trivia answer MXTX gave in an interview, not the novel canon. So whether you even consider it canon at all is up for grabs to begin with. Though I think there was a scene in CQL with a similar list so it would be canon there, minus the Jin Ling point (due to the point in the story the scene was set)? (So I believe the matchmaker blacklisting point still wouldn't be CQL canon though, just the list?)
But if you do take it all as a Super Serious Canon Thing, well... to be honest I just don't think that list is at all unusual, given the setting? I believe many of the points in the list are just traits considered generally good for ladies of the time period (intentionally vague as that time period may be). (I am absolutely not an expert though so please correct me if I'm wrong about that.)
To me it seems that it's not that they're unusually high or unattainable standards, they're just so generic that they're sort of unhelpful. That he has like no idea what he wants at all outside what he's supposed to want.
The only points that actually seem to have any specificity are things like cultivation level not too high. Which some people could interpret negatively, and fair enough. But personally to me that seemed more like a flashing neon sign of 'please someone not like my mother', given her strength in cultivation was one of her defining traits (and something that he may have felt led to her disappointment in him). Even though Jiang Cheng may carry forward some of her traits himself (for better and for worse; this is not a YZY hate zone but there's... a lot there), he does seem to have at least given some thought to choosing a partner to counter some of the pain points of his own childhood and aim for something different (and we see him trying to do that himself in specific ways as well, like his staunch support of Jin Ling when he was crying after the Second Siege, even if he doesn't always fully succeed).
And, of course, 'must treat Jin Ling nicely'. Which seems obvious and not like a big deal at first, but I think actually could reasonably be a big sticking point in a potential marriage. My understanding is that he was wildly more involved in Jin Ling's life than a maternal uncle would normally be. Including this as a specific requirement seems to send a particular type of statement, as if it was important to him that any potential match would not take offense to him treating an orphaned child that wasn't his with a lot of attention and gifts and favor... hmmm, how could he have possibly decided that could be a problem in a marriage...?
(Obviously, the scenario would be very different than his parents' - none of the salacious rumors and the humiliation that came with them that really drove a deeper wedge between YZY and JFM - but he was obviously going to be doing a lot more for Jin Ling than an average uncle so it makes sense to have that be a specific point upfront.)
I'm ultimately in the 'it was MXTX making a joke and not meant to be taken nearly this seriously' with a side of 'the clan leaders of this generation aren't in a hurry to get married because MXTX just didn't feel like writing their wives in and also it was funny' camp so I think there's a limit to how much insight can be gleaned from this, you know? It is fun to play with it in-universe and explore the implications on the society and political system going forward in the decades post-canon, but I do try to keep myself from taking it too seriously when it's clearly not a well-thought-out plot point or anything, just a fun offhand jokey trivia bit.
But I like the vibes of it all well enough to accept it as 'semi-canon' or 'canon enough' for myself anyway because I think the 'must treat Jin Ling nicely' point is cute and the rest is just standard for the setting and the blacklisted by matchmakers part is funny, and I'm much more willing to subsume random bits from interviews into my brain's blorbo blob if it's something funny.
#my possibly hot? but probably lukewarm at best? maybe even room temperature? take#just some random thoughts that percolated in my sleep deprived brain on the topic#because I've seen a bunch of posts recently - some joking and others more serious - about the list#jiang cheng things#thinking too much about jiang cheng again#I would say 'I can't believe I just wrote all that over MXTX's silly interview answers'#but I absolutely can believe my self did that#not even mildly surprised at this point
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you'd think losing people would stop hurting as much after you've gone through it a bunch of times but I guess if humans can learn to love over and over with the same or even greater intensities it makes sense that the following pain of losing said people you give that love to is proportional each time too
#are you ever surprised at how much things affect you#because i genuinely cant wrap my head around why this hit me so hard. it doesnt make logical sense. ive been through so much worse#i should not gaf at this point. or at least only feel mildly sad for a brief while. not full on lose my fucking mind and literally not be#able to function for days on end#like i know life isnt over the world is still spinning i have a lot of love in my life#but it still hurts almost as badly as the first time i had my heart broken#i know that's a net good thing. i know that means im still human and havent completely numbed myself to the world#and my heart is bigger than it used to be#and its a good thing that i could love with enough intensity to feel the same amount of pain even in the aftermath#heck there are people i love so much more. so this is GOOD#but it doesnt make it any less painful in the present ijbol#anyway.#liveblogging.pdf
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Shadows of Fear: Return of Favours (1.6, Thames, 1971)
"And then they got this funny idea. About you. And this room. Almost as if they could read my mind. Anticipating my intentions. Did you hear?"
"What intentions?"
"I thought they told you on the phone?"
"Oh, yes. They thought you'd killed me. But you wouldn't have the guts. It's all dreams. Pathetic lies. I've been living with them for years."
#shadows of fear#return of favours#single play#horror tv#classic tv#thames#1971#jeremy paul#kim mills#george cole#caroline blakiston#jennie linden#robin ellis#after a short burst of strong episodes‚ this series hits a wobble; it's not that this is terrible or anything‚ it's just a little#muddled and‚ like the first ep‚ feels overly drawn out at 50 mins (and would probably have worked better in a 25 minute slot)#the story (Cole surprises young lovers using his flat for a tryst without his knowledge‚ his strange behaviour from that point leading them#to suspect he has killed his wife) is pure old hokum‚ but not without promise for this kind of mildly 'horror' themed anthology#(tho again like the first eps this would be better described as suspense tv rather than horror). it's stretched too thin‚ though‚ and#drags itself to an ending that only raises more questions than it answers: SPOILERS INCOMING for this obscure and 50+ yr old ep of old tv#Cole hasn't killed his wife but plans to. he does once the couple leaves then engineers the return of Ellis so that he can frame him. but#it won't stand up for a second? as Ellis repeatedly yells at the end of the episode‚ Jennie L is just downstairs and besides the#circumstantial evidence that Cole sets up‚ there's nothing about the supposed murder by Ellis that makes sense. he doesn't even know the#wife‚ he has no motive. also Cole has a bandaged hand all through the ep which he menacingly unwraps at the end to reveal.. nothing#he was wearing it to avoid fingerprints ig? but... why? why not just wear gloves? idk it all feels a little silly and a little#underwhelming in its conclusion. fun cast tho.
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from a gold shachihoko to a copper shachihoko huh 🤔
#vee queued to fill the void#i’m trying to put together a look at kuukou’s various symbols on his outerwear for a post and was mildly surprised lol#like kuukou’s colours are muted and that’s obvious from the moment you see his entire fit yeah#but it completely flew over my head that kuukou’s shachihoko changed since it’s one of the few aspects of kuukou’s attire that carried over#lol we back to kuukou analysing in the tags this is great lmao so i was thinking#i haven’t gotten around to posting it but one of kuukou’s lines for new years in arb is him stressing to stay healthy#like he even says not to overdo it!!!!!!#i always wondered what aspect of smoking & drinking kuukou doesn’t like and it seems to be pointing to the body/mind ruining aspect#(tho to be that aware of it is still hmmmmm lol 🤔)#real gold should never have to be polished and usually withstands the elements quite fine but copper!!!!#turns green under prolonged exposure to water air etc and that’s what happened to kuukou’s speakers like it’s an oxidised copper dragon lol#so we have a kuukou who has gone from bright colours and golds to a kuukou in darks and copper a less resilient metal#best case scenario it’s just symbolic of kuukou’s experiences!!!! like his speaker is of a dragon that has been exposed and weathered a lot#but is still going strong kicking ass taking names lol#worst case scenario i think is that it’s a 🚩 🚩🚩that kuukou’s being weathered down by something and not in a good way#nodders yup yup yup we back to worrying about kuukou starting off his year STRONG lmao
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tiny list of meme-y/comic-y ideas for if i ever git gud at arting:
1.
that 'are you tired of being nice? don't you just want to go apeshitt' meme with astarion and my tav, oliver (and a small follow up of his response)
2.
(based on this bit from the simpsons): *act three, in the elfsong suite. first shot is oliver in front of the fireplace, angled in such a way as to appear to be seated on a nearby sofa. he is staring intently into the fire. karlach watches him from a little ways away.* karlach, calling over to astarion: oy, fangs. think you might want to check in on oliver. he's, uh... lookin' kinda tense right now... astarion, dismissively: come, now. if he were anything but perfectly fine, i'd know *cut to reveal that oliver is actually so rigid that he's currently sitting on the air a good foot or two in front of the sofa, nothing to support him but his own leg muscles* astarion: ...ah.
#for the first idea:#maybe i've just missed it#but i'm surprised i've yet to see that meme#feels hilariously on point for astarion and a goody two shoes tav#or astarion and wyll lmao#as for the second one....#well. i'm sure my boy is stressed from the weight of.... everything. and it's finally getting to him#plus. in connection with the bit it's drawn from. parental issues coming to claw at him! yaaay!#karlach would probably go check in on him anyway but for the bit she gets to be lisa#and i feel like even if worried...#they'd both be mildly impressed that he'd sat like that with nothing to support him lol#do they take bets and see how long he can hold that position or go and check in on him?#i feel like that particular simpsons bit could also work hilariously with astarion as marge and tav/durge/whomever as homer#he keeps insisting he's fine about the prospect of facing down cazador!#but no. he most decidedly is not#oc: could it be this misery will suffice? (oliver)#scott can’t drawr#to the void with love#bg3
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Tryst ⥃ Aemond Targaryen
Summary: Aemond walks in on his newly wedded wife changing, surely she is not as temperate as her father when she catches him eyeing her, is she?
Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, kind of enemies to lovers, VELARYON READER!!, reader has silver hair, virging!reader, fingering, reader is angry lol, breeding, lots of scratching and biting, porn no plot! English isn’t my first language<3
Word count: 2.7k+
A/n: I missed my pwp era so here is a short rough smut with our prince Aemond! Missed being unhinged, so here is a fiery reader who is just as crazy as Aemond🤭 Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕
Marrying Daemon’s oldest daughter was not something Aemond could ever imagine, especially since it was his uncle’s idea to offer your hand in marriage; perhaps you were too much of a rebel to be kept on Dragonstone.
He remembers how much you glared at him the day he and his family came to that old wet castle to visit you and your family, and to settle for an agreement so the qualms between the families would vanish — or at least try to make amends somehow.
What he did not expect was for you to be utterly disgusted and angry at him, to the point when he had to show others you were officially courting, you did not even spare him a glance.
He despises you just as much if not more.
But he does not know why he is walking towards your chambers after the supper which you left in a really angry manner, leaving everyone stunned but him.
It is late as he walks through the dimly lit hallways of the Red Keep, an hour or two before the dead of the night, and his intentions are not clear enough to see why he is taking routes to where your chambers are. If only he knew why, he would try to avoid it at all costs.
He walks with his hands held behind him, chin up with his good eye scanning every tapestry on the wall, every knight who moves past him, in hopes of finding an answer for his intentions.
Your chambers are not much far from his, it would be too scandalous for husband and wife to be sleeping in different rooms, especially since your marriage happens to be the talk of every gathering and whispers of the court — not to anyone’s surprise, Daemon’s oldest daughter and Aemond Targaryen are a match of flames, burning each other until there is nothing but ashes — but you do not care if you are the subject of laughter among these lowly lords and ladies.
Aemond sighs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep himself grounded as he walks towards the hallway that ends with a door to your room. He narrows his eye when he finds your knights nowhere to be seen, assuming you must have dismissed them yourself.
He reaches to knock on your door, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down before he rests his hand on the door, watching it slowly crack open. Why would you leave your door unguarded and open? Were you waiting for someone? Were you waiting for him?
With a curious look, he slowly pushes the door open, not wishing to startle you even though he could care less if you jump and scream out of fear, but he gives you this one privilege at least. He winces when the door makes a cracking sound, but he relaxes when he does not hear a sound of displeasure or concern coming from inside — in fact, the low humming catches him by surprise, making his ears perk at the sweet sound of melody filling your room.
When he has the door open enough to peek inside the room, he is taken aback by seeing you slowly disrobing, dropping layer after layer of your clothing on the ground, revealing your bare back to him.
His lips part in shock, sighing as he takes the newly exposed skin in, watching you drop your clothes on the ground, walking around your nightshift to grab your hairbrush.
Aemond is lost; seeing his wife mildly nude for the first time since he said his vows was something he did not really think about. Every thought he has had about you was always filled with anger, rage, and hatred, but deep inside, he could feel his feelings bubbling with anticipation for something far beyond whatever he had already experienced.
And now, seeing you brush your silver locks with grace makes his chest tighten, but your bare back has his mind turn cloudy and sinful, leaving him breathless as he feels his leather pants tighten.
Subconsciously, he pushes the door open a bit more forcefully than he intended to, making a loud crying sound. He freezes, his eye widening when you scream and turn around, throwing the brush at his face, but he dodges in time, watching in horror as the brush flies to the hallway.
“What is your fucking business here?” You yell at him, reaching for one of your jewelry boxes, holding it up to threaten him with another attack, “Speak, now!”
“I…I—fucking gods, woman!”
He says it with gritted teeth, moving his head quickly when you throw the box at him, hitting the door as he closes it so none of your belongings get lost.
“Were you watching me?” You ask, laughing in disbelief as you walk quickly to grab the nearest book on your desk, throwing at him again, “I reckoned your brother was the pervert one, but it appears it runs in the family!”
“Stop this madness!” He yells back, shielding his face with his arms as the book comes close to hit him in the cheek, “I was not watching, do not think yourself so appealing—“
“You do not find your wife appealing?” You point the candle holder you grab in the blink of an eye towards Aemond, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a step closer, “You come into my room, watching me peel off my clothes until I am naked just to say you do not find me appealing?”
“I did not say that, wife—“ he holds his hands up, slowly backing away from you, his back hitting the wall with a soft ‘thud’ before he resumes talking, “I was merely disagreeing about how I am of a sick mind, I am not, I wished to talk to you—“
“Nonsense!” You step closer, holding the sharp candle holder in his direction, “You said it, I heard it with my own ears! I despise you for being here, for being my husband, for trying to break me while it is you who does not wish to warm my bed.”
“Drop that thing, wife,” he sighs, gently trying to reach and grab it from you but you take a step back suddenly, glaring at him, “Don’t force me to come here and take it from you.”
“I would like to see you try, husband,” Venom drips from your words while you stare daggers at him, your grip tightening around the candle holder “Get out of my room!”
“You are my wife, I will do as I please,” his tone matches yours as he stares back at you, his eye darkening at the sight of your chest visible underneath your thin nightshift, “If I wish to stay here, I will—“
“Get. Out!”
Before you are given the chance to throw what you are holding at him, Aemond grabs you by your wrist, pulling you closer as he switches your positions and pushes you against the wall; one knee between your legs and both of his hands pinning your wrists to the wall with one next to your head and the other above it.
“Why must you be so difficult?” He whispers, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at you, his fingers tightening around your wrists until you whimper and drop the candle holder, chest heaving as you look up at him.
“I am a reflection of how you treat me,” you spit the words out, craning your neck to lean closer to him, your nose brushing against his, “I despise you for the air you breathe, for the wine you drink—“
“And you do believe that I don’t seeth every time I am reminded that you are my wife?” He pushes his nose against yours forcefully, keeping your head locked against his and the wall with his forehead on yours, his hot breath mingling with your quick panting, “I wish to tear through everything that reminds me of you and your father—“
“Then do, coward,” you cut him off, your eyes falling down to his pink lips, wiggling against his hold, trying to free yourself, “Make me hate you more than I already do.”
And he does; his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he lets go of one of your wrists to pull you in closer by your waist, his nails digging into your flesh.
Your hand goes to his soft silky hair, pulling on the hair tie roughly as you kiss him back, threading your fingers through his locks, tugging at the root of his hair while he bites down your lips, freeing your other wrist too.
Aemond’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his tongue pushing past your lips so he can taste you thoroughly. He bucks his knee to your clothed core, encouraging you to go ahead and take your fill, rock your hatred into oblivion.
You whine as you slowly grind down on him, your lips falling apart as you break the kiss to gasp for air, your hand tugging at his hair while your other hand goes to his doublet, undoing it quickly while your hips pick up the pace.
“Go on, wife,” he whispers, hand letting go of your jaw before he reaches down to rub your heat over your underwear, letting out a shaky sigh when he finds a wet spot on the fabric, “So much for hating me, your cunt is betraying you.”
“Fuck you—“
“Fuck me indeed,” he pushes your underwear aside, swiping his fingers through your wet folds, enjoying the broken whine you let out.
He leans down, prepping kisses and bites along your neck, sinking his teeth a bit too hard when you push his doublet down and dig your nails in his pecks. Aemond’s thumb circles your pearl, making you tremble under his touch as he makes your essence drip on your inner thighs.
You throw your head back when he gently prods your entrance with one finger, easing the digit inside your warm walls with ease because of your wetness. He hums against your collarbone, enjoying how slowly you are losing yourself in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms — although the scratches you are leaving on his chest through his undershirt are the opposite of what he thinks.
He adds another finger, scissoring you open as he pumps his finger in and out of you, going in knuckles deep while he curves his digits, enjoying how your face twists with pleasure and a fit of anger that fuels because of how it is him who is giving you this pleasure.
“I need more,” you whine, one hand coming down to rest against his wrist, keeping his hand there as he thrusts his fingers faster, the lewd sound of squelching echoing in the room.
“I will give you more,” he goes faster when he notices how your eyes drop shut and your legs start to shake around his hand, your walls gripping his fingers for dear life, “I will make you fall in love with me.”
“Impossible,” you gasp, toes curling as you shake and peak around his fingers, throwing your head back against the wall while you gush and release all over his hand, “You are unlovable.”
“As I said before…” he whispers before he pulls his fingers out, wiping your wetness on your nightshift before he grabs the side of the fabric and tears it in half, leaving your body bare to his eye, “Your body betrays you, wife.”
You look at him in shock, covering your breasts with your arms, but Aemond has none of it; he slaps your arms away, taking off his undershirt, revealing his smooth chest before he grabs you by the nape and pulls you in for another kiss.
Your lips crash into each other, your hands tugging and pulling on the other’s hair while Aemond leads you to the bed, nearly tripping over the pile of clothes.
He drops you on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you to meet you halfway for another passionate kiss, his hips pressing against the side of your hip before you spread your legs for him, pulling him even closer.
You reach between your bodies to palm the growing tent in his pants, squeezing and relishing in the sound he makes in your mouth before you urge him to push his pants and breeches down enough to free his cock.
You loathe how pretty he is, how pretty his cock is. You despise him for being the definition of Targaryen beauty, but now, the man you hate the most, the man who you have the spiteful pleasure of calling your husband, is about to take you for the first time.
He knows, of course he knows, because the queen would never choose anything less than a noble lady for her precious son; so he goes gently after he strokes his length a few times, pumping it to full hardness. He guides the red weeping head of his dick to your entrance, pushing in slowly, his hands going to your hips as he sits up on his knees so he can watch as he breaches past your muscles, the tip of his cock disappearing inside you.
You writhe beneath him, fisting the bed sheets as you nod and wait for him to go all the way in, pushing you to your limits as the stretch begins to be a bit painful, but he brings your hands to his chest, urging you to scratch him as hard as you wish when you feel any discomfort.
Aemond thrusts himself inside you completely, groaning at the tight feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice, holding onto him until he has carved the shape of his cock within your walls.
He drops forward, holding himself up by his hands on each side of your face before he starts hammering himself inside you, making you gasp and moan incoherent words underneath him — the princeling in him only lasted for a few minutes, and now, he is just the Aemond who finds you annoying and miserable, fucking you as you are; the wife he hates, the woman he craves.
The rise and fall of your chest grows faster, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers leaving red angry marks all over his shoulder blades and back while you lock your legs around his slim waist, keeping him caged against you.
There are no words exchanged, there is no need to when both of you are moaning and groaning at the feeling, biting each other until there are visible signs of your tryst for the court to see on the next morrow.
He feels your walls clenching around his girth, bringing both his and your high closer. One of his hands reaches down, circling your nub so you fall over the edge of bliss, euphoria rushing through your body.
He follows closely, hammering his cock deep inside you until he buries himself into you and paints your walls with his seed, his eye wide open as he stares down at you, lips parted and pupil blown.
He pulls out of you after his body stops shaking, dropping down on the bed next to you as he tries to catch his breath, his arm lying limp on top of your body.
You feel his cum dribbling out of you, alerting you of what you have done. Suddenly, a wave of hatred crashes into your head, and you turn your head to look at his peaceful face before you start shoving him down your bed.
“Get out, arsehol!” You pull the covers on you, keeping them secure against your chest as you try to shove him down on the floor, “Get out of my room!”
“Easy, woman,” he throws his hands up in defeat, fixing his pants before he grabs his undershirt and puts it on, “I do not intend to stay here longer than needed.”
“I hate you,” you say, pushing him out of the door with force, frowning when he laughs into your face but you do not wait for him to reply before you slam the door shut.
But you hear him from the other side of the door.
“Mutual feelings, wife.”
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#rue writes✍️#hotd fanfic#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond x you#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x velaryon reader#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader#hotd smut
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Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons
Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.
But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"
Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.
That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.
To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.
Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.
And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.
Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.
Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.
Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.
So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.
And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.
Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.
Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.
#baldurs gate 3#oppenheimer#barbie#barbie movie#hollywood#game industry#media#indie media#media criticism#anti capitalism#late stage capitalism
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love & company - r. sukuna
❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]
❦ oneshot
❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞
❦ cw ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. friends to lovers. fluff. hurt/comfort. p in v. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). degradation (slut). choking. pet names (princess, brat, woman, girl). size kink. rough sex. unprotected. biting. hair pulling. manhandling. toxic relationship (not sukuna). manipulation (not sukuna). reckless driving. use of alcohol and cigarettes. reader is implied to be short/small mostly in comparison to sukuna but he's huge so. ooc warning for sukuna given that this is modern and i want him to be more realistically human. i probably got some of the bike information wrong.
❦ words ; 24.2k.
main masterlist || love & company masterlist
A cool evening wind chills your skin as you hunch over your bike on the side of the road. You’re thankful for your thick leather jacket to protect you from the brisk winds, but it doesn’t make it easy to work when your thoughts continue to stray to the fast-approaching night.
Your Kawasaki motorcycle puttered to a stop an hour ago and you’ve been on the side of the road ever since. Of course it would happen today of all days, where your patience runs thin and you want nothing more than to be curled up in bed.
Your small array of tools that you keep for times like these are finally proving useful, but you can hardly bring yourself to care as you run out of things to check. You’re almost certain the issue is a clogged fuel line at this point but without the necessary tools to check, you’re fresh out of ideas on what to do aside from calling a tow truck.
The sound of another passing motorbike is grating on your ears as someone speeds by on a bright red Ducati and you want to curse them out just for having a working bike, but to your surprise, they circle back a minute later and pull up next to you.
A broad-shouldered figure steps off the bike, pulling a dark helmet off and giving his head a shake, running a hand through his pink hair to give it a naturally windswept look. Tattoos line his sharp jaw and scars litter his right eye. Deep near-crimson eyes lock on you, a mildly cold expression spread over the tall man’s features. He’s just about the textbook definition of what you would think of as a ‘bad boy’.
He looks you over before taking in the state of your bike. The sight of you covered in grease and oil sitting in defeat on the ground is amusing to him to say the least- you don’t much look the part of a biker between your small figure and approachable stature but one look at your bike and attire tells him not to judge a book by its cover.
“Need a hand?”
Unfortunately for the tattooed man, he’s caught you in a bad mood.
“No,” you grumble, picking up your wrench and dipping back into a rhythm of checking everything.
“I’ve got more tools than just a wrench,” he offers. Your intense gaze looks him over again, surveying the black leather hanging off his shoulders and red helmet that matches his bike tucked under his elbow.
“I can handle myself,” you insist, not keen on accepting a stranger’s help, especially given his cold expression.
“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he retorts with a click of his tongue. “Just askin’ if you want a spanner or pliers.” His eyes flicker to the moon rising in the sky. “Or a flashlight.”
You follow his gaze out to the rising moon, its light not offering enough of a look at your bike to be all that helpful as night begins to fall.
You sigh, wiping perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. The man’s lips quirk upwards in a minute smirk at the sight of the grease you accidentally wipe on your head. He thinks it’s cute.
“A spanner would be helpful,” you give in, pulling a pair of pliers from where you’d set them down beneath your knee to show you did at least have a couple of tools handy.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, the tall man turns to the backpack he’d set on the ground behind him. He sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulls out a spanner, handing it to you in place of the torque wrench you’ve set at your side.
He’s silent as you thank him and begin adjusting the spanner’s size to detach the fuel line. Standing in silence, he does little more than watch given that you don’t seem to want his help.
When the fuel line finally detaches, you groan as you realize you’d been right about the problem the entire time and the line is blocked. Without an air compressor, there isn’t much you can do to get your bike running again and your shoulders slump in defeat.
“Now d’you need a hand?” He asks with a raised brow and a small smirk.
The look you shoot him is fiery and he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t think your attitude is cute. It suits the strange vibes he gets from you in the best of ways.
“I’ll just call for a tow,” you insist, still refusing the help of the stranger you know nothing about, aside from the fact that he has just about the most high-end street legal sports bike in pristine condition and you find it to be pretentious.
“Suit yourself. I can fix it for free, though.”
You press your lips into a thin line, brow furrowed as you look over his features. The man practically towers over you, he’s built like a tank and dwarfs you in every sense. His expression is aloof, giving away very little about him. You have no reason to believe he’s lying though, so with a sigh, you give in and hand him the spanner he’d lent you.
The man lowers himself beside you, disconnecting the other side of the fuel line entirely as he begins pulling apart the carburetor. You sit back, watching your bike attentively as though he might do damage to it, but his fingers move deftly as if this is all muscle memory to him.
“What’s your name?” You ask as the silence stretches on. It’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, as he grabs a rag and water bottle from his backpack. He glances at you as he wets the rag and begins cleaning the carburetor.
“Sukuna.”
“You know your way around a bike.”
“Been riding for a while.”
You nod. Despite his kind actions, his words are distant and frigid, so you decide not to push the subject.
It’s silent for a while as you sit with your hands splayed on the asphalt behind you, watching his actions. Your eyes survey the man hunched over your bike, admiring the smooth lines of the tattoos that line his jaw, more ink just barely visible along his neck from beneath his jacket. His hair looks freshly dyed and his right eye is dotted in long scars that have you wondering what happened.
If the situation were any different, you might be hesitant to accept his help, but in truth you’re too tired to complain.
It’s not much longer before your bike is back together. Wiping his hands with the rag, he nods to the bike.
“Give ‘er.”
Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn the key. The engine flips once, twice, three times, before finally sputtering to life.
“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you sigh in relief, shaking your head. “I thought the issue was the fuel line,” you groan over the sound of the engine.
“It is. You need to replace it, this should get you a few miles away though.”
You nod affirmatively, reaching down to hand back his tools. Sukuna dumps them in his bag and throws it over his shoulder.
“You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you,” you tell him, your mood no longer sour as your bike continues to roar, thankfully not dead on the side of the road anymore.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He simply shrugs.
“Let me buy you a drink, or something,” you insist in spite of your exhaustion, though his cold demeanor doesn’t give you much hope that he’ll accept anyway, so you figure you’ll be able to get some rest regardless of the offer.
As he turns to grab his helmet, you half expect him to start his bike and drive off without another word, ignoring your offer entirely. It’s just the impression he gives you, but he surprises you.
“Keep up, then.”
Your brow raises and before you have a chance to complain that you’re covered in a layer of sweat and grease and you’d meant at a later date, his bike is roaring to life.
You scramble onto your own bike and follow him closely. Sukuna is half-shocked when you actually pull up into the parking lot of a small bar right behind him, pulling your helmet off and shaking your head in an effort to fix your hair.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t find everything about you intriguing. From your bike to the way you ride and your feisty disposition all packaged in such a tiny figure compared to him, he thinks it’s cute. Maybe even something more than that.
He leads the way to the bar wordlessly as you complain about the grease coating your body, but he barely notices the oil marking your skin. He’s used to it, if anything, from working on his own bike.
You aren’t even sure if he’s listening given his flippant attitude and lack of response, but you drone on regardless. It’s better than silence.
Choosing to ignore your frustrated rambles, he orders a whiskey and glances in your direction.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile, waving your hand in the air like you don’t much mind what exactly you’re drinking. It’s your turn to surprise Sukuna.
“Don’t think I caught your name,” Sukuna says as you lean over the bar beside him.
You tell him your name with a sweet smile, your mood clearly improved as you take the whiskey and damn-near down it in one swift movement.
When your eyes land on Sukuna again, he’s smirking. He’s not really sure what to make of you nor you of him, but he certainly likes it.
Though you both elect not to have any more alcohol in favor of driving home later, conversation comes easily for the rest of the hour. At least, as easily as it comes for Sukuna.
“Where’d you get your bike?” You ask decidedly, trying to make conversation with the stoic individual.
“A shop up north.”
“Looks like it cost a pretty penny.”
He hums in approval.
That’s about how most conversations with him go, so when you throw your jacket on and insist you should get home, you’re admittedly surprised when he pauses and holds his hand out expectantly.
You stare up at him curiously. Not once had you gotten the impression he was interested in any of your conversations, yet now he wants something from you? You can’t decide what to make of this, what to make of him.
“Sorry, um,” you stare down in confusion at his expectant hand, mouth opening and closing as you try to decide what to say.
“Your phone,” he instructs and your pretty eyes widen as you stare up at him, the difference in stature between you both now incredibly apparent as he dwarfs you when standing over you.
“Oh!” You stare at him with pursed lips and pull your phone out, opening it to your texts. He sends himself a text and hands your phone back wordlessly, before turning his shoulder as he walks out abruptly, leaving you further confused.
Chasing after him, you just barely catch him as he kicks his bike’s stand up and throws his helmet on.
“Thanks again!” You call after him. He glances over his shoulder and though you can’t see his expression behind the dark visor of his helmet, he smirks back at you before driving off.
As you just barely make it back home on your sputtering bike, you manage to replace the fuel line and shoot him a text.
11:53 PM You || fixed the fuel line. thanks again, youre a lifesaver
11:55 PM Sukuna || thanks for the drink.
In all honesty, you figure that’s the last you’ll ever hear from him, but you quickly find out that the cold disposition he gives off isn’t really all there is to him when he asks if you want to go to a bike show a week later.
He fails to mention that his youngest brother Yuji would be joining you for the show, but as you walk the show floor with him and his younger sibling, you realize his brother likely just got all the conversation genes.
Sukuna is still aloof, he doesn't say much to you outside of comments about the bikes and even though he’s the one that invited you, you still can't tell if he enjoys your company. Although he’s quiet, his presence is surprisingly alluring and you're grateful to have someone to listen to your ramblings, even if he doesn't seem interested.
As you walk the length of the convention hall, weaving between crowds of people that seem to part at Sukuna’s menacing figure, Sukuna pauses to look at gorgeous black Yamaha. You barely catch the way he silently stops, managing to point out the pause to Yuji just in time to keep you all from getting separated.
“Don’t think I’ve heard him talk this much in ages,” Yuji comments with a raised brow. You tilt your head towards him, following his gaze to Sukuna.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” the younger man scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have my license yet but I like lookin’ around. He’s usually pretty snippy about which bikes I should be looking at,” he shrugs. “You guys must have a lot in common for him to be so chatty.”
Chatty, you practically scoff to yourself. The man barely said ten sentences to you.
You do notice the way he shoots Yuji a glare or groans about his chatting on occasion, though. Not once does he direct that at you.
Even still, you don't expect him to keep inviting you out. Ten sentences isn’t exactly something to form a friendship on.
Continuing to surprise you, you still hear from him. Next thing you know, you’re invited to ride with him and his brother Choso, invited out to dinner with a group of his friends and he even accepts your invite to see a horror movie with a couple of your friends.
You’re quick to learn that Sukuna is just like that.
Sukuna’s mild and somewhat haughty disposition is something you grow accustomed to as you learn how to talk to him. Though you find yourself talking mostly at him, you realize that’s just how he likes things. He pays a surprising amount of attention to your words, though you don’t tend to notice until he shows it through actions later.
He shows up to your work with takeout on his lunch break when you mention you forgot your lunch. He goes shopping with you despite his distaste for malls when you tell him you need some new clothes. He’s more agreeable when you’re around and his friends are quick to point it out, insisting you need to be there at all times to make him more tolerable, though they’re mostly joking.
He does treat you differently from the rest of his friends. You figure it’s just because your friendship is new, though.
After being invited along on a ride down the highway to a neighboring small town with Sukuna’s friend Uraume and his brother Choso, you eye up Sukuna’s plate. You’d ordered no side with your meal but god his fries look good. You shoot him a curious glance, met with his typical aloof expression, if not one of mild irritation. Glancing again at his fries, you reach over to steal one, pleased when you pop it in your mouth.
Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, muttering under his breath about you ‘being a brat’ and how ‘you should have ordered a side’, but it’s all a show as he lets you steal another one when you smile sweetly at him.
When Choso follows your act, wanting to try the fries as well, Sukuna swats his hand away with a hiss. “My plate isn’t a buffet,” he growls contemptibly. Choso wrinkles his nose, shaking his hand of the harsh slap.
When Sukuna gets up to use the washroom, Choso waits until he’s out of earshot to comment.
“How the hell did you get away with getting some of that asshole’s fries?”
You shrug. “Dunno. He just let me.”
“Grumpy bastard…”
Again, you insist you just don’t know him well and he’s being kind so the action is brushed off.
A week later, Sukuna insists you tag along with his buddy Toji to get drinks, but when you arrive at the meeting spot and pull your helmet off, Sukuna is haughtily arguing with the raven-haired man.
“C’mon, it’s cheap. Their food’s fine.” Toji insists with little more than a raised eyebrow and an unamused sigh.
“What food?” You ask with a smile as you saunter over to the two much taller men.
“Red’s,” Toji responds gruffly, his unamused expression turning to one of intrigue as he realizes you must be Sukuna’s friend. “You must be y/n.”
You grin at him as he smirks.
“Toji,” he introduces himself. “Now can ya tell this asshole that Red’s is cheap?”
Sukuna’s arms are crossed over his chest. “We can do better for cheap.” He all but hisses, his eyes fixed in the distance.
“I’ve never been,” you glance between the two with pursed lips, mentally chuckling to yourself at how much you have to look up to both men. “I think it sounds good.”
Sukuna’s arms fall to his side as his fiery eyes lock on you. He pauses for a moment, sparing a glance at Toji, but those deep eyes return to you with a begrudging sigh as he grumbles something under his breath.
“Fine.”
Toji’s eyes widen as he dangles his keys from his hands, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he fists the keys as he gets ready to get in his car and head to the bar. He pauses before opening the door, a shit-eating grin spread over his scarred lips.
“Think I need ya to tag along more often, y/n.” He catches the tilt of your head and chuckles. “Think ya tame this shithead a bit.”
Sukuna roars something at Toji as he tries to catch him before the door slams and the car speeds off, leaving you giggling at the interaction.
Toji’s not the last to point it out, either.
You don’t think much of it, though. Sukuna just shows he cares through his actions and that’s how you come to know him as your best friend.
Sukuna is, of course, smitten with you. He adores how perfectly you seem to understand him. He loves the way you invite him along to everything with your friends despite his tendencies to scare others off. He loves that in spite of the trouble he gets himself into, your opinion of him never changes. He loves that you text him about stupid things, and that even when his response is inhospitable, you continue to text him like you would any other friend.
Because you’re his best friend. And he won’t admit it to anyone, but you know. He knows you know.
You get him.
So of course when you excitedly text him about your date, you have no way of knowing that his naturally cold responses are no longer his usual tone. They’re frigid, maybe even mildly snarky, but over text you don’t see the way his brow is knit tightly in contempt.
When he meets your boyfriend for the first time, you notice the strange tension between your best friend and partner. Your boyfriend brings it up but you had warned him in advance that Sukuna comes across that way, so you brush it off as little more than Sukuna being himself.
Yet, you notice the little things. You’ve known Sukuna for a long time now. You notice the way his jaw tightens when he sees your boyfriend lean down to kiss you at a dinner for your birthday a year into your relationship. You tilt your head questioningly at him from across the table, a silent query, but he doesn’t give you a response, that mild expression never once leaving his eyes as he leans back in his seat.
“Kuna?” Your sweet voice pulls his attention down to you when you pull him aside as everyone is saying goodnight outside the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
You cock your brow at his flippant response, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “I know you well enough to know you’re lying,” you insist with an expectant look.
God, that look makes his hardened expression falter. Sukuna is well aware that he’s unapproachable, scary even. His form is built and he towers over most everyone, not to mention his constant disinterested expression and the tattoos he sports.
You often tease him for his ‘resting bitch face’.
Yet here you are, hand on your hip, so small and sweet, a fire lit behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Cute.
“It’s just been a long day, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He knows you don’t believe him, but it’s the best you’re getting and you know that as well as he does. Hurt flashes through your eyes and he does feel a pang of guilt, but he keeps it locked away as he sighs and pulls something from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
Your wide eyes look up at him in shock. You’d insisted no one should get you a gift, but when you texted him this morning and told him your boyfriend, so cheerily talking to your friends behind the two of you, had forgotten your birthday, he couldn’t leave you empty-handed in that way.
You gingerly reach out and take the box from him. You know what it is instantly and the way your cheeks redden, the way it shocks you to silence has him smirking, mostly to himself. His hands remain in his pockets, his unamused expression locked on your hands that hesitate as you slowly open the velveteen box.
Lying so beautifully strewn in the box is a necklace you pointed out to him when you’d gone shopping together what must have been years ago now. A gorgeous silver chain lays delicately holding a dainty bejeweled star with your birthstone in the center. Of course he’d been paying attention. He always does.
“You didn’t,” it’s all you can manage as you stare at it in disbelief. To your surprise, Sukuna is smiling softly down at you, a rare sight that you want to burn into your retinas.
“You deserve a good birthday.”
You know it’s a dig at your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that should be a sign, but you’re too caught up in the moment as tears brim your eyes.
“This was so expensive though, I- I- can’t-”
“You can and you will.”
You know when Sukuna demands something, he means it. This is one of those times.
Tears threatening to spill, you wrap your arms tightly around his toned middle. If he weren’t a giant in comparison to you, you might have bowled him over with the force you hug him with.
Sukuna relishes in the moment, memorizing the feeling of your body in his arms, the way you bury your head into his chest, hiding your tears in his hug as they inevitably stain his white V-neck, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap tightly around you, one of the rare times he returns one of your affections.
When you part from him, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, Sukuna takes the box from you, moving to put the necklace on with ease. He moves like every action he takes is practiced as he confidently clasps the necklace around your neck.
“It’s beautiful,” you hum as you look down at it, running a delicate finger over the pendant.
The salmon-haired man hums mildly. “‘Course. You chose it.”
You examine his eyes, your expression unreadable as you contemplate Sukuna’s actions.
He may be agreeable around you, he may be willing to make compromises with you that he won’t for others, but this is new for him. This is sweet, and he knows you’re thinking such a thing too when he meets those pretty eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t care anymore, though.
He wants you to be happy.
When your boyfriend confronts you about the necklace later that night, you tell him the truth. Maybe you hope he’ll realize he fucked up. Maybe you hope he’ll right his wrongs.
Instead, you end up in an argument as your boyfriend insists that his mistake in forgetting the date was honest but that Sukuna overstepped boundaries.
Maybe your best friend did, in truth.
And so as your boyfriend snaps when you defend your best friend and the argument takes a turn for the worse, maybe it shouldn’t be that same best friend that you turn to. Maybe that will just make things worse.
But the phone only rings twice before he picks up.
He sounds tired, his voice coated in sluggish exhaustion as he mumbles a ‘hello’ on the other line. You hear the rustling of sheets on the other end, a pang of guilt clawing at your throat as you know you’ve woken him up.
“Kuna?” The tone of your voice is foreign to him. Meek, strained. Even earlier in the night when you had confronted him about his cold disposition, your tone still held that unwavering strength and fire that he loves about you, so this wakes him up.
Leaning up on his elbow in bed, he squints at his phone.
“It’s three in the morning, y/n.”
“I know.” You pause and Sukuna waits for you to explain. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s listening. “We got into a fight.”
Sukuna sighs, full of disdain, though not towards you. Never towards you.
“You safe?” His voice is surprisingly soft, though you chalk it up to him being tired.
You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “... yeah.”
He hears you sniffle on the other end of the line and has to physically resist the urge to say things he’ll regret about your boyfriend. “Right. ‘M on my way. Stay put.”
He hangs up, wasting no time in throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black V-neck. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, although it doesn’t do him any favors and he isn’t about to waste time styling it. As it stands, you’ve seen him in a worse state after some particularly wild nights that had ended with one of you on the other’s couch.
His bike roars to life outside his apartment and he’s off into the cold night air, barely grazing his skin as his leather jacket and helmet protect him from the bite. He pushes the limits of his bike and of the road as he speeds past any cars he comes across on the short drive to your house, and he’s glad he did when he spots you on your front doorstep, head in your hands in little more than pajama shorts and a tank top.
He’s off his bike in an instant, shaking his head as he takes his helmet off in an effort to fix his hair before he kneels in front of you.
You’re relieved at the sight of him, clearly fresh out of bed and having hurried right over. Your knight in shining armor. Or at least a shiny red helmet.
His brow furrows as he looks you over, spotting the goosebumps that litter your bare legs and arms.
“Shit,” he mutters as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs his leather jacket off, wrapping it around you. It engulfs your figure almost entirely, draping over you like a dress. If the situation was any different he would think it’s adorable.
You look up at him between long, wet lashes, fresh tears streaking down your makeup-stained cheeks. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and you’re sure your exhaustion and defeat are written across your face in bright bold lettering by the way he frowns.
“Did he kick you out?”
“It’s a long story,” you mutter, just barely audible.
“I got time.”
There’s a note of contempt that floats between his words and you know just as well as he does that he’s resisting the urge to beat down your door and knock some sense into your boyfriend.
Your mouth opens then closes enough times that Sukuna grows impatient, muscles in his jaw clenching as he grows closer and closer to busting down your door when you finally find words.
“We’ve been fighting on and off since we got home,” you admit. Sukuna raises a brow. That was four hours ago. “He was pissed about- about-” you stammer over your words, biting your lip as you fiddle with the necklace that sits beautifully around your neck. Beautiful like you.
“Me,” Sukuna dryly finishes your sentence.
You frown and he knows he’s right. Of course. Maybe the necklace was overstepping this time, but he’d watched your shitty boyfriend step on you more times than he could count and hadn’t once said a word. He respected you and your fiery demeanor entirely too much to ever want to see you upset.
Yet no matter what path he chose, it seemed you would be upset regardless.
“He took my phone and went through everything,” you clear your throat as your voice cracks mid-sentence, staring down at the phone in your hands. The screen is cracked and Sukuna isn’t sure if he wants to know whether it was shattered before today or not.
Your words set him ablaze in anger. It burns like an itch on his skin and it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to hold himself back and just listen. The contrasting cold air is nice on his skin, soothing what little fury it's able to with its brisk touch.
“Do you remember that photo we took together on Halloween?”
Sukuna nods slowly. He knows exactly where this is going. It was well over a year ago, before you’d started dating your boyfriend, when you had convinced Sukuna to dress as a king and you his queen. He’d had a surprising amount of fun with it and with enough alcohol flowing through his veins, his words had grown more frivolous. He’d spent all night calling you his queen or his princess, pretty much until the moment he’d thrown up, the words ejecting from his dialect along with the alcohol. Regardless, the proof was in the texts between you from that night.
At some point in the night, you’d gotten a photo taken clinging to his shoulders, a calm smile on Sukuna’s lips as he’d carried you with ease. It made him smirk the following morning recalling the memory, glad it hadn’t disappeared with the words or alcohol.
Regardless, he’d missed his chance to shoot his shot, growing too accustomed to having you around to consider you didn’t see his change in attitude around you as anything more than friendly, so he’d retreated to his usual detached self.
Clearly that detachment wasn’t enough for your boyfriend as you flip him your phone screen. So it is newly broken.
God give Sukuna the strength to sit still.
“And you’re outside now, why?”
“I felt sick, I needed air.” You shrug, fiddling with your phone in your lap. “He got mad that I walked away and we ended up fighting again, then he slammed the door in my face.”
“He kicked you out,” Sukuna states matter of factly, venom dripping from each and every word.
“He locked me out,” you shrug again, but Sukuna doesn’t care for the details. You have no keys, not to your bike or your house, no jacket, you’re in shorts and a tank top… jesus.
“What a fucking prick.” With that, he’s on his feet and you know he’s about to slam his fist on your door. Or through it. Sukuna may be kind with you but the bad boy persona he sports isn’t a persona at all- Sukuna would not hesitate to knock your boyfriend clean out. He’d been to jail before, one more time wasn’t a big deal if it meant keeping you safe.
“Kuna.” He pauses at the plain tone you say his name in. It’s not a warning, it’s not scolding. He doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not now.”
He huffs and clicks his tongue. His jaw clenches as his shrunken, furious pupils stare down at you, but when he notices your legs are shaking from the cold, he relents.
“Fine.” The word is grumbled as his hands reach for your waist and lift you to your feet with little more than a hum when you’re standing at your full height, barely reaching his broad shoulders. He leaves a hand on the small of your back, setting his helmet over your head and zipping his jacket up over your small frame in an effort to keep you safe when you climb onto the back of his bike.
Sukuna glances back at you as you cling to his toned abdomen, his bike pulling away quickly. Riding with Sukuna is familiar. Though you normally follow him, his quick riding pace and not-entirely-legal maneuvers don’t scare you the way they once did, because everything Sukuna does feels practiced, rehearsed.
Pulling into his apartment building, he pulls the bike into a parking spot and lets you hand him the helmet as you follow him up to his apartment.
It’s a bit of a mess, dishes sit in the sink, empty bottles and cans littering the counter and a garbage bag sits at the door, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re safe and it’s not like he’d let you take the couch anyway given the current situation.
Sukuna moves to at least tidy the couch, fully expecting you to make yourself at home like you always do, but when he turns to see you’re staring at the ground in the entrance, his jacket wrapped around you like a blanket, he frowns. That’s not like you.
In fact, in all the years you two have known one another, Sukuna’s never seen you so spaced out.
“Did he hurt you?”
It’s his best guess as to why you’re so out of it, but when you shake your head, he’s simply at a loss.
Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. He’ll watch your favorite movies with you and make you food, but he doesn’t do words of comfort. He’s a man of action, and although the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on is standing in his apartment, he doesn’t dare to act on the stray thoughts running through his mind, even though he knows you deserve to be treated right.
Coming to stand in front of you, he sighs.
“Whaddya want me to do?”
Anyone else would assume he’s irritated with your presence, but you know it’s a genuine question. Your friend doesn’t know what you need and he’s trying his best to figure it out. He’s trying to help.
“Can I have a blanket?” You ask him, shoulders hunched in exhaustion.
There’s silence in the apartment as Sukuna moves to his bedroom to grab a blanket.
“The red one please!” You call after him as though that isn’t the one he’s already grabbing. He knows your favorite.
Returning to you, he drops the red blanket in your arms, his heart twisting as you pull his jacket off and hand it to him in exchange.
“Can I, um, come in?”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow questioningly, subconsciously fiddling with the tongue piercing in his mouth. Not once have you ever asked him to come in. You always, always, made yourself at home, even though it was much to his dismay the first few times you’d let yourself into his apartment in spite of his grumbles and irritated huffs.
Sukuna’s reaction is all the permission you need as you realize he must find the whole situation strange, but everything feels foreign to you. It’s not like you haven’t stayed at Sukuna’s before, it’s not like the couch isn’t your second bed, it’s that you feel like you’re betraying your boyfriend by being here.
Not that Sukuna would do anything anyway, you know he doesn’t see you in such a way. You may be his closest friend but he’s never once shown any sort of other interest towards you. Even if he did see you that way, he’s just not that kind of person.
Still, you gingerly sit at the edge of the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself in the massive blanket. Sukuna moves to sit beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you want to do, if you want to talk.
But you don’t answer, and Sukuna is at a loss of what to do. A contemplative silence settles over you as he leans his head back against the couch, eyeing you and hoping you’ll say something.
“Can I ask you something, Ryo?”
The use of the nickname he lets only you call him quirks his brow as he realizes you’re serious.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
That’s… not what the gruff man was expecting to hear.
His jaw tightens as his piercing eyes stare down at you. He rubs a hand over his face as he tries to make sense of the question, too tired to be thinking this deeply over something. He stares at you pensively as though the world rests on this one response.
“Yeah. You’re pretty.”
Your eyes fall to your knees and the way Sukuna’s head tilts, you’re sure he thinks he’s made a mistake.
“Thanks, Kuna.”
“The fuck did that prick say to you that has ya askin’?”
You hesitate, avoiding his discerning eyes as Sukuna’s chest surges with anger. Your best friend’s fist clenches in his lap as he leans forward, examining your expression.
“What the fuck did he say?” Sukuna’s voice is monstrous, but you could never fear his anger knowing he’s never once directed it your way. You know he’s irritated you haven’t answered yet, but even between his irritation and the gruff tone he uses, he could never scare you.
“He told me I couldn’t do better than him.”
“And?” Sukuna pushes demandingly, his fingers clasping the back of his couch so hard you wonder if he has the strength to crush it.
“That he’s way out of my league and should have chosen…” you trail off, not oblivious to the way Sukuna quirks a brow for you to continue. When you meekly whisper your friend’s name, Sukuna’s seething.
Fury practically drifts from his body like smoke and to your surprise you do hear the couch creak beneath his hand.
You’ve only ever seen Sukuna this angry once before.
Sukuna’s closest friend aside from you, Uraume, often accompanied you on your trips to the bar with Sukuna and would join in on your rides with their own bike. The two of them were two peas in a pod, similar in all the ways you weren’t, but if anything it made you closer to Uraume for having an understanding of Sukuna.
For that exact reason, you’d spotted Uraume’s discomfort a mile away when someone began hitting on them. Uraume could handle themself, so you didn’t think much of it until the man’s hand was tightly gripping Uraume’s arm.
Alarmed, you pointed out Uraume’s discomfort to your drunk best friend and he didn’t hesitate to clock the man hitting on them.
So when Sukuna is on his feet with a familiar rage brewing and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, you know you have to calm him down before you’re bailing him out of jail again. It’s not something you want to make a habit of.
“Kuna, it’s okay.”
“No!” He hisses, swinging his hand through the air as he stares at the door.
“Please, I’ll be okay, I promise,” you try to insist, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“It’s not okay for him to say shit like that to you,” he growls, glowering from where he stands over you, eyes on the door. He wants to leave, you know he does.
“It’s not, I know, but it’s not your problem.”
“Not my- What the fuck don’t you get?”
Your eyes widen at Sukuna’s question. His voice is frigid as ever, but for once you feel the shards of ice pricking your skin.
“What?” Your dumbfounded and hurt question hangs in the air momentarily as you try to process this outburst.
Sukuna’s scarred eye twitches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He huffs out a breath as he sees your expression, forcing himself to calm down so as not to make this about him. He doesn’t want to say something he regrets, and he certainly doesn’t want that icy tone to be directed at you, ever again.
“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
Your shoulders fall at his words, his chest heaving as he stares at you with an unidentifiable emotion.
“Where’s this coming from?” Your brow knits tightly over the bridge of your nose. As you subconsciously chew on your lower lip, Sukuna has to do everything in his power not to stare at your lips.
“Look, I just care, alright? Or somethin’.”
You barely know how to react to your best friend’s admission of care for you. Not once has he ever shown an ounce of his care through words. Sure, he’s shown it in other ways, but this is a first for him.
His gaze is fixed on the kitchen, so he barely notices when you stand up and set your hand on his arm, your thumb comfortingly rubbing his arm.
“I appreciate it, Kuna.” You tell him with a tired smile, doing your best to reassure him that you’re okay in spite of the situation. “Just… can we please just watch a movie or something?” You’re too tired, too worn out to handle everything going on right now and you’re afraid the buildup of emotions in your chest will overflow if you don’t distract yourself soon.
Sukuna’s focus fixes on your hand on his arm, the way it seems to burn into him in a way he’d long grown painfully familiar with. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab his arm and drag him somewhere, or hug him each time you said hello. Hell, the Halloween you’d both gotten entirely too drunk, you’d been on Sukuna’s back half of the night giggling and telling him, your King, where to take you.
Yet this time, the burn hurts. It hurts him to see you here with dried tears on your cheeks. It angers him to know your boyfriend had gotten away with treating you in such a way for so long.
He lets out a breath through his nose and takes a seat on the couch again at your insistence, watching as you drape the big blanket over the both of you. And god is it cute when you do, making sure he’s completely covered from the waist down like you’re tucking him in.
When you lean back against the arm of the couch, slinking comfortably back into the cushions and grab the remote, Sukuna feels his body begin to relax too, allowing himself to focus on your wellbeing here and now rather than the fact that he wants to pummel your boyfriend.
He’s not shocked when you flip through options and eventually settle on a Studio Ghibli movie he knows you’ve seen a million times because he’s seen it one too many times.
You know he doesn’t mind although he isn’t the biggest fan of the movie. Either way, it’s nearly five in the morning and you both know you’ll be asleep before you know it.
–
The next morning as cool air pours through a window and birdsong decorates each blow of the breeze, the pounding of your head is a rude awakening. It’s too early for you to be up given that you were awake so late, but your phone seems to think otherwise.
Your eyes flicker open blearily, and you lean up in bed with a yawn, realizing suddenly that you’re in Sukuna’s room and he’s nowhere to be found. Sitting up fully, you bring a hand up to your temple, pressing on it in an effort to ease the pain as you search for your phone, finding it eventually on the floor a small distance away.
Hopping down from the tall mattress, you yawn as you stare at the screen, your heart clenching at the sight of the contact photo on-screen as your phone rings. Your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both grin. With the way your screen is now shattered, it looks almost like a scene from a movie in the way it’s practically screaming a warning at you.
You’d spent far too much time alone with your thoughts the previous night. Hell, even with Sukuna’s comfort, his disdain for your boyfriend had been a bit of a wakeup call. Still, your thumb hovers over the green button.
“Hello?” Your voice is broken as you answer the phone.
“Thank god baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you outside last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
You take a couple of steps forward, walking towards the living room as your eyes lock onto the tall man draped over the couch, his limbs entirely too long for the cushions. He must have carried you to his bed at some point and taken the couch.
Your stomach twists as you realize your boyfriend’s words are all lost on you, you didn’t hear a single one. You’re not sure when you tuned him out, or how long you’ve been staring at Sukuna when your boyfriend’s words pull you from your thoughts.
“Y/n? Did you hear me?”
“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. What did you say?”
He sighs in frustration on the other side of the line and you wince as his tone gains a familiar edge. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you so we can talk.”
“I- um-” you pause, brow furrowing as you stare at your best friend, who begins to shuffle from his uncomfortable position on the couch as your soft voice awakens him from slumber.
“Y/n?” Your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the haze again, but you’re at a loss for words as Sukuna lifts his head, irritation written across his face at being awake, but when he flips over on the couch and spots you, his demeanor softens.
“Yeah. You’re pretty.”
Sukuna’s words ring in your head over and over and you bite your lip. He pushes himself up on the couch, moving to stand a small distance in front of you in three long strides.
Sukuna may not have a way with words, but you never had a hard time telling what he was thinking just by the way he looks at you. As he stares down at you with a tilt of his head, you know exactly what’s going through his mind.
Like that, it all clicks. Of course he hated your boyfriend. The signs were always there, you just didn’t pay them any mind. The reason he was colder than usual towards your boyfriend is as obvious as the sun in the sky.
Sukuna thinks you’re pretty. He wasn’t trying to comfort you when he said that. That’s not who Sukuna is. That may as well be an admission that he would move mountains for you.
“Y/n, baby? What’s going on? I want you home, now.”
Your chest twists at his tone and as your eyes meet Sukuna’s, you wonder if your phone is loud enough for him to hear when his lip twitches.
You clear your throat, your eyes never once leaving Sukuna’s from where he stands with tousled hair, wrinkled sweatpants and a bare chest. It’s not unfamiliar to you, you know Sukuna is beyond hot. You know Sukuna could take anyone he wants home and you know he has a streak of doing so, but now that you think about it, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen Sukuna with anyone, and you know why now.
“You left me outside all night in the cold.” Your voice is meek, still mindlessly chewing on your lip as you stare at the tattooed man’s eyes, now lit ablaze with a fire that hadn’t been there earlier. “You know what- I should go.”
“What? Baby, come on we need to talk-”
“I have nothing to talk to you about. We’re-” You pause, your stomach stirring uncomfortably as all of your emotions seem to collide and collapse within you. You feel the tears that threaten to spill, your composure that threatens to break as you ball your hand into a fist at your side.
Sukuna’s hand twitches beside him as he does everything in his power not to lean down and kiss you then and there. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants to show your boyfriend everything he’s about to lose.
He wants to make you his. He wants you to make him yours.
Yet, all he can reasonably do is set a hand on your upper arm. He can’t be selfish. Not when you’ve come to him in your time of need.
“We’re done.”
“Nonono, we are not done, hold on-”
“I’ll come grab my bike and my things soon-”
“-let’s talk about this, I just made a mistake, okay-”
“-goodbye.”
“Don’t hang up, baby, hold on, fuck-”
Your hand falls to your side as you stare up at the taller man.
He doesn’t say a word as a tear runs down your cheek, shortly followed by a sob wracking your body. Sukuna’s hand moves from your arm to the back of your head as he pulls you into his chest, holding you there as you cry against his bare skin, tears wetting his toned pecs.
It’s not his ideal morning, but at least he can shamelessly say now that he wants to rearrange your boyfriend’s face with his fist.
He won’t say it anyway, though. He knows better.
Your best friend doesn’t say anything but his actions speak volumes as he holds you to him protectively, unmoving as he envelops you into his form. He exhales deeply as he holds you tightly to his body, his fingers gripping you tightly. It’s reassuring to know you have him in your time of need and eventually your tears begin to subside.
You blink your wet lashes against his skin as your warm breath fans his chest and abdomen. He shoots you a disgruntled look as your lashes tickle his skin and he jolts at the feeling.
“Don’t be a brat,” he warns through gritted teeth, but it holds no malice.
You chuckle through tears. “Sorry, Ryo.”
He rolls his shoulders and holds you again, letting your face fall against his chest once more. This time, you’re careful to keep your eyes closed to avoid tickling him.
He’s surprisingly patient with you as he lets you stand there, only moving to take and silence your phone when he grows frustrated with the vibration.
When you finally settle, he leads you back to the couch, tossing his shirt and the blanket off the couch and onto the floor.
“Did you move me to the bed?”
He hums affirmatively, his chest warming as you smile at him. “Thanks, I could have taken the couch though. It looked a bit too small for y-”
“No.”
You breathe out through your nose in a half-hearted laugh. There’s never any use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind, so you give it up. Oh well.
“Can I stay here for a bit?”
You figure Sukuna will huff and puff and make a show out of it but he nods easily.
“Thanks,” you sigh, sinking back into the couch.
You stare at the ceiling. What a morning. You’ve barely been awake for ten minutes and your heart is pounding in your chest just from sitting beside your best friend, someone you’ve known for years.
Someone you’d long pushed any attraction for down into the depths of your heart in an effort to save yourself the heartbreak of being with someone who seemed to have no interest in you. Hell, you’d once thought he was emotionally unavailable, and yet…?
You can’t help but stare.
He’s exhausted, you’re not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake as his head bobs down onto the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar as sleep settles over his form. You smile softly at the sight, swallowing at the yearning feeling of wanting to settle into his warmth, though you know you shouldn’t.
You’re a mess. You’ve heard your boyfriend- ex- say things you aren’t ready to admit to yourself that leave fresh stinging wounds. Hell, that’s an entire can of worms you don’t want to touch right now. Your belongings, your bike, your entire life is all trapped in his house, in the house of someone that-
God why had you let him step all over you like that? It leaves you frowning as your heart twists and clenches uncomfortably. You loved him. Deep down, you know it’s the reason. You convinced yourself he loved you too.
You curse yourself for overlooking your feelings for Sukuna, for pushing them down. He’d always cared deeply for you, the signs had always been there, yet you never paid them any mind.
Chewing on your lower lip again, you get to your feet and grab the blanket off the floor, draping it over him. Your thumb brushes over the faded black lines that race over his shoulders and down his collar bones as you tuck the blanket over his shoulders.
He hums subconsciously, a serene smile pulling at his lips.
You smile back, turning to get some rest yourself. When Sukuna kicks his foot out suddenly and damn-near trips you, you let out a surprised yelp, spinning around to confront him.
“What the hell, Kuna?” You harshly snarl at him.
His lidded eyes just barely open, your reaction earning a smirk from him. There’s his feisty best friend.
“C’mere, it’s cold.”
It’s not cold, and Ryomen Sukuna is not sly, but your stomach flutters and your heart jumps to your throat anyway. Your shoulders fall to your sides in surprise, unable to be frustrated with him.
He flips the blanket up, his arm extended over the back of the couch. His expression is mild as usual but when you take him up on his offer and plop down next to him, his racing heart tells you everything you need to know.
Pulling your knees up onto the couch, you let him pull you against is chest, your head resting on his broad shoulder as he barely lasts a minute before the rhythm of his breathing steadies and his head falls back on the couch again.
You’re not long for the world of the waking either as you succumb to the temptation of sleep on his warm chest.
When your eyes flicker open again, your head has fallen into Sukuna’s lap and he’s splayed in what looks like an uncomfortable position with his arm and leg hanging off the couch. His head is still leaned back against the back of the couch with his mouth hanging open as soft snores part his lips.
It’s not the first time you’ve seen him asleep. You’ve spent many hungover mornings at his apartment and vice versa but now in the gentle morning light with the distant sound of birdsong as the only noise disturbing his snores, he looks peaceful.
You shuffle on his lap in an effort to get a better look at his serene expression, but his strained groan suggests that you may have awoken him earlier than he would have liked.
“Can ya cut that out?” He grumbles without opening his eyes as he reaches down and adjusts your head to lay more on his abdomen.
The irritation in his voice doesn’t hold a candle to the sincerity in which his arm now cradles you against him and you giggle, to which he opens an eye to observe you.
“Sorry,” you hum. He exhales as he closes his eyes again, sliding further down on the couch.
You lay in bliss on his toned and horribly attractive bare chest for what only feels like a few minutes before his eyes peel open and he’s drinking in the sight of you, his gorgeous best friend, smiling at him from his chest.
And oh my god, Ryomen Sukuna is blushing.
Would you really be his best friend if you didn’t point it out?
“Kuna?”
“Hm?”
“You a lil flustered?”
Sukuna’s brow furrows deeply. “I am not.”
“You’re blushing.”
“It’s warm in here, you’re laying on top of me and we have a blanket,” he refutes with an edge to his voice that tells you that you’re poking a nerve.
You also know him well enough to know it’s faux anger, playful if anything.
“Funny, I was told it was cold a couple of hours ago.”
His lip curls, chest rising and falling beneath you as he huffs. “You push my buttons.” You can see from the way a muscle in his jaw works that he’s fiddling with his tongue piercing.
“I could push more than just your buttons,” your voice drips with confidence, lowering an octave at the implication. You pull a hand out from beneath your chin, running a dainty finger across the length of his collar bone.
Sukuna’s pupils dilate in an instant, his attention drawn to your finger. He swallows hard, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk. All signs of his contempt forgotten, warmth swirls in those gorgeous eyes of his, but the smirk on his lips is devilish.
“Careful, princess,” he warns in a gruff voice that has you clenching your thighs together with wide eyes. Sukuna’s brow twitches as he feels your legs shuffle, entirely too happy with himself at getting such a reaction from you all from two words. He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you as you hide your face in his chest, heat radiating from your cheeks.
Tension is ripe in the air between you both when you finally meet Sukuna’s intense gaze and it makes a question pop into your mind.
“How long?” The words are blurted out and Sukuna shifts beneath you to get a better view.
“What are you on about?”
“How long have you liked me?”
Sukuna’s scoff hits the air before he can even register he’s made the noise. “Go get ready or whatever so we can pick up your shit.” His brow is pulled into a tight scowl as he all but shoves you to the ground.
You barely manage to catch yourself before falling on your ass, rolling your eyes as you steady yourself.
“Kuuuna!” You coo with a grin, but before you have a chance to tease him any further, Sukuna lunges at you. “Wait, wait-”
You shriek in protest as he barrels into your legs, effortlessly lifting you over his shoulder. He pays no mind to any of your protests, nor your kicking and squirming against him as he dumps you with little grace on his bed.
“What-”
“Stop complainin’ and go change or shower or whatever y’ gotta do. I want your bike back.”
Sitting up as you attempt to reorient yourself, you blink a couple of times and manage to call his name out just before he’s turning away.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” you tell him, staring down at your pajamas.
“You’ve been leaving shit here for years, find something in my closet.”
“Have I?” You wonder aloud, suddenly realizing your hungover mornings passed in his apartment are likely the culprit for many missing outfits. “Wait, why do you want my bike back?” You realize suddenly, but he’s already shutting the door to his room and leaving you in tranquility.
Standing in the silence broken only by distant birdsong and the muffled sounds of traffic, you find your gaze lingering on the door where he once stood.
How long? You wonder to yourself. How many signs, how many signals had you missed or brushed off all these years under the assumption that your grumpy best friend was just that- your best friend?
You set a hand over your fast-beating heart, trying to steady the pace it’s beating at as emotions run rampant through you. Between the shock of realization of Sukuna’s feelings and the shitty night you’d had- your birthday, by the way- you can’t help the shaky exhale that parts your lips.
It’s a lot to take in.
You take your time showering, enjoying the way the warm water rinses away all signs of the prior night. It’s a warm respite from the days that are beginning to grow frosty as winter approaches. Most importantly, the white noise of the water falling drowns out the steady stream of jumbled thoughts flowing like a river through your mind.
Perusing Sukuna’s closet, you do manage to find more of your clothes than you had expected.
“My nice leggings were here the whole time?” You mutter to yourself as you pull them from a pile of pants. Along with them, you manage to find a pair of jeans, more shirts than you’d care to admit, an old jacket and a hoodie.
Pulling on a form-fitting black low-cut shirt and a red leather jacket, you poke your head out of the bedroom door.
“Why’d you never give any of this back?”
Sukuna’s leaning out the window with a cigarette held between two fingers. He blows a puff of smoke out into the cool fall air before turning to you. He’s still in his sweatpants but has pulled his shirt on.
“I used to bring ‘em back to your place when I visited but they always ended up back on my couch,” he shrugs simply. “Wasn’t worth the time.”
“I didn’t know it was this much clothing.”
“Your memory’s shit.”
“Ouch,” you hold a hand to your heart, feigning being hurt.
He stubs out the cigarette, waving the smoke out the window with his arm before shutting it. “Done in there?”
You nod and exchange places with Sukuna as he showers. He takes less than a quarter of the time you did and is out with the most effortlessly cool style that you can’t help but be jealous of him.
His typical black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders with a vintage Harley Davidson shirt beneath. He sports ripped jeans on his lower half and blackout shades sit atop his spiked pink hair.
“See something you like?”
You barely manage to utter out a pathetic ‘uh’ before Sukuna’s chuckling at you as he catches you eyeing him from your place on the couch. He makes his way around the couch, patting your shoulder encouragingly.
“Let’s go.”
Shaking your head to clear your mind, you get to your feet and follow Sukuna to the door, stopping him before he can leave.
“Hey. Can you stay on the sidewalk while I talk to him?”
The tall man pauses at your serious tone, examining your expression. “Why?”
You know why he’s asking.
“I’m serious, Ryo. I don’t want you two fighting.”
“He treated you like shit, y/n.”
“I- I know.”
His jaw clenches. “The piece of shit deserves-”
“I know, okay? Please, this is what I’m trying to prevent. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll leave your ass in jail this time.”
His head falls back, eyes closed as he comes to terms with just how serious you are. He rolls his shoulders backwards once before nodding. “Whatever, fine.” His tone drips with exasperation and anger and you can only hope at this point that he means what he says.
“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, falling into place beside him as he leads the way down to his bike.
Though you rode behind him less than twelve hours ago, somehow it feels different today as he places his helmet on you and pulls you tight to his broad form. His feisty little backpack, so cute in his helmet. He’s not oblivious to the way your hands roam his abs either as a smirk pulls at his features. It’s a sweet momentary distraction from his searing anger.
It takes every ounce of self control that Sukuna has to stay at his bike as he watches you ring the doorbell of your own house. Thank god for the cold air keeping his anger from simmering through his skin. He’s sure he’d be a pile of molten anger otherwise.
You shuffle uncomfortably at the doorstep, knowing entirely too well that this is going to go poorly. You were practically asking for a fight by showing up with Sukuna but what better option do you have? Your wallet and keys are still sitting soundly on the nightstand of the bed you’d spent the last several months sleeping in. At least, that’s where they should be.
It takes a moment before the door creaks open, your ex’s surprised wide eyes staring back at you.
“Shit, thank god you’re home-”
You barely manage to duck from his grasp as he attempts to pull you into his embrace. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you face your ex, whose face contorts to one of pain when you duck away from him.
“I told you-” You mentally curse yourself as your voice breaks. Closing your eyes, you readjust and face your ex with confidence. “We’re done.”
“We need to talk,” he insists, his voice sickeningly sweet, and it almost makes you want to gag the way he swings between sweet nothings and manipulative cords that twist your heart.
“We talked for four hours last night. There’s nothing left to talk about!” You swing a hand through the air for emphasis as your voice rises, staring at him in disbelief. “Just let me in, I need my keys and-”
His arm swings out to block the door, knuckles white as he grips the frame of the door. His brow curls upwards in… frustration? Irritation? Anger? Pain? You’re not sure. “This is your home. You belong with me.”
You swallow the bile in your throat like a stone straight to the pit of your stomach. Once words like that would have made you swoon, now you feel as though you’re a deer in the headlights staring at a man you don’t recognize. A man who holds the barrel of a metaphorical gun.
You spare a glance behind you for reassurance, spotting Sukuna sitting at his bike. If it’s possible for a man to have smoke spewing from his ears, Sukuna is the spitting image of such a thing. His face is red with anger, hands clenched at either side of his body as he tries desperately to hold himself back.
He still remembers the way you excitedly told him about your new boyfriend. About how sweet he was, how kind he was. Although it pained him to know it was someone else making you happy, he was just glad you were happy. But when you had invited him to meet your boyfriend, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel as though the man didn’t match your description.
He’d tried to convince himself he was just being jealous, but the more time he spent around you, the more he noticed.
The last straw for Sukuna was when you had invited him, your boyfriend, and some of your closest friends along to see the latest installment in the Predator franchise. You’d stopped for dinner first and your boyfriend had insisted on ordering for you.
Sukuna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he had found it strange when a salad had been set in front of you. Not once had Sukuna ever seen you order a salad. Well, he had, but as a side. Never as the entire meal.
He’d tried to brush it off but when you’d decided on popcorn at the movie and your boyfriend had insisted you didn’t need it, Sukuna made a point of ordering a large one and sharing it with you.
Now as you look back at him uncertainly, every bone in Sukuna’s body screams to move. Yet his brain tells him to listen to you. He takes a breath in an effort to stay calm, deciding to respect your wishes.
“You brought him here?” Your ex pales as he follows your line of sight.
That seems to give you the confidence to face him again as anger sears through your blood. “You left me outside alone! He came to get me!” You search his face for any sign of remorse. When you don’t find it, tears prick at your eyes. Over a year spent together and he can’t even show you an ounce of kindness.
“I told you baby, it was a mistake!”
“No- No. No, a mistake is forgetting to turn off the sink, not leaving me outside in the cold with nothing but a broken phone.” Your voice drips with venom as the cold of the previous night envelops you in its memory, a reminder that this is for the best.
“Your phone isn’t broken, get over it y/n.” You glance down at his fist as it balls at his side.
“You shattered it.” You deadpan.
“Can we forget about the phone? For fuck’s sake.” He lifts his fist in the air to bring it up to his forehead as he attempts to calm himself down. “Look-” he shoots Sukuna a glance before smiling, his voice growing honeyed. “We’ll figure things out, okay? Why don’t you come in?”
You hesitate. You see the red flags as clear as day now that the fog has lifted, and you know Sukuna is grateful when you pleadingly look at him. His signal to come beat the shit out of your ex. Well, no, it isn’t. But he wishes it was.
Regardless, he’s up the front lawn to the door of the small house in an instant, standing behind you with all the self-control he can physically muster.
“We’re having a private conversation, would you mind-”
“Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” You insist, backing into Sukuna as your ex reaches for your arm. You’re thankful in this moment that your closest friend is nearly seven feet and built like a brick wall as it could never really matter who he’s up against, he’ll always be the scariest one in the room.
Your ex’s mouth curls into a snarl, eyeing Sukuna’s hands that rest easily on your upper arms.
“You’ve gotta be-” he grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand that isn’t blocking you from entering the house. “Come on baby, you know you belong with me and not-” he cuts himself off as he shoots Sukuna an icy glance.
You shift uncomfortably at the tone he uses as he says that you belong with him, growing uneasy the longer you’re in his presence. Steeling your resolve, you straighten yourself and muster as much confidence as you can.
“This isn’t about Sukuna. You left me outside in the cold last night and I called my best friend to get me,” you tell him without missing a beat. Sukuna is practically grinning behind you as your ex’s jaw clenches but you don’t see the exchange between the two men. “Oh, and I don’t belong with or to anyone.”
Sukuna squeezes your arm in reassurance.
“I need my keys and wallet. I’m taking my bike and some clothes.”
Your ex mulls over your words before relenting finally, just as you’re beginning to think you’ll be without belongings. “Fine, but he stays outside.”
You glance up at Sukuna, whose expression is unreadable. “Fine,” you agree, slipping from Sukuna’s grasp and into the house. Your ex goes to close the door in Sukuna’s face, but a steady hand stops him just as you dash out of sight into your old bedroom.
“Let go of the door, man.”
“Leave the door open, man,” Sukuna warns mockingly in a sneer.
“She’s my-”
“She’s not. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“Go fuck yourself, Sukuna.” He rolls his eyes, pressing more of his weight against the door, but it’s nothing compared to the bulk Sukuna packs.
“Consider yourself lucky I’m not rearranging your face right now,” his deep eyes blaze as he leans closer to your ex, his words dangerously low. If ever Sukuna is thankful that he knows he’s a scary person, it’s right now as your ex flinches back and relents, leaving the door open and leaving Sukuna at the door.
Your ex disappears from Sukuna’s sight and he stands up straight, turning to the side as he stares at your bike. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still doesn’t love the prospect of you being alone with your ex for any period of time.
Sukuna especially hates how long it takes. He’s not sure how much you need to pack and he can’t make out whatever you’re talking about with your ex but each passing moment he grows less patient and less willing to wait outside.
Just as he’s thinking of stepping inside, he sees your tiny figure with a backpack and a suitcase, keys dangling from your fingers and your wallet held firmly in your hand. The relief on your face when you lock eyes with Sukuna is somewhat heartwarming, but what isn’t is the way your ex tries to grab your wrist as you make your way to the door.
You pull against him but his grip fastens.
Sukuna sees red. He sees red and he doesn’t think twice about stepping into what was once your house.
“Don’t touch her.”
Your eyes widen at the sight of Sukuna making his way towards you with gritted teeth. “No, no, no! Sukuna! It’s fine, I can handle this!” Your hand with your wallet and keys flies up as you maneuver yourself between him and your ex.
Your ex’s hand doesn’t loosen even when your arm physically blocks Sukuna from laying a beating on him.
You take a breath, looking between the two men. “I’m leaving. Please let go,” you say softly, so calmly it almost breaks Sukuna’s heart that your ex’s actions seem so normal to you.
“We aren’t done talking-”
“We are. I’ll be back for the rest of my things later.” You tug your wrist again, sending a pleading look to your ex, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go.”
“Y/n, please. Please, we can work this out.”
“Let go,” you tell him firmly, ignoring his words.
“Please-”
“I don’t know if you’re incapable of listening or if you just want your head bashed in, but I’d listen to her.” Sukuna’s voice is a warning, dripping with malevolence you’ve never heard from him before. His chest is pressed hard against your free hand and you aren’t sure you can hold him back much longer.
“Ryo,” you plead, looking between the two men as you try to pull your wrist again. Your ex’s hand twitches at Sukuna’s words before loosening and falling to his side. You breathe out a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bruising markings his fingers left behind.
“So he’s Ryo now, huh?”
You glare pointedly at your ex, knowing that one wrong word will have him with his face caved in.
Sukuna’s intense stare never once leaves your ex, but he does allow you to hand him your suitcase and gently tug his forearm to follow you out the door.
Your ex watches from the door as Sukuna follows you to your bike. His intent gaze has your hair standing on end but you choose to ignore the feeling in favor of hopping on your bike.
The sound of your bike roaring to life puts both you and Sukuna at ease and you ride down the driveway, stopping next to his bike. He jogs after you with your suitcase still in-hand.
Sukuna is quiet, which isn’t unusual for him but you can practically feel the anger coming off of him in droves like smoke. Kicking your bike’s stand out, you hop off and flip his Ducati’s storage compartment open, pulling out a couple of straps to secure your suitcase to the back of your bike.
“Ready?”
You pull your friend’s attention from your ex finally as your hand comes to rest on his bicep. His eyes travel from your face to your arm that rests on him, where he can see the way your wrist is reddened and sure to bruise.
Realizing the sight of your reddened arm has his jaw clenching with anger, you move it behind your back and out of sight.
“Kuna, please.”
His intense gaze examines yours as the breeze faintly ruffles his spiked hair. He’s completely still apart from the muscle working in his jaw as he thinks over his options at this moment, but his chest heaves as he sighs in exasperation and gives in.
“Whatever,” he growls, shooting a poisonous look back at the door that your ex hasn’t moved from. Sukuna haughtily pulls his helmet on over his head, flipping his visor down before getting on his bike and accelerating quickly.
Based on the way Sukuna weaves through traffic and carelessly speeds through lights, you know he’s furious. You pull your bike into the parking spot next to him a couple of minutes after he pulls in, finding him pacing in the parking garage.
Shutting off your bike and pulling off your helmet, you approach him with angled brows, trying to reassure him. “Thanks for coming with me, I appreciate it.” He’s blinded by rage and you’re not even sure if he hears you. “Kuna, I’m okay,” you insist, reaching out to put a hand on his arm but he still brushes past you.
Sighing, you unload your suitcase from the back of your bike and return the bungee cables to the storage compartment of the Ducati as you let Sukuna blow off some steam.
Once everything is ready to go up to Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to him.
“Can we go up to your place?”
“He hurt you,” Sukuna hisses with pupils the size of pinpricks. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know that anger was directed elsewhere.
“It’s nothing really, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Fucking asshole, I should have-”
“Nope, we’re not going into that. I don’t want to know what you think you should have done.”
You grab your suitcase and begin rolling it through the parkade to the elevator, relieved when you hear a frustrated grunt behind you and a pair of keys clinking. The ride up to his apartment is silent, shrouded in anger.
Really, you should be the angry one but if anything, you're more relieved. Relieved that you have someone like Sukuna to stay with, someone who’s so willing to come get you at three in the morning when you need him most.
Sukuna swings the door to his apartment open, slamming against the doorstop loudly before creaking shut. His hand flies to his pocket as he trudges across the apartment, tossing his leather jacket on the couch and leaning out the window as he lights a cigarette.
A puff of smoke leaves his mouth as he swings his head back with closed eyes.
Shaking your head, you decide not to give him a hard time for his bad habit and give him space as you busy yourself with setting the couch up nicely for yourself to sleep on given that you were now homeless, among other things.
Sukuna takes his time at the window, stubbing out his cigarette when it’s barely an inch long and finally approaching you from where you sit on the floor looking through your bag, taking inventory of what you have and what you’ll need to pick up eventually.
Your pretty face smiles up at him when his shadow blocks your view and he finds himself relaxing more from the sight of you than he had from the nicotine.
“Are you okay?” You tilt your head, noting that he seems more calm now and he nods.
“Should be askin’ you that.”
“I’m okay. I mean it,” you insist.
His eyes flicker down to your wrist again but he knows better than to doubt you and he knows you can handle the pain. Sitting down on the couch behind you, he leans back and watches you quietly.
“I got the things that were most important, but hopefully I can go back and grab everything else eventually,” you note, more to yourself than him. He still hums in acknowledgement. “Why’d you want my bike back so bad, by the way?”
Your friend leans forward on his knees. “So I can still go for rides with you.”
“What, do I make a bad backpack?” You tease with a grin that has Sukuna’s shoulders falling to his sides as his anger subsides completely.
“Hard to drive when you’re feelin’ me up, princess.”
Your lips purse as your cheeks redden, caught off-guard by his nonchalant smirk. You’d felt up his abs a bit during the ride to your old place, sure, but being called out still had the tips of your ears heating up.
You stubbornly avoid his gaze, going back to figuring out if you’d forgotten anything. Deep chuckles resonate from behind you as your new roommate ruffles your hair and gets to his feet.
“By the way we’re goin’ out tonight.”
You tilt your head, eyes following Sukuna as he saunters over to the fridge and pulls out an energy drink.
“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask curiously, not entirely sure you’re in the mood to go out.
“That new rom com movie or whatever that you wanted to see is showing tonight. I got tickets.” He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out your favorite beverage, tossing it to you.
You barely manage to catch it, mumbling a thank you. “I don’t really know if I’m up for it,” you admit, staring at the drink in your hands.
“I already bought the tickets,” he shrugs, laying back on the couch again. “Suck it up.”
Your nose wrinkles in distaste but you know it’s likely for the best that you’re out of the house so you do, in fact, suck it up.
It quickly becomes time for the movie and you find yourself back in the parking garage a couple of hours before sunset.
“Can you drive?”
“You gonna feel me up again?” Sukuna raises a brow at you, but a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.
“... Can I?”
Your confidence catches him off-guard and he blanches, his lips parting as he stares at you. His eyes flicker to your lips and that single action has your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. The fluttering in your stomach as you wait for him to react is enough to make you wretch and you consider yourself lucky that he seems to pull himself together as his lips tug upwards into a sly grin.
He takes a step forward, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t stray too low while I’m drivin’.”
You’re left choking on air as Sukuna’s tone sends a jolt of electricity straight up your spine, setting your entire body ablaze. Your eyes trail the length of his body, pausing as you watch him pull his leather jacket over his thin white shirt. The way his muscles ripple and tense with each movement has you swallowing hard as you realize just how built and toned he really is.
You’re thankful you aren’t caught and are spared from Sukuna’s teasing as you hop onto the back of his bike, purposefully making a show of feeling up his abs. Moving from his pecs, across the peaks and valleys of each set of muscles, down until you take pause as you feel the waist of his pants connect with the tips of your fingers.
Sukuna groans, looking over his shoulder before he puts on his helmet. “Not while I’m driving, got it?”
You nod at him, batting your eyelashes sweetly. He huffs, adjusting the crotch of his pants before pulling his helmet on. He waits for you to follow suit before pulling out of the parking garage and heading to the theater.
Sukuna’s warmth is both a beacon of hope and a searing flame to your skin. A comfort and an exciting new idea to explore. You hold onto him tightly, your body melting into his heat as he drives much more carefully with you hooked onto him than he had earlier in the day.
Sukuna pulls into a spot by the front door of the theater and waits for you to let go before hopping off of the bike himself.
“Popcorn?” He asks you mildly, hands in his pockets.
“Um, that’s alright.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I don’t need popcorn.”
“Don’t need or don’t want?”
You pause, your brow knit as you silently question what he means, but Sukuna’s seen this play out before with your ex and he wants to break this habit.
“Do you want popcorn, y/n?”
You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”
Sukuna nods, surprising you as he grabs not your forearm or bicep as he usually does, but your hand. His much larger, veiny hand folds over yours, his fingers tangling with yours. Your hand is so small in his and even the feeling of your hand against him feels like a reminder of just how cute you are to him.
Your cheeks are surely dusted in a red glow, but you don’t mind given the surprisingly pleasant eagerness in your chest.
With popcorn in-hand, Sukuna leads you into the theater, taking you to your seat and relaxing into the reclining chair. He lifts the arm rest between you, not once disconnecting your hands like it’s the most natural action in the world.
And in all honesty, it is. Everything with Sukuna is easy. It feels right. It feels right in a way you’re not familiar with and it’s exhilarating.
Given the cheesy scenario he set up for, you half-expect Sukuna to make a move during the movie, but his thumb simply continues to rub soothing lines over your knuckles.
It’s after the movie that he surprises you.
Bounding down the stairs ahead of Sukuna as you tug him along with you, you’re practically gushing about the movie that you’re positive he barely paid attention to. It isn’t his style of film but he doesn’t mind either way.
“-I mean come on, how can you not love Owen Wilson in that role?”
“Mm.”
“-and it’s so charming watching him start to learn and care about her world-”
“Mhmm.”
“-oh my god and when she realizes she loves him and she shows up at the tournament-”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Despite how little he has to say about the movie, he’s just happy you enjoyed it.
“-and when he gets her flooowers?-”
Sukuna chuckles as you continue to gush over the movie at him. Still hand-in-hand, he tugs you along, quietly listening to your rambles as he makes his way to his bike. His chest swirls with anticipation as you pay his actions no mind when he turns towards the storage compartment of his bike as you continue rambling on.
It takes only a moment for his hand to reach the delicate item he’s in search of, deftly wrapping two fingers around the dainty object. Keeping his hand behind him, he turns to you with a soft smile. Lidded eyes stare at you with mirth, an expression that isn’t typical for Sukuna, so your rambles begin to fade into silence as you tilt your head curiously at him.
“Flowers, hm?” He asks, pulling a beautiful, blooming red rose out from behind him. He holds it out to you, pulling you closer by the hand that’s still intertwined with his as you purse your lips in disbelief.
“I- I-” You stammer over your words as your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed on the gorgeous flower held in Sukuna’s fingers.
It’s almost a strange sight to behold- the same man you’d seen passed out on your couch dozens of times, the man you’d had to bail out of jail on more than one occasion, the same man who grumbled and complained every single time you went to Red’s Bar- now holding a dainty little rose for you.
“W- when did you even have time to get this?” You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. “Sukuna, this is so much I-”
His brows raise as your rambles begin again and although he’s flustered you more times than he can count over the years, he’s never seen you genuinely nervous like this.
“-you really didn’t have to do anything like this for me-”
“Y/n.”
“-taking me to the movies is already a big deal and I know the last day has been a hassle for you-”
“Y/n,” Sukuna chuckles this time, his grip on your hand tightening as he squeezes it in an effort to get your attention.
“-I didn’t get you anything, I don’t-”
“Y/n,” Sukuna leans down, capturing your lips against his. His lips are soft and the kiss is uncharacteristically sweet. His hand slides out of your grasp, sliding up your arm and coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He parts from your lips with a smirk. “Shut up, princess.”
You stare breathlessly at him, eyes flickering wildly between his eyes, his lips, before resting down on the rose again.
“Take the damn flower.”
“R-right!” You gingerly reach out, holding the stem as you bring it up to your nose. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”
“Well, someone had to,” it comes out as more of a grumble as his brow furrows, but his fingers curl into the skin of your waist as he speaks, betraying the meaning behind his words.
“Mhmm, someone.” You agree teasingly, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Kuna.” You rise up onto your tiptoes, resting a hand on his chest as you lean up to kiss him, just barely able to reach his jaw.
His chest vibrates in a content hum. “So short,” he mocks, tilting his head to meet your lips again. Pulling his other hand from his pocket, he pulls the flower from your fingers, setting it in the storage behind him and finding your waist to bring you flush against him.
Your hands slide up the length of his hard musculature until you find his neck. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at his nape and another hum slips from his lips, swallowed by your kiss.
He leans down to meet your height better as the kiss gains urgency, years of pent up emotions flooding from Sukuna’s every movement. His fingers curl into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.
“Kuna?”
He grunts into the kiss, smirking against your lips when he slides a hand from your waist down to your hips.
“Can we-” you breathe out between kisses, “-go home?”
Sukuna parts from your lips, examining your expression with blown pupils, so wide you can barely see the deep color of his irises. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling fast as he nods silently.
You let out a surprised squeal when he grabs you by the hips and effortlessly lifts you onto his bike.
“-can do it myself,” you insist but Sukuna doesn’t register your words, too caught up in the intoxication of your smell, your feel, your taste. He wants more.
Hopping on the bike in front of you, he waits for your helmet to be on before he starts his Ducati and throws his helmet on. Your hands take their place around his toned abdomen, sliding down without a moment’s thought.
“Behave,” Sukuna hisses loud enough that you hear him even over the sound of his bike’s engine. He doesn’t need your visor up to know you’re smiling innocently at him.
He clicks his tongue and speeds out of the parking lot back towards his apartment. Though he’s still more careful driving with his sweet little backpack clinging to him, you’re not oblivious to the fact that he is driving quicker than usual.
Relaxing against Sukuna’s toned back brings with it a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s strange, despite him speeding through traffic and the sparking tension between you both, it’s easy to close your eyes and relax against him.
It’s not a feeling you’ve had with your ex for a long time. Although you ignored the flags throughout your relationship and defended him when he didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t always that way, but Sukuna has always been a safe and worry-free escape from the world for you. Since the first day he drove into your life, since you first realized that Sukuna enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.
He’s a hard book to read and an easy presence to be in.
Your eyes flicker open, not realizing you’d grown so relaxed holding onto him that he’d already pulled into his parking spot, parking beside your Kawasaki.
Sukuna instinctively moves to get off his bike, expecting you to follow him, but pauses when you move rather sluggishly behind him. Pulling his helmet off, he shakes his head in an effort to fix his hair before he eyes you over his shoulder.
“You gonna get off?”
To anyone else, it might come across as aggressive, but his tone is mild as ever.
“Sorry, Kuna.”
You exhale and push off the bike with a hand resting on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. He watches you curiously, tucking you under his shoulder and leading the way back up to his apartment.
Pulling out his keys in the elevator, he ducks his head to get a good look at your expression.
“Tired?”
“No! … Well, yeah, but I was just relaxing,” you tell him and he hums, his eyes swirling with mirth. You cross an arm over your chest, your breast pressing against your arm. His eyes flicker to the sight, pupils dilating as he swallows hard. “See something you like, Sukuna?”
Your lidded eyes and purring voice has the taller man teetering on the edge of self control. His mind reels with thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the elevator and the moment the door opens, he’s making his way to his apartment like a man on a mission.
Desire pools between your thighs at his eagerness, made more apparent in the way he fumbles at the door with his keys.
It’s not even a second after the door is closed and he maneuvers you against the door, helmets on the ground as his fingers move to flip the lock behind you before they travel up the side of your body, admiring your curves before he cups your face.
He captures your lips, hungry to taste you again. He wants to devour you, he wants to mark you and make you his. Your lips move in tandem with his, matching his fervor with equal eagerness.
Your fingers rake his chest, thumbs sliding over the length of his collarbones. The feeling of his broad chest beneath your hands drives you crazy and you press back against him, your breasts pressing against the expanse of his chest.
“Kuna, wait,” you breathe, chest heaving as you part from him. Vermillion irises lock on you as he pulls back, his fingers gripping your waist almost bruisingly. “This isn't…” You pause, your mouth opening and closing hesitantly.
“Out with it,” Sukuna encourages hoarsely.
You shoot him a wry smile at his blunt impatience. “This isn’t just a hookup for me, you know.”
He raises a brow at you. “You think that’s what this is for me?” You might even assume he sounds offended.
“No! No,” you clarify, shaking your head as your pretty eyes go wide. He rolls his shoulders, leaning his face closer to yours as he intently watches you. “I just… I-” you pause again, avoiding his intense gaze.
“It’s not a one night stand, y/n.” Sukuna’s pupils shrink as he speaks solemnly. He feels you relax in his grip, your eyes coming up to meet his. “Relax n’ let me take care of you.”
Your cheeks redden at your best friend’s boldness and you shuffle as you press your thighs together.
“I better not be your rebound, y’know.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, the elbow holding him up against the door sliding down as his face grows closer to you. God, he’s tall. He’s tall and built like a monster, and between the size of his hands, his muscles, not to mention his height… Your wide, almost timid eyes flicker down to his crotch. He catches the action and smirks. “Don’t get nervous now,” he leers.
“I’m not!” You squeak, the blush spreading to the tips of your ears. “And… you’re not a rebound.” You grab his shirt collar as you pull him in for a kiss, much sweeter than the covetous one you’d shared a minute ago.
Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself relaxing into your touch when you slide your hands up his neck and into his dark, undyed undercut.
“I like you, Ryo.” You admit when you pull back just enough for the words to reach his ears. His smirk can be felt against your lips.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” In true Sukuna fashion, that’s his way of reciprocating your admission, because he doesn’t do feelings. But you know. You know exactly what he means.
You grin against his lips, giggling like a giddy school girl who’s just seen her crush smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles at your sudden timid delight.
“You’re such a loser,” he chuckles, his hand moving from your waist to hold your chin. He kisses you softly, your giggles persisting against his lips. Your fingers curl gleefully in his hair when he pulls back with impishly narrowed eyes. “You’re makin’ it hard to kiss you.”
“Sorry,” you chirp, your eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s just cute- you’re cute.”
“Me?” He pulls back, standing at his full height and making a point of showing off his broad shouldered stance. “Cute?” He tilts his head quizzically as if to prove a point but if anything, you find the strands of hair falling out of place over his forehead cute.
“Yeah, you.”
“I’ll show you cute,” he grumbles, and suddenly you’re lifted off the ground effortlessly. You shriek in surprise in his ear as you grasp at the back of his leather jacket. He mumbles something about you being a brat before dumping you on the couch and crawling over your body.
His form looms over you and you’re both suddenly very aware of the immense size difference between you both, something which might be one of Sukuna’s favorite things. He loves how tiny you are, how easily he can handle you.
Sukuna takes pause, his usually dour gaze filled with longing, admiring what he’d wanted for so long as you stare back at him with wide eyes. He loves the fiery attitude you always sport, but this flustered side of you is new to him and he drinks it in like a drug.
Your chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from his arms that cage you in, down the expanse of his chest that peeks through his V-neck, back up to that alluring tattooed face. His sharp jaw, his ever-present smirk, his intense stare, it’s all so goddamn sexy and you’re flustered to silence like a deer in the headlights being hunted by a wolf.
“Funny, you seem to have lost your bark,” he comments tantalizingly, dipping down to kiss your jaw. Now with your body trapped beneath him, he feels the way your hips twitch. “What happened to the brat from earlier?”
You swallow down a moan as his voice sets you ablaze. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, fingers gripping him tightly. You take a breath to readjust and bat your lashes up at him as you push through the sudden nerves that seem to chase you. “Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuna.”
Sukuna grins, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “There she is,” he hums, bringing himself down to his elbows to kiss you wholly. His lips move urgently against yours, tongue swiping your lower lip almost immediately. He groans when you grant him access by parting your lips, drinking in your taste. You gasp in surprise as his tongue piercing grazes your tongue, a strangely pleasurable new feeling.
Your hands slide from his biceps up his neck, keeping him close, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. When you shift beneath him to clench your thighs as heat pools in your lower abdomen, he groans.
“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth, catching you by surprise when he nips your lower lip. He pulls back for only a moment but in that split second the look on your best friend’s face tells you everything you need to know. You’re his prey, and he’s about to devour you.
“Kuna-!” You gasp in surprise when kisses down the side of your neck, leaving behind purple bruises as he sucks and nips at the side of your neck. Reaching the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, his teeth graze your skin before gently sinking in, testing the waters with a glance at your face.
You whine, squirming beneath him.
Sukuna withdraws with a smirk, running his tongue soothingly over the reddened skin. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling his hips against you so roughly you whimper. “Shit,” he mumbles and returns to his ministrations, his hips rolling against yours like a dog in heat.
“Sh-shut up, Kuna…” you groan, rutting your hips up into him. His movement stutters with pleasure and he nips your skin again in response. “Darlin’, hold onto me,” his husky voice commands against the skin of your ear.
“Hm? Ah-!”
Sukuna slides a muscular arm beneath the small of your back, pressing you to him and urging your arms to cling to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, holding your small frame to him in one arm.
He carries you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as you press kisses to his collarbone, leaving behind marks of your own. He hums, plopping you down onto the bed and standing to shrug his jacket off and unbuckle his belt, letting it and his jeans drop to the floor.
You’re sure your face is red as a tomato, pupils dilated as you admire his body, your gaze landing on the boner that’s pulling the fabric of his black Calvin Klein boxers taut. You swipe your tongue out over your lips, bringing your lower lip between your teeth.
Your best friend grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You let out a surprised gasp, gripping at the sheets at either side of you.
“G’nna take my time n’ treat her right,” he purrs, falling over you as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He could be talking about you or your pussy, it doesn’t matter either way.
He lifts your shirt up over your head and you arch your back to make it easier. You’re so pliant for him and he adores your obedience, adores the desperate, lustful look in your eyes.
“Shit, girl,” he mumbles, his eyes eating you alive on the spot as he admires your body. You’re so small in comparison to the way his figure looms over you.
Catching your gaze, he squeezes one of your breasts, slipping the other from the fabric of your lace bra to press the warm flat of his tongue to your nipple. You jolt as pleasure buzzes through your body, moaning when he sucks the hardened bud between his lips. The cool metal of his piercing intensifies the pleasure when it grazes your skin and causes goosebumps to raise on your arms.
Your hands find his hair, tugging enough that Sukuna smirks against the plush of your skin.
“So needy,” he hums. Your thighs clench around his waist as the vibration of his voice against your skin rocks through you.
Your lidded eyes stare down at him and you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off. He complies, tossing it across the room. His heavily tattooed chest, abdomen, arms- he’s gorgeous and you can barely believe he’s standing over you right now, eyes for only you.
“Kuna,” you mumble between moans, jerking as he flicks your nipple with a smug grin.
He mutters out a ‘what’ before sinking his teeth into your breast. You gasp, eyes widening and bucking your hips against him as your head swings back into the mattress. As you arch your back for him, Sukuna deftly slips your bra off.
“Stop being a tease,” you plead, the hard length of his cock twitching against your core as you tighten your legs.
“A tease? What do you want then, hm?” His voice is cocky, knowing. He wants you on your knees begging.
“Kunaaaa,” you groan, laying the back of your arm across your eyes, suddenly timid.
Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling your arm away from your face. He grabs your other arm and holds them both down above you with one large hand. “What do you want, brat?” His face is inches away from yours now and he rolls his hips against your core teasingly despite the ache he feels.
“I-” you pant, pausing to look at his intense stare. “Wan’ you to eat me out.”
“Yeah?” He hums, lowering his head so that his lips brush yours. “Thought you had manners?”
“Please, Kuna,” you beg in a whiny voice. Sukuna smirks, getting to his knees at the edge of the bed and draping his arm over your hips to hold them down as he sprawls your legs out before him.
“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he groans, his breath warm against the fabric of your panties. He wastes no time hooking his fingers through the fabric to pull them aside. His digits brush your folds as you buck your hips in a desperate attempt at friction.
Chuckling softly, Sukuna languidly licks up your cunt, savoring your taste with the slow movement. You squirm beneath him, raking your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips towards his tongue.
“Patience,” Sukuna hums and flicks his tongue out to circle your clit. His piercing grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes go wide with pleasure.
“Such a- hah- asshole- ah-!” Sukuna doesn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he pushes his long tongue into your dripping chasm, your walls clenching around the muscle in ecstasy.
Sukuna groans as your fingers tug his hair. He lets you buck your hips into his mouth and ride his face, relishing in the sound of your moans and pants.
The feeling of his tongue inside you is already so intense that when he brings a thumb up to flick your clit, the sudden desire that pulses through your body straight to the knot tightening in your core has you bucking your hips in surprise. His grip on your hips fastens as he holds you down again, keeping you from squirming out of his grasp.
The desire and heat pooling in your core quickly grow in intensity as Sukuna’s experienced tongue plunges through your folds, drinking up your arousal.
“K-Kuna- I- I’m gonna-” your words are mere babbles as you try to speak through the bliss, your orgasm steadily approaching.
“Let me taste it, princess.”
The feeling of his voice with his tongue within you, the way his piercing suddenly flicks your gummy walls, his thumb on your clit, the way he calls you princess, it’s so much that your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, causing your body to jolt and jerk against the mattress.
Sukuna’s thumb leaves your clit as he holds down one of your thighs to keep you from crushing his head as you moan and pant out his name while your body spasms. He slows his ministrations to drink every last drop of your orgasm before flicking your clit with his tongue one last time, pleased when you jolt.
He pushes himself up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.
“Shit, you’re hot,” he mutters. You barely have a moment to come down from your high before he’s pulling you to the floor by your waist, dropping you on your knees. His hungry expression and throbbing cock tell you everything you need to know as you look up at him through your lashes.
Your fingers curl around the waist of his boxers as you pull them down his thighs. His rock-hard erection slaps against his abs as you free it from the confines of the fabric. Sure, Sukuna is a monster of a man at nearly seven feet tall of solid muscle mass and you’d felt him grinding against you, but your eyes still widen at the sight of his cock.
You feel your mouth water as you stare at the angry red tip, veins protruding and pulsing with desire on either side.
“Think you can take it?” He asks and although it’s a teasing and husky tone he uses with you, he is genuinely asking as well. You nod eagerly and he grins. “Good girl,” he purrs.
Bringing a hand up to his cock, you wrap your fingers daintily around the thick base, looking up at those glimmering vermillion eyes as you run your tongue from base to tip, eliciting a heavy groan from the man.
“Christ,” he groans, his head flying back in pleasure. You smirk and take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit before teasingly pulling back with a pop!
His hips shudder as he does everything in his power to stop himself from using your mouth, to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat with no warning.
“Needy, Ryo?”
You don’t expect the way that sets him off, lights his desire ablaze anew as he fists your hair and leans down with a clenched jaw to look you in the eyes.
You whimper in surprise, closing your thighs from where you sit on your knees as your cunt pulses from the way he handles you so roughly.
“Let’s get it straight right now which of us is needy,” he growls with a smirk, eyeing the way you shift your thighs. “You gonna be a good little slut for me?”
You nod up at him, pupils dilating as he tugs your hair. He grins, narrowing his eyes. “Words, woman.”
“Yes, Kuna,” you purr back at him. The wild look in his eyes intensifies as he receives your consent and pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. His jaw goes slack in pleasure as you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up his precum.
“Shit,” he groans out, watching as you take his cock without breaking eye contact while he thrusts further into your mouth. You gag when he reaches the back of your throat, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes and you shut them as you take his length. “Ah ah, look at me. Takin’ me so well.”
Sukuna knows you can’t take his entire cock in your mouth, he knows there’s a fairly large size difference between the both of you. It doesn’t stop the way he pushes your head down on his cock watching the way tears run down your cheeks as you so obediently let him handle you.
Saliva runs down the length of his cock and you bring a hand up to the base, pumping what you can’t fit in your throat. His hand pulls your mouth off his cock, adjusting his hand to hold your head back against the bed so that he can relentlessly fuck into you, massive cock hitting the back of your throat and gagging you with each thrust.
He throws his head back as you pump the base of his shaft while he fucks you, being his perfect little doll. His abs flex and twitch when your muscles tense as you swallow around him.
“Such a nasty fuckin’ throat.” He barely gives you any time to breathe as his pace increases, along with the pace of your hand to match. His chest heaves as he moans, letting you dig your nails into his thigh for purchase while he uses your throat.
His cock twitches as you moan when he hits the back of your throat and his eyes shut tight with pleasure, jaw going slack. When he jolts again with the next thrust, you know he’s close so you hum contentedly, sending vibrations up his shaft and causing his hips to jerk erratically as he chases his high.
“F-fuck,” he groans out before his hips stutter and your eyes widen when his cum unloads down your throat, thick ropes of salty sweet arousal swallowed as he keeps himself warm within your mouth. You move your lips slowly around his girth, milking every last drop of his orgasm. You pull back after a moment to allow yourself a chance to breathe, panting as you stare up at him.
His chest heaves and his cock twitches every few seconds, telling of the orgasm he’s just had. Still, his eyes burn with desire when he finally opens them.
He reaches down to pick you up and sets you at the edge of the bed on all fours roughly.
He squeezes your ass before slapping it once. Your body jolts in surprise as you gasp.
“Princess, you on any birth control?”
“Mhmm, you can go raw.”
You hear him mumble a curse beneath his breath. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he tells you, catching the way you glance over your shoulder at him and nod.
In spite of the rough way he uses and handles you, he’s still very attentive to your pleasure and comfort.
He pays no mind to the fact that you actually liked the panties you’re wearing as he physically tears them off of your body, tossing the ripped fabric aside. You whine in complaint, shooting him a look from over your shoulder.
“I’ll buy ya new ones,” he huffs, returning his attention to your body.
Squeezing your ass in both palms, he leans down and buries his face in your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. He hums at how wet you still are, moving a hand up your spine to hold you down and keep you arched for him.
His teeth sink into the plump of your ass and you squeak at the sudden burst of pain that quickly twists to pleasure when he soothingly laps over the mark he’s left.
He slides his hand down from squeezing your plump ass to glide a finger through your lubricated folds. You lean into his touch, gasping when he suddenly plunges one long finger into your lubricated pussy.
Your walls are tight as they pulse around his long finger. He eases another digit in, pumping them slowly as he realizes just how tight you are.
“Relax, darlin’,” he hums soothingly, curling his fingers against your walls a couple of times before he finds your g spot. His voice is such a stark contrast to his rough tendencies, but it’s soothing to have him so worried for your comfort.
“Ryo, f-fuck-” you moan out as his fingers languidly curl against your gummy walls which gradually relax against his long fingers. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing around nothing and craving his touch as you shift your hips in search of friction with a whine.
Sukuna grunts when he lines himself up with your plump cunt, pumping himself a couple of times before he slowly eases his tip into you. Your eyes widen at the delicious burn of the stretch, fingers curling in the sheets as you adjust to his massive size. And god this is only the tip.
You cry out, the feeling of his girthy cock filling you up blurring your vision as the pain transitions to pleasure before the process begins all over again with each movement he makes. His cock throbs, making you feel impossibly full.
Sukuna wants to ruin you, he wants to tear you apart on his cock, but he doesn’t want to hurt his sweet little best friend, so he watches the way your face contorts in mild pain, waiting for your expression to relax as he slowly feeds you his cock, inch by inch.
“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” Sukuna purrs, his thumb stroking your back in contrast to the fact that he’s still holding you down and keeping you arched for him.
His cock head brushes your cervix, pressing against it as he bottoms out, fingers curling against your back at how tight you’re squeezing him as he waits for you to adjust.
Your shoulders relax beneath his touch and you whimper as he slides his cock out to the tip, setting a moderate pace so as not to shock you. The feeling of his thick, veiny cock is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, his size just so much to take that you moan and whine with each thrust of his cock into your tight hole.
You grip at the sheets beneath you, gasping as Sukuna speeds up his thrusts and presses you hard into the mattress, muffling your moans.
“Kuna- mmph,” you let out a muffled whimper, jolting when he slaps your ass roughly, no longer holding back.
“F-fuckin’- shit-” he groans, his fingers gripping your skin bruisingly as he holds you in place. He leans forward, sliding his hand from your back to your neck, restricting your airflow subtly. Pleasure tears through your spine as he leans forward and pushes in deeper with each thrust, pulling moans and screams of his name from deep in your throat.
“K-Kuna, I’m- hah- close,” you whimper, words muffled by the sheets beneath you. He loosens his fingers from your neck, grabbing your waist with both hands as he pulls your ass closer to him, pounding into you faster as he chases his own high.
“Shit, y’r such a good lil slut for me,” he groans, feeling your walls tighten around his thick length with each thrust.
Pleasure tightens deep within your core, knotting and curling as he fucks you so deliciously that your juices are already dripping from your cunt around his hilt. His eyes lock on the sight and he throws his head back in pleasure, his own high not far behind.
With one last hit against your cervix, your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before as your entire body shakes and jolts, your knees and legs giving out.
If Sukuna wasn’t holding you up, you surely would have collapsed as stars cloud your vision and you moan his name like a mantra. Your eyes are glossy and your mind delirious as he continues to fuck you through your high, your walls milking him in a way that has him quickly climbing towards his release.
With only a few more erratic thrusts that have you whining under him in overstimulation, his cock twitches suddenly as his entire load fills you up, mixing with your juices and dripping out of your swollen lips down your thighs that Sukuna is still holding up.
He moans as he slowly lets your body go and you sink to the mattress, panting beneath him as his cock slips from between your thighs. His eyes flicker to your pretty pussy, his cum leaking out with each pulse of your walls. His chest heaves as well as he slowly gets to his feet and walks to the side of the bed, sliding up against the headboard.
Sukuna pulls your body up from where you’ve collapsed, wrapping his arms around you as his sweat-slicked skin sticks to yours. He’s much gentler now, looking you over for any signs that he might have hurt you accidentally, but when you finally open your eyes, they’re glossy with pleasure and filled with adoration.
He can’t help the way he genuinely smiles, not a common thing for the tepid biker, but when you grin and giggle in return, it makes his heart jump.
He practically turns to putty in your hands and as you silently bask in the afterglow of the best sex of your life and lean into Sukuna’s embrace.
“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” He asks after a moment and you’re surprised by the way his fingers softly graze your skin.
“You were great Kuna, don’t worry,” you answer, yawning afterwards.
He hums in relief, leaning his head back for a moment before taking it upon himself to get you cleaned up before you pass out. Grabbing a towel, he wipes your thighs and tosses the towel in a hamper at the edge of the room before pulling the covers over your figure and crawling in behind you.
“Ryo?”
Sukuna hums quizzically.
“Do I get to know how long now?”
“You’re a brat,” he growls in your ear as he pulls you flush against his chest, his arms folded around your middle.
“Yeah yeah, just answer the question,” you grouse, rolling your eyes. You have an inkling of a feeling that you know when he realized his feelings for you, but you’re curious nonetheless.
He sighs, knowing you’ll never let him live this down. “Dunno. It’s been a while,” he avoids the question.
You flip in his arms to face him with raised brows. He groans, avoiding your gaze.
“I guess around the time you got with your ex,” he admits, his eyes locked on the wall behind you as he tucks your head under his chin to avoid your intent gaze.
“Is that why you stopped seeing people?”
“You noticed?”
“Kuna, you had a new girl under your arm every time I saw you for a while.”
He grunts, pulling you tighter to his body.
Giggling, you kiss his collar bone. “That’s sweet.”
Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as he lets out a long sigh. You can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up as you tease him, something that you’d only managed a handful of times in all the years you’ve known him.
“Sorry, am I embarrassing the big bad motorcycling bad boy?” You push, squeaking in protest as Sukuna wastes no time in shoving you away from him in an attempt to push you off the bed. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” You insist, looking to him for mercy as you cling to his arms, clutching desperately at the flexed muscles.
“And?”
“And…” you search for the words he’s looking to hear in his eyes, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t do it again?”
“And?”
“I’m sorry I ate the rest of your leftovers this morning?”
His brow furrows. Oh shit.
“I mean… no I didn’t. They’re still there,” you mumble, avoiding his judgemental gaze guiltily.
Sukuna’s hold on your shoulder begins to lax as you teeter at the edge of the bed, threatening to drop you to the floor. You scramble to try to grip him tighter.
“I’ll buy you new food!”
Sukuna sighs and drags you back to him. You let out a relieved puff of air against his chest, snuggling back into his warmth. “Jus’ wanted you to say when it was for you.”
You tilt your head up at him, only able to see his chin. “When what was?”
“You know. When you realized what you think of me or whatever.” Sukuna’s gruff tone is telling that he isn’t used to such sincere conversations. Although you’ve known him a long time and he’d told you about damn near every sexual encounter he’s had, Sukuna’s most record-breaking relationship was a shocking three months.
Of course, Sukuna isn’t a romantic, and she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was putting in effort, so it didn’t last long.
“Oh. When I realized I like you?”
He grunts.
You hum in thought, moments throughout your friendship scrolling through your mind like a slideshow.
Of course, your forefront thought is when Sukuna first stepped off that stupidly well taken care of Ducati and surprised you when he managed to not only get you home on a running bike, but let you buy him a drink. He’s always been ridiculously attractive, but no, those weren’t feelings.
You think of all the times you hung out with friends and they would point out his change in behavior. You’d always think on the statement, watch the way that aloof look of his turns mild when he faces you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.
You ponder on the time you’d called him on a whim early in your friendship when your date had bailed on you. Sukuna did not want to see the cheesy romance movie you had tickets for, but he’d sucked it up and shown up. You’d offered to buy him dinner as a thank you, but he paid regardless. It was the kind of thing a real date would do, but he’d complained so much you brushed the thought away.
When you were entirely too obsessed with Game of Thrones and insisted he be your king in a big fur cloak for Halloween, maybe then something had changed.
“You want me to be some guy from the show you like?” He’d grumbled and guffawed over having to dress up at all, insisting he’d been planning to put in minimal effort.
“Pleaaase, Kuna?” You were practically on your knees by the time he’d agreed with a roll of his eyes. “You’d make a good Robb Stark,” you insist before second-guessing yourself. “Well, if he was grumpy and kind of a dick.” You shrug, grinning up at him as he shoots you a begrudging look through narrowed eyes.
It only takes you a few days to put together the costume given the abundance of medieval king and knight costumes around.
His arms cross over his rugged chest, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut by the movement. “You can’t be serious.” He stares at the tight faux leather coat you hand him with a scowl.
“He wears something similar!”
“I’m not wearing this.”
“Please, you said you would!” You pout at him as you sport your best puppy dog eyes.
“No.”
You jut your bottom lip out, taking a step towards him as you shove the leather top to his chest. His eyes narrow, gears turning in his head until he shuts his eyes, giving in.
Your eyes light up as he pulls the top from you, groaning as he pulls it on over his shirt. It’s tight on him, which you expected given Sukuna’s sheer size, but it’s a strangely hot look on your rugged best friend. Even more so when he lets you drape the cape over his shoulders and set a cute little crown on his head.
“No, absolutely not,” he hisses, slapping your hand away when you try to clip the crown in place with a bobby pin.
“You’re such a pain,” you tease as you try again, holding an extra pin between your teeth.
Standing back, you admire your work as you receive a very unamused look in return. Sukuna’s build makes for a very kingly stature in spite of the contrasting tattoos and it makes him hot. In fact, you’re half afraid someone will whisk him away at the Halloween party given how nicely he’s cleaned up.
Your lips twitch downwards at the thought. You don’t want him to be whisked away. You want your king by your side.
“So?”
Snapping you from your thoughts, your eyes light up again. “You look great,” you tell him with a grin. His eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize.
He hums, examining your expression. “Well, go get ready then. Gonna sweat through all this leather n’ shit.”
“Oh like you aren’t used to leather,” you roll your eyes, but you oblige, getting your matching Talisa Stark outfit on.
When you return to Sukuna sitting on his couch, you muster your best impression of your character. “My king?”
Your best friend’s attention turns to you, eyes widening as you approach him in a floor-length queen’s gown with a matching gray cloak and a crown pinned into your hair. “Shit, y’ look good,” he breathes out.
Your cheeks heat up and you scratch at the back of your neck. “Thanks, Kuna.” You clear your throat and your mind to the best of your ability as you offer him a hand. “Ready?”
He hums, taking your hand before grabbing his keys and offering you his arm. “My queen?”
You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the first spark. The first real spark. As he loosened up throughout the night and repetitively called you his princess, you knew you were spent. Each and every time he used the name had you giggling up a storm and while you’d brushed it off as intoxication at the time, you knew the truth deep down.
So when he’d returned to his aloof self the following morning, you swallowed down your feelings.
You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend and he didn’t have a good track record with relationships. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared, even now.
“Halloween,” you utter finally, unsure of just how long you’ve been silently contemplating an answer in his arms.
“Figures,” his chest rumbles in brief laughter.
“You knew?”
“Nah, thought it was the alcohol.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. That’s why I started dating other people.”
Sukuna doesn’t respond but he buries his face into the crown of your head, drinking in your warmth, your intoxicating scent, and your soft skin against his as he closes his eyes.
No more other people, you’re his.
“Was it me callin’ you my princess?” He asks of the night you realized you’d caught feelings.
“That, and you make a good Robb Stark.”
He snorts. “I remember being told I was a dick.”
You shrug, smiling against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t retract that statement.”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head and warmth spreads through your body as you relax against him, eyes closing as exhaustion spreads across you like a warm blanket. You know the kiss is a sassy retort, but it shamelessly works on you.
“Fine. I retract my statement.”
“That’s my princess.”
–
“Can you stop moving so much?”
Unsurprisingly, Sukuna’s got an attitude today and he absolutely plans on making it your problem as he huffs.
Your gloved hands work carefully to thoroughly cover every last strand of his short hair with dye. You know very well the only reason he’s being such a menace today is because you’d suggested a change in color and he’s afraid it’ll look bad.
In all your years of knowing him, he’s always had the same pink hair, so you were thrilled he was allowing you the honor of dying it back to its original color, black. You’d actually insisted on orange or red, but black was the only thing he was willing to compromise on.
You make your way back around him and find his scowling face looking up at you. Covering the last few strands of hair over his forehead, you boldly sit on his lap.
His demeanor changes in an instant as you straddle him and his hands eagerly find your hips and begin roaming up your waist and back down to your thighs. You shoot him a warning glance as you accidentally smudge some black dye on his forehead, but he pays you no mind as he continues his ministrations.
“Kuna,” you warn sternly, trying to wipe off the black marking before it leaves a stain, but it’s too late. You sigh and look over your work.
“Just a quickie, c’mon,” he insists with a grin.
“I don’t want to be covered in black dye,” you retort and Sukuna groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “How long do I gotta wait?”
“Thirty minutes.”
He frowns, eyes following your movements as you pull off your gloves and throw them in the trash of your shared apartment. He can’t for the life of him tear his eyes from you as you proceed to wash your hands before grabbing a damp towelette to wipe at his forehead.
Suddenly feeling like a child as you take care of the marking on his forehead, he swats at your hand.
“You’re a menace,” you mutter, avoiding his hand with practiced precision as you wipe away any traces of hair dye from his face.
He smirks, he likes the way you tease him and if anything it only makes him want to bend you over the table more.
Still, when you pull back to inspect his face and leave a gentle peck on his lips, he knows you don’t mind his attitude.
You know it’s all a ruse of sorts. Not around others, but around you it is.
Dating him for so many years came with its fair share of complications, especially given that Sukuna’s communication skills were about as good as those of a rock. He often didn’t pick up on small signs that you were bothered by things and vice versa, as he’s a tough book to read.
Regardless of any small arguments, nothing ever got out of hand surprisingly. You can’t imagine your life if Sukuna hadn’t shown up to get you the night your ex kicked you out. What Sukuna lacked in the department of emotional understanding, he made up for with his actions.
Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.
Each and every ‘I love you’ is met with a kiss, a squeeze of your arm, a tug towards him.
Sukuna has his own way of showing you he loves you.
He picks you up from work with flowers, shocking those around you when the grumpy-looking tattooed man hands you flowers that surely won’t make it home in great condition on his bike, but it doesn’t matter.
He runs you a bath when he fucks you into oblivion and your legs give out. It may be his own hand that inflicted your weakness, but it doesn’t matter because he shows you just how much he cares for you through his aftercare routine.
He makes your coffee with far too much milk and sugar for his own taste and complains about it the whole time, but it doesn’t matter because he still does it every morning for you.
Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.
When it comes time to wash his hair, he closes his eyes when you help him wash it in the sink. Your fingers move so delicately, taking care to wash out all the dye.
When he dries his hair with a towel and sees the way you delight at the sight of his freshly jet-black hair, he chuckles.
“Why do you never grow your hair out?” You ask, running your hands through his spiked hair. The color suits him and brings out his eyes in the most stunning way, you’re sure you have stars in your eyes from the way you’re staring at him.
“Dunno. The other color looks good,” he shrugs.
“It does!” You agree with a grin, “but so does this!” You insist. “It’s hot.”
He hums, looking himself over in the mirror. In truth, he doesn’t mind it. He only really indulged you because you’d insisted, but it worked out given what he had in mind for the night. It would look good in photos.
“When is Shiu getting here?” You ask curiously, interrupting Sukuna’s thoughts as your short arms wrap around his middle from behind.
“Hour from now.”
You gasp suddenly. “I need to clean up.”
“I can clean you up,” Sukuna smirks, lifting his arms in an attempt to see your face from where you stand behind him.
“Kunaaa,” you whine. “I need time to get ready.”
He groans dramatically. “Fine,” he grumbles, watching as you prance away happily to get ready.
You, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Shiu, and Uraume were all going out in celebration of Toji’s newest addition to his family, a young boy. It was surprising that he was the first to settle down, but when you’d met his wife, you could see that she was his world, the way he relaxed at her touch and his own edge calmed in the same way Sukuna’s does around you.
Sukuna lays on his bed, watching as you choose a gorgeous black dress that hugs your curves so delectably that he wants to tear it off of you then and there. The whole time, he fumbles with something in his pocket, grateful when you don’t notice the small box accidentally fall from his grasp and onto the bed.
You chat with him about your work the whole time. Sukuna’s mind is elsewhere but given that he’s never all that chatty, you don’t notice. Looking yourself over in the mirror, you let out a relieved breath when you manage to be ready with only a couple of minutes to spare.
“Y’ look gorgeous.” Sultry words are whispered in your ear, followed up by a kiss to your neck as your boyfriend comes up behind you. His hands rest softly on your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, bending down to your height.
You watch his actions from the mirror, the way his lidded eyes look over the curves of your figure, the way he slides his arms so delicately around your middle to envelop you in a tight hug, it’s these moments that you treasure the most.
The quiet moments where you simply enjoy one another’s presence.
Your lives are so busy that you don’t always get time to yourselves, so melting into his arms in that moment, you wish it would last forever.
Of course forever is a long time, and Shiu certainly doesn’t have the patience to wait in his car that long for you both. You’re not entirely sure why Sukuna doesn’t want to take your bikes, but you don’t push the subject. Your boyfriend’s mind is a mysterious place.
Your group gathers at a restaurant that’s a bit fancy for everyone’s tastes, but Uraume had insisted on it given the occasion. The real surprise was that Sukuna had dressed up a bit as well, sporting a sleek black pair of slacks, a black long sleeve button-up, and a red tie. His ensemble went well with your black dress.
Over the years, Sukuna’s friends had become your friends, long before you started dating, even.
Choso and Yuji were like your little brothers, and Uraume and Toji your closest drinking buddies. They got along surprisingly well with your friends too, especially Choso and Yuji who, unlike Sukuna, seemed to have a talent for getting along with everyone. Shiu generally only tagged along when Toji was around, but their banter was always welcome.
As Toji shows off photos of his son Megumi alongside his daughter Tsumiki, you notice Sukuna whispering something to Choso, casting oddly uneasy glances in your direction. Frowning, you glance over yourself once as though there’s something wrong with your outfit. No… it looks fine. So what’s Sukuna being so secretive about?
You brush it off as nothing, sure you’re overthinking things… until he pulls Toji aside after the man finishes showing off photos of his son.
You tilt your head quizzically to Uraume as you lean over towards them, ensuring Sukuna can’t hear you.
“Is Kuna acting weird to you?”
“Yes,” Uraume follows your gaze, narrowing their eyes. “Perhaps he misses Toji?”
“Are we talking about the same person?” A small smirk quirks up the corners of your lips.
Uraume laughs lightly with you. “You’re right,” they agree, but the thought doesn’t leave your mind.
It’s not like Sukuna doesn’t have off days like everyone else, but this is a strange change of demeanor for him. He seems strangely fidgety, as though he can’t sit still. His leg had bounced under the table throughout most of dinner and he was strangely eager to get the bill.
He had been horny all day, the best guess you have is that maybe it’s that and he wants to get home.
Still, it doesn’t explain him being so secretive throughout the night. In fact, he’d barely spoken a lick to you. Which isn’t entirely uncommon, but in place of words he would normally find comfort in your touch. Yet tonight it felt as though you’d hardly seen him despite sitting next to him most of the night.
You resort to asking him about it later, though an uneasy feeling tugs at you the more you notice it.
You’re almost grateful the dinner is over when it is as you intertwine your fingers with Sukuna like nothing is wrong. Shiu leads the way across the expanse of grass by the restaurant to his car one lot over, chatting with Toji as you and your boyfriend trail behind.
With Choso and Uraume a short distance behind you, you figure now is as good of a time to ask as any.
“Is everything alright, baby?” You tilt your head to look at your boyfriend.
Something glimmers in his eyes, an emotion you don’t recognize. That’s odd.
“‘Course.”
Well, that’s not reassuring.
“Okay… Nothing’s wrong?”
He shoots you a small smirk, kissing the top of your head.
“Nothin’s wrong, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
You sigh, unable to help the feeling that he has something up his sleeve, but also able to recognize that whatever he’s plotting, he clearly has no intention of telling you. Regardless, you’re relieved that his nonchalant attitude seems to have returned. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about after all.
You miss the way he glances between the two groups, nodding to both as you sigh and give in.
“Alright, Kuna. I love you.”
Sukuna stops to face you and you blink at him perplexedly. Time seems to stand still as his chest rises and falls so quickly, he’s sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he fumbles in his pocket for a moment.
You open your mouth to question him but your words die on your tongue when your boyfriend swallows hard before making a quick movement down onto one knee and your eyes go wide, your heart pounding in tandem with his.
It’s just the two of you in that moment, all sounds drowned out by beating hearts, lights and movement a blur behind you both. Everything is just Sukuna. Just you.
“Y/n,” he begins hoarsely. His voice shakes slightly and he curses himself for it but he doesn’t dare look away from your gorgeous wide eyes.
Your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. It feels as though it could choke you and you swallow hard but it only seems to encourage the tears you had yet to notice welling in your eyes.
“I had this whole speech planned,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Practiced n’ everything.”
You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you bring one up to your mouth to suppress your shock and awe when he pulls out a small red velvet box.
“But I don’t think that shit's for me. So I decided to keep it simple.”
Nestled delicately within the box is a gorgeous silver ring with a beautiful diamond held delicately in the center. The ring splits into three separate parts just before the gem that all twist with smaller jewels around the metal.
“Marry me?”
Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.
From the way he holds you to the way he listens and kisses you between words. From the way he brings you lunch at work when you forget to the way he drives more carefully when you’re cuddled behind him on his bike.
Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.
And you love him too.
“Yes!”
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❦ a/n ; please follow/like/reblog/share if you enjoyed ♡
writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight and © cafekitsune.
#dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/adornedwithlight & art by @/too-many-owls#starmapz works#starmapz oneshot#starmapz#oneshot#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#ryomen sukuna oneshot#sukuna oneshot#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#jjk smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut
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The pains of being human
Summary: You're dealing with period related misfortunes, and you feel vulnerable... mostly because you reached a point where you had to share your predicament with someone you trusted (?).
Characters: Deuce, Floyd, Lilia and GN!Reader (separate, vague)
Warnings: mentions of menstrual products, food, medicine; discussions of periods and related symptoms (such as: bleeding, cramps, nausea, mood swings.)
By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
You were in your dorm room, stuck in a real predicament: not stocking up on your menstrual products, and leaving the room to buy yourself some seemed too risky, fearing you might get a stain and embarass yourself in front of the whole school
It wasn't a very likely situation, but the anxiety was not worth it, so you relied the first person you were close enough with to help you out: Deuce
You shot him a simple text
"i am on my period, can you buy me some products? i'll pay you back when you get here"
and expected an awkward but supportive reply, since teenage boys and periods can be like oil and water sometimes or demons and cruxes...
But the text you received in return was... mildly surprising.
"yeah sure. pads? tampons?"
"what size do you need?"
"anything else you need? painkillers? something sweet?"
You even double checked the number to make sure you didn't text anyone else
He even knew about sizes! And he thought about painkillers! You were more and more touched with each message coming through
And, with the proper instructions, Deuce was on his way to Sam's
He was not embarassed for even a second: he was there on a mission, and he accomplished it successfully without any missteps
...Well, except of his little delay, caused by a pair of nosy boys, who received their proper threats from Deuce for interrupting his mission with their toxic masculinity
He knocked at your door, and for a second he was expecting his mother to open the door; after all, she was the only one he has ever bought these things for before you
You gratefully welcomed him in, waddling your way back to your bed as you inspected the bag he brought you
"Thank you, Deuce. You're a livesaver... How much did everything cost you?"
Deuce saw the tired look on your face, the heavy lids that indicated a lack of proper sleep, and he shook his head
"It's on me this time."
You scoffed, knowing Deuce was also on a budget; as much of a sweetheart and an honors student he was, Deuce deserved to be rewarded
"...I wanna think of a compromise, but my brain is too tired right now."
You groaned, closing your eyes as you rested them for a few seconds
Deuce shook his head at you again and clicked his tongue in fond exasperation
He wanted to be nice and offer you an out, but you were dead set on being nice to him...
"...A latte."
You opened your eyes, looking at Deuce in confusion
"I'm sorry?"
"I want a latte. One of those fancy ones from that café in town. When you're done with the, uh... bear week."
A small snort escaped you as you gave Deuce an amused look
"Bear week? Not shark week?"
Deuce's eyes widened slightly, and he looked away as his cheeks grew warmer
"...Mom never called it that. She always said that fighting a bear is more likely to happen than fighting a shark... and that it sounds cooler."
You nodded, feeling very inclined to agree with his mom, and decided to steal that phrase
You were very relieved to have someone as reliable as Deuce near you, and despite the fact that Deuce wasn't the most diligent person, he always made sure to carry one of your preffered products with him at all times
No matter what kind of teases he received from anyone for it, he knew he was showing a level of care not many would
And while helping you... he was helping himself
He was still dealing with the guilt of being so embarassed when his own mom sent him to buy pads; he couldn't help his mom with such a simple thing even after everything she's done
But he can be more careful this time... more appreciative
『••✎••』
The moment Floyd spotted you in the hallways was when things went downhill: Floyd didn't really bring sunshine and rainbows around with himself
By that point you were used to his shenanigans, but you still gave some interesting reactions
A gasp, a swat to his hand... but never tears
He wouldn't have yelled in your ear if he knew you'd burst into tears: he wasn't in the mood to deal with the aftermath
But he quickly put two and two together, seeing the way you were frozen on the spot, almost trying to pick between scolding him and saying something else
Unbeknownst to Floyd, you were simply trying to get back to your dorm after noticing a pretty sizeable stain on your pants from your period
And the anxiety from trying to go unnoticed put you on edge, making your reaction to Floyd so much worse
"...Please just get me out of here."
Your small plea came after a tense silence, in which Floyd was reading your expression with an almost uninterested look
But he still hoisted you over his shoulder without any hesitation, much to your embarassment
"Floyd...! Not like this, put me down!"
"Eh~? You're so hard to please, little discus!"
Floyd did not put you down, of course
It was causing a bit of a scene, so you decided that, in the end, you'll take whatever got you to your dorm room the fastest
"Alright, fine...! Just get me to my dorm then!"
"Boooring! Why can't we go somewhere more fun?"
Floyd complained while going in the direction of your dorm
"Because I'm not in the mood for fun, Floyd! I..."
Your cheeks turned red, realising you almost revealed something too personal
To your surprise, Floyd didn't point it out; he just pouted as he walked towards your dorm
You reached your dorm room soon thanks to Floyd's long legs, and you were able to change into fresh clothes, easing your anxiety and making you feel like crying from relief
Until you realised Floyd was still in your room, even after you told him you'd be having no fun together today
He looked you up and down, his face betraying his confusion
"Now can you tell me why you were smelling like blood? Did anyone do something? Do I get to deliver a revenge plan and squeeze some aquarium fish?"
Floyd's almost sadistic delivery did not phase you at all, and all you were thinking was that of course Floyd noticed
You had no other option but to explain
"I just... got a blood stain from my, uh... my period..."
Silence.
"...What do classes have to do with that?"
Your eyes widened as you came to a horrifying conclusion: Floyd couldn't know what period were, because he was a merman
You saw your short life flash before your eyes in horror at the prospect of having to explain periods to a teenager... when Floyd just burst into laughter
"Oh, you actually believe that! You are so funny!"
Much to your relief, Floyd's confusion was just a prank; he figured you had your period before you even said anything
He revealed that he took classes about humans, their customs and anatomy when he first decided to come on land
And he also dodged the pillows you threw at him with practiced ease
It was the last time you even talked about it: neither of you brough it up again, and you didn't know how to feel about it
On one hand, you were relieved, but on the other hand, you expected Floyd of all people to ask questions and be all annoying about it
But Floyd didn't really care about things like that
In fact, he found your periods hilarious: your mood swins in particular were funny, and he almost enjoyed making things that you could digest
And he would never admit it, but he felt proud when you seemed to feel a bit better after he helped you during your period
『••✎••』
Every once in a while, you found yourself being enveloped in a hug from behind from the old bat
He would either hand you a piece of homemade chocolate by him or some cute trinket he thought sould cheer you up
Lilia was a very cute individual, and he was surprisingly affectionate for someone who was definitely a teenager and not a retired war veteran attending highschool, so you never questioned it
...until you found Lilia wrapping his jacket around your torso gingerly from behind
"...There we go. Not too tight?"
His cute, softer voice vibrated through your back as he still was glued to you
"It's... not, but why did you..."
"Oh, haven't you heard? Jackets wrapped around waists are the latest fad! It's cool and chic!"
You didn't argue with him on it, especially after you tried to untie the jacket from your waist and were blocked by Lilia, who was still holding you from behind
The proximity was getting to you, and you felt your cheeks flushing, your knees growing a bit weak, your stomach doing flips-
Wait, no. That wasn't butterflies in your stomach, that was a sharp pain from... lower
As you put two and two together, Lilia started walking you down the hallway into a secluded classroom, his hand around your waist and making you two look as casual and unassuming as always
The moment Lilia closed the door of the abandoned classroom, you his your face in your hands from embarassment
"Oh, my god... This can't be happening to me..."
The tone in your voice betrayed how mortified you felt, but was glad that you had this realisation away from prying eyes
You didn't even realise the leak, since you were already using products, and it already felt like you leaked blood all the time...
Lilia only chucked at your realisation
"Khee hee... Someone was a bit caught off guard today, huh?"
Your pathetic whimper was the only answer Lilia received, and his eyes sparkled with mirth
He still brought out his magical pen and waved it gently in the air, muttering something under his breath
"Take that jacket off and turn around for me?"
You did as he instructed, but only because you felt more... dry, all of a sudden
Lilia hummed in delight as he saw the spot being gone, his spell working
"Good. No more damning evidence... Now all you gotta do is go on your merry way."
You sighed in relief and slipped onto an empty chair, letting the small rollercoaster of emotions settle down within you
Lilia was nothing short of a lifesaver, and he handled the situation with so much grace that it left you speechless
When you asked about it, he just laughed
"I'm no stranger to blood."
That was all he said... Not ominous at all /s
Still, you were very grateful at the way Lilia handled everything
Since then, he started being even more doting on you whenever you were in your period
He was almost... motherly in a way
And for some reason, the idea of Lilia as a parental figure didn't seem too far fetched...
He always was on the lookout for any other accidents and even tried talking you into trying the reusable alternatives for your products
What surprised no one was when he became even more eager to supplement you with nutritional food whenever you were low on energy
And so much more disappointed when your nausea made his food somehow even worse to be around
『••✎••』
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst x reader#deuce spade#floyd leech#lilia vanrouge#twisted wonderland x reader#deuce spade x reader#floyd leech x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader
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Black Lace and Trouble All Over Your Face 🔞
summary: A black lace underwear vs a lust-driven Sylus.
or
He may or may not have seen a peek of what you wore beneath your dress.
word count: 2.5k tags: NSFW, sylus x reader (afab), no plot just filth, oral sex, cunnilingus, clit play, swearing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, squirting and ejaculation, overstimulation, choking, blowjobs, slight fluff, panty kink (?), deepthroating, pet names, nipple play, established relationship, creampie, degradation fish notes: please and PLEASE heed the tags oki !! only read if ur comfy but yes anyways i decided to share my smutty sylus fic here too ^__^ forgive me if it's a lil rusty, i haven't wrote in awhile T__T ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ song recs: guess by charli xcx
She honestly didn’t know how it even came to this point. From trying on an innocent dress to now, laying and spreading out before the most fearful man in the whole N109 Zone. And yet, Sylus finds her the prettiest like this — flustered and bewildered. The dress she was trying on hiked up a bit, showing off her bare, smooth legs.
Sylus could no longer ignore the gnawing primal hunger he feels towards her. It was torturous, having to hold back his desires and maintain a facade of nonchalance when all he wanted was to ravage her and make her feel like she’s on top of the world.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at him. Red eyes swirling with multitude of thoughts. “W- what are you doing…?” She asked, slightly confused, yet mildly curious. Of course, she knew what he was thinking about it, she’s not entirely dumb.
Sylus traced her jaw ever so softly. “Don’t play coy with me, kitten. You knew what you were doing wearing this dress.”
Well, it wasn’t really a revealing dress per se, it’s just that… she was in the middle of picking up her phone that had dropped to the floor when he walked in on her. Bent down and revealing a peek of what’s underneath her cute little dress. Sylus briefly caught a glimpse of a black lace underwear, but he couldn’t be too sure. He needed to see it for himself to confirm his suspicions.
If only Sylus hadn’t come home at this exact moment, then maybe she wouldn’t have been in this exact predicament. Not that she’s complaining much but she is more or less a little bit surprised that it took Sylus longer than she anticipated to make a move. For someone so bold with his adoration towards her, he is awfully slow when it comes to voicing out his inner desires. Perhaps this train of thought goes way deeper and… dirtier than it seemed.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just trying on a cute dress I had just bought online. It’s not my fault you saw my underwear. You should’ve knocked before you entered anyways.” She spoke, trying to remain casual and calm but only he knows how fast her composure is slipping the more she is pinned beneath him.
He only smirked, as he wasn’t particularly phased or bothered by it. The tent on his pants says otherwise though. He really is curious to know what lies beneath her dress. For once, he’ll let go of his pride and bite the bullet. After all, he couldn’t resist her, no matter how hard he tried. She’s the only one that can conquer the depths of his heart.
“Well then… care to satiate my curiosity then? Or is my kitten too shy to admit that she wears such a pretty little thing underneath her clothes everyday...”
A blush crept on her face even more. “O- of course not everyday!” She looked away, too embarrassed that she may have worn it because she had also bought it along with the dress. It seemed like her wishful thinking came true after all. Now that Sylus has her trapped and nowhere to go, she could only let herself go.
“Why don’t you take a guess then? What do you think I’m wearing, hm?”
Sylus stared at her, amused by her sudden bold question. “You want me to guess, huh, darling?” He leaned down to gently bite her earlobe, sending tingles everywhere down her body. He whispered hotly in her ear, “I think it’s black and lace. Am I right, sweetie?”
At this point, she was still surprised at how she’s even holding up. She merely croaked out a flustered, “yes” before Sylus smirked and went lower to kiss and bite her neck, leaving a trail of hickeys that would be visible to everyone tomorrow. She could only let out whimpers and moans at his ministrations.
“Sy- sylus! Please…” She begged as he continued to tease her. He pulled back slightly, “What do you want baby?”
With no hesitation, she said breathlessly, “I want you.”
Red eyes gleamed dangerously as his usual smirk tugged at his lips. “As you wish, princess.” In a swift motion, he took the dress she was wearing and tossed it somewhere on the floor. Normally, she’d be a little pissed but now, she couldn’t care less.
Not when Sylus is marveling at the underwear she’s wearing. A black lace, almost see-through underwear with pink bows on it. It should be a crime on how it ridiculously made him salivate at the sight before him.
“Like what you see?” She bit her lip shyly, observing his expression carefully.
“Like it is not even a word for it, sweetie.” His fingers went up to expertly take off her bra, leaving her breasts exposed. He grasped both of them before pinching her nipples, eliciting a moan out of her. Sylus closed the distance between them and kissed her hungrily, addicted to the way she tasted as he played with her tits. He pulled away and gazed at her with a wild look in his eyes, “I am going to devour you.” Was what he said before his lips enclosed on the nipple, feeling it hardened as he continued to twirl with the neglected bud.
Pure ecstasy ran through her body. She can feel herself getting even more wet the more Sylus continued to suck and lick her nipples. He watched her carefully as he trailed kisses along her soft skin, igniting all sorts of butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
She squirmed beneath his watchful eyes, “Sy… please. Don’t tease me.” She pleaded, her tone was sweet and desperate. A deep chuckle was all she heard before Sylus slowly moved down to stare at her sopping wet panty. He smirked, finding this amusing, “Already so wet for me, kitten?” He prodded at her soaked underwear, pressing down on her clit.
At the sounds of her whimpers, Sylus continued to rub her clit through her underwear. Edging her closer to release but the moment she arched her back and curled her toes, Sylus stops. Unable to control herself any longer, she begged, “Please… I want you. I’ll be good, I swear.”
“Really? Then I shall reward my good girl, hm?” Sylus pulled aside her cute lace underwear, staring in fascination and adoration at her dripping cunt. “Your pretty pink pussy is so eager for me, sweetie.” She blushed, seemingly having a hard time to grasp on his crude, yet blunt words.
Without giving her a chance to dwell on it, Sylus begins to lick her pussy. All she could do was lay back and let out a string of moans– overwhelmed by the pleasure. Ruby eyes gazed at her intensely as he continued to expertly suck on her drooling cunt.
“Haaa..! Ah! Fuck–! It feels so good, Sy…” She moaned out his name and it sounded like heaven to his ears. He hummed, skillfully tonguing her pussy with vigor, aching to witness her orgasm. The tent in his pants is becoming awfully hard, he longed to see her on her knees and choking on his cock. The more she mewls and cries, the faster Sylus laps at her eager cunt.
Her fingers find their way to grasp and pull on Sylus’s soft hair, a plethora of moans and whimpers choked out of her throat as she feels herself reaching her climax. “Ah! Sylus, Sylus! Fuck, I’m so close!” A wave of euphoria washed over her as she came undone on Sylus’s sinful mouth.
“That’s my good girl.” He spoke lowly as he licked his lips, she felt herself flush at the sight of his face wet with her juices. Just when she thought it was over, her underwear was pulled down and tossed to the side, revealing her dripping wet pussy. Her cunt clenched around his digits, sliding in and out of her gummy walls with ease.
“Argh…! Sylus… put it in me. I want it. I want your cock.” She whimpered and who was Sylus to deny his slutty girl what she wanted. “Relax, kitten. Let me see how much you can squirt for me.” She bit her lip, hard as he continued to finger her, casually inserting three fingers at once.
He chuckled, “My… someone’s insatiable. Can’t get enough, hm? Such a dirty whore for me.” She could only moan out in response as Sylus sped up, ramming in her cunt like there’s no tomorrow. The room was surrounded by her cries of pleasure and wet squelching sounds, courtesy of her desperate pussy.
Curses and whimpers elicited out of her throat, her cunt spasming against his skillful fingers. Sylus curled his fingers and that’s when she saw stars, coming once more for him. “So… so… good…” She said breathlessly, seemingly in a daze.
Sylus brushed a strand of hair out of her face, drenched in sweat as she stared back at him. Her eyes are unfocused and filled with desire. “Does my slutty kitten want my cock?” He leaned down and began to litter bite marks at her thighs. Sylus loved this, claiming her as his own. Letting everyone know that she belongs to him and him only.
She whined, her hands reaching out to grip on his shirt. “Want it, Sy… please. I’ve been so good…”
He lets her unbutton his shirt, her fingers are itching to feel his skin against hers, while Sylus removed his pants, speeding up the process. Without wasting any time, Sylus stroked his hardened shaft, letting out breathy moans. His gaze remained on her, laying beneath him. “C’mon sweetie, open up.” He said as he guided his cock to her parted lips.
She lets out a whine, swallowing him whole. Sylus was way too big to even fit in her mouth but the more he trained her, the more she became accustomed to it. “What a good cockslut.” He praised her, his fingers tugging onto her messy hair.
Eager to please, she began to bob her head around his shaft while he roughly throatfucks her. Saliva trickled down her chin but all she could think about was him. Sylus is truly the definition of perfect.
The sight of him in bliss and in pleasure turns her on way more than she’d like to admit. Feeling strangely motivated by the looks of his face, she quickened her pace, wanting, no, she needs his cum.
“Ah… yeah, just like that, kitten. Fuck, you’re so good at this. You like sucking my cock, huh?” He stroked her hair as she gazed up at him, nodding. Unable to resist any longer, Sylus grips her hair, and she lets herself be used just like a toy. “You dirty little whore, so good at pleasing me. Fuck, I’m close!” He thrusted inside her hot mouth before finally reaching his high.
As soon as he came, she hummed in satisfaction. Pulling back, she stuck out her tongue and showed him before swallowing. Sylus’s eyes glowed, he’s hungry for more. In an instant, he grabbed her throat, “You pretty little thing, I’m going to ruin you.”
She braced herself when she felt the tip of his cock slowly push inside her dripping cunt. Once he finally slid all the way in, he let out a moan. “Your pussy is so needy. It’s gripping me so hard, sweetie.” She could only arch her back as her fingers scramble to grab the sheets.
Feeling herself clenching tightly around his shaft, she whimpered, “Move… Sylus, please, I need you hard and fast.”
The usual smirk appeared on his handsome face, “As you wish, my slut.” Was what he said before ruthlessly pounding into her with an inhumane pace. His name falls out of her lips like a prayer – a mantra as she feels her pussy drooling and becoming wetter with each thrust.
“Scream for me. Say my name.” His hand gripped her throat, “Say it, you dumb slut.”
She had no choice but to obey his demands. With a choked voice, she screamed out, “Sylus! Sylus! Fuuuuck! Feels so good– ah! Right there, right there!”
He could only admire her as he thrusted deep into her sweet spot. Watching his lover make such lewd expressions makes him feel a swell of pride, knowing that only he could do that. No one else.
He lets go of her throat, thick fingers coming down to rub and flick at her clit. “Cum on my cock, whore.”
The world turned white as soon as she reached her orgasm. Sylus continued to ram into her before coming deep in her tight cunt. He pulled out, staring in fascination as cum dribbled out of her used pussy.
“You did so well, kitten.” He said softly, caressing her cheek as she nodded dumbly, too out of it. Sylus could only smile, knowing that she is still in a state of euphoria. He leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead, “Let me take care of you, my precious.”
The next morning, she woke up feeling sore and satisfied. To her disappointment, Sylus was nowhere to be seen. She frowned as she sat up in bed, maybe he has work? She thought to herself before getting out and walking to the bathroom.
Bite marks and hickies scattered across her skin as she observed her disheveled state in the mirror. She blushed as she recalled their intense activity last night. After she had finished washing her face and brushing her teeth, she walked out and was surprised to see Sylus in bed with a tray of breakfast.
“Good morning, sweetie.” He said, his eyes softening at her appearance.
Her feet instantly moved to sit beside him, “Sylus, did you make this?” She pointed to the fluffy pancakes and a cup of coffee. A smile crept on her face once she realized that the pancakes were shaped like hearts.
“Of course. I dismissed the chef for today. Wanted to pamper you for being so good to me last night.”
If it wasn’t possible, she felt herself falling for this man more and more. She smiled brightly at him, “Thank you, this is lovely.”
He returned her smile with his own, “Anything for you, my sweet.”
The couple enjoyed their morning with breakfast in bed and cuddles. When Sylus was feeding her, he suddenly asked, “Where did you get that underwear from?”
She raised a brow, “I ordered it online. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Very. Next time you want to buy something, put it on my card.” He said casually.
A hint of surprise etched on her face, “Oh? Okay then.”
Over the course of a few days, she finds new packages arrived at her doorstep. No doubt the work of Sylus when she shook her hand and sighs as she held up the new lace panty that he had ordered for her.
There was a note at the end of the package, it wrote, “Wear this for tonight.”
She could only smile as she knew she would be in for a treat once more.
#love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#qin che#lads sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deep space#sylus qin#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#l&ds#lnds smut#sylus#sylus smut#love and deepspace sylus#lads#lnds sylus#lnd sylus#l&ds smut
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Is That A Promise? (Venom One-Shot)
Eddie Brock x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged
Summary: Telling you about Venom does not go entirely how Eddie planned.
CW: mentions of monster fucking, Eddie is oblivious and a dumbass (I think I have a type)
Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
You’d known Eddie Brock a good while by this point. You’d started dating him a while back, and while he put others on edge, you’d found the way he talked to himself out loud rather charming, actually.
At first, you weren’t sure if he was just unmedicated, or undiagnosed. But then the news broke about the symbiote, and then there was the footage. And when Eddie started coming home right after news broke of some other attack or taking out of a bad guy or criminal or whoever, you’d put two and two together.
It was kind of hard not to. Particularly as his conversations with himself could vary from topic to topic in the span of six words or less.
Eddie had asked to meet up for lunch today at your favourite restaurant. He’d seemed a bit off on the phone, and given how prone you were to anxiety, your immediate thought had been that he was breaking up with you and that you’d done something to upset him or his bodily guest- who you did not officially know about, of course.
You’d gotten there early to prepare yourself for whatever shitshow was about to follow and to your immense surprise, Eddie had shown up pretty much right after you. Eddie was always running late, so this change in pace was also mildly concerning. You were not sure how this was going to go and you did not like that one bit.
“You’re here early, too,” Eddie had said, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact. You nodded, and cleared your throat, gesturing for him to sit down at the table opposite you.
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we had a spot,” you replied, smoothing down your shirt. Bit of a nervous habit. That and ripping at your nails, but that was beside the point.
“Right,” Eddie replied.
And then the two of you lapsed into silence. You spent a good five to ten minutes appearing to read over the menu as if this wasn’t a regular spot for you and you didn’t know exactly what you were going to order. In fact, you’d be surprised if the cooks weren’t already making it up for you even though a waiter hadn’t come over yet.
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed quietly. You peered over the menu to eye him curiously, one brow arced in question.
“I didn’t say anything, Eddie.”
“Yeah, I know. I- uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed, and put the menu down to give him your attention.
“About me shutting up?”
“No- God, this is not going at all like I planned.” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.
You said nothing, waiting patiently for him to work out his wording.
“I really like you,” he started, and you nodded, replying with the same sentiment. “And, well, there’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”
“Right…” This is where you expected him to tell you he was married (doubtful but not impossible) or had cancer or something terrible. Dear God, please no.
“Look- you’ve seen on the news, yes, the, uh- the attacks. Yeah?”
You nod. Ah, so he was finally telling you about his friend living literally rent-free in his body. Okay, you could relax a little.
“He’s me. Venom, he lives in my body. He’s in my head. Like, all the time. Right now.”
Eddie looked at the table where he was picking at the tablecloth. You were silent for a second, and Eddie clearly took that to mean you were horrified or disgusted or something. You were a little nervous about it, sure, but you’d also been living with him for the last few months. If Venom was planning to take you out, he would have done so by now, surely. You figured this to mean you were safe enough. You’d also seen your fair share of monster porn, so you weren’t exactly unkeen on the idea of dating someone who sometimes had a monster body. It was kind of hot, actually. You shook the thought out of your head and tried to focus.
“Oh, yeah- I knew about that,” you replied, and the way Eddie’s head snapped towards you was almost comical.
“You what?”
“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”
Eddie blinked, and a black residue appeared on the back of his hand. It swirled and gathered on his hand before reaching for you delicately. You met it, brushing your finger over it softly. The goop (for lack of a better word) seemed to shiver pleasurably and you smiled.
“Can I meet him later?”
Eddie nodded, watching the interaction with disbelief. He’d thought that you’d go running and screaming through the doors or something, not be rubbing your fingers over Venom like you were fingering some Play-Doh.
“Y-yeah, later,” he agreed. “Not here. When we get home.”
You grinned and the black substance retreated back into Eddie’s skin as a waiter appeared by your table.
“What can I get for you? The regular?”
You looked at Eddie and clicked your tongue thoughtfully.
“The usual with a serving of chicken nuggets on the side, please.”
The waiter nodded, scribbled it own on his pad and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie looked at you in question. He knew you weren’t big on nuggets.
“They’re for Venom,” you explained, propping your head up on your palm. Eddie looked to the side as if listening to something carefully.
“Venom says thank you-” Eddie said before cutting himself as Venom said something else in his head. “No, I’m not saying that. No. No.”
“Say what?”
Eddie sighed defeatedly- something you think he did a lot when it came to Venom.
“Venom said he could kiss you right now.” Eddie looked mortified as the words left his mouth. You burst into laughter.
“Is that a threat or a promise? I hope it’s a promise,” you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at the two of them.
Eddie swallowed thickly and blushed as Venom said something else. You’d have to see if Venom could swap hosts sometime. It would be nice to have a conversation while out and about like that.
“Promise,” Eddie replied.
Good.
#A/N: my first Venom work! EEEE- keen to write more for these two#eddie brock x reader#eddie brock imagine#eddie brock scenario#eddie brock oneshot#eddie brock one-shot#eddie brock one shot#eddie brock headcanon#eddie brock headcanons#eddie brock hc#eddie brock hcs#eddie brock fanfiction#eddie brock fanfic#eddie brock fic#eddie brock x you#eddie brock x y/n#eddie brock blurb#eddie brock drabble#eddie brock dialogue#venom x reader#venom x you#venom x y/n#venom fanfiction#venom oneshot#venom imagine#venom drabble#venom blurb#veddie x reader#veddie#tom hardy
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Hey lovie - I'm having a little brain rot and I had to get this out but what about the 141 boys arriving home to their sweet lil reader who's become a sex crazed monster cos they're ovulating? Like the boys have the cycle app downloaded so they KNOW how they are but they were not prepared for the level of horny they're coming home to.
(sorry if this is rambly)
oooo. i love this. :3
cw: pure horny, price is an old man (lovingly), fem!gn!reader
ghost is mildly surprised. he knows you get extremely horny when you ovulate, but this.. os a new level. you practically pounce at him when he walks through that door, he catches you in a tight hug, dropping his bag. After whispering some sweet 'I missed you's he can feel your teeth on his neck, before the heat radiating off your cunt reaches his body, eyes widening slightly. "needy, are we?" he hums softly, earning himself a harsh bite. "fuck- christ, love.." he muttered, cock twitching in his pants as he carries you into bed, definitely prepared to fuck you out for a good while.
Gaz is a sweetheart, the tight hug you trap him in is another reminder of just how much he missed you while he was gone. he kisses your head and cups your face, looking down at you, just to see you eye him hungrily. the looks would make him uncomfortable if it was from anyone but you; but you made his cock twitch with it. "y'need something darlin'?" he teases quietly, grin playing across his lips as you practically pull him into the bedroom - or the nearest surface at this point - ready to take whatever he can give you.
Soap is a horny fuck, just like you are. he loves when you ovulate, knowing he gets to have hours of fun if he wants, hours of playing with you and making you feel good. however this time is a whole new level, even for him. he stumbles back when you immediately attack him, pressing your lips against his and your tongue into his mouth. "missed y'so much.." you practically growl against his skin, hands quickly opening his pants without giving him much time to think. fuck, if you let him he'll take you right there against the front door.
Price is a bit slower to take on it, he knows how you are when you ovulate, barely able to hold up due to his age. don't get me wrong, he can definitely fuck the attitude out of you when he needs (or wants) to, but this one? he's in over his head and he knows it when you pounce on him as he gets through the door. lips all over him along with your hands, he chuckles. "careful lovie, let me get home, yea?" he hums, pushing you off gently. he definitely does take it to the bedroom in a second, giving you his all and then some. more than happy to have you ride him when he's too exhausted to rut into you anymore.
#cod#cod mwii#cod mw2#call of duty#gothghostiie#ask ghostiie#kyle garrick#gaz#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price#John price x reader#price x reader#price#ghost#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#John mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap#john mactavish#john soap mactavish
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the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎。˚⋆ 𓋼
summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.
tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories
notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!
"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"
Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?
As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.
If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.
"Senpai, what should-"
Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.
"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"
"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.
"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.
"I think I'll have him die."
Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.
Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?
Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.
"So you're Yuuji's executioner."
Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."
"Who're you?"
Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-
You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."
A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.
"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.
"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"
You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"
"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."
You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.
No. No!
He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.
"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.
As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-
I can't lose anyone else.
You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.
With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.
Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.
"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"
While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.
"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"
Special Grade?
What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."
You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.
Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.
He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.
Did you miss him like he missed you?
The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.
Will you forgive him?
You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.
"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.
"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.
"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.
"Promise?"
"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.
The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.
"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."
Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.
"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"
Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.
"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"
"Senpai!"
Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?
"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"
Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"
Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."
With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"
Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."
You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."
The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."
You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.
"I promised you, didn't I?"
Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.
"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.
"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.
"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."
The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."
"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"
Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."
As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.
"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."
#haerinwrites#jjk x reader#jjk x reader angst#jjk x reader fluff#jjk angst#jjk fluff#yuta x reader#yuuta x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#i'm actually maki with the fucking finally#i love friends to lovers !!
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NRC FIRST-YEARS ── as school romances
You've convinced yourself that ACE TRAPPOLA has only gotten into the esteemed Night Raven College by some form of nepotism alone, never mind the fact that students are picked out by the magic mirror rather than a board of directors. He's far too lax in his studies and spends half the time in class playing Papa's Pizzeria and the other half bothering you, much to your misfortune. Unfortunately, even the teachers (who are ever so aware of his carefree nature) cannot do anything about him. No, his parents haven't reached out to them with a bribe to let Ace pass his classes. Yes, he's scored higher than you even though the closest you've seen him studying is him sleeping on his textbook. Believe me, they're just as irked as you are. He's not an outstanding student like Riddle or Azul by any means, but he gets by well enough. You think he does have the capability to score higher in the student leaderboard; unfortunately, Ace seems more content with passing you notes and sending you pictures of your focused expression ("l-o-l, nerd spotted," he types) in the middle of class.
Ever the opposite of his partner in crime (never willingly), DEUCE SPADE has all the motivation to becoming an academic weapon, only to become an academic victim when he sits down for the first midterm. He's certainly not lacking in effort or motivation, everyone knows this; he's just a little… slow. There's no other way to put it, really. You do feel bad; sitting next to him in class lets you see his notes which are, albeit messy, as detailed and concise as can be. He genuinely does enjoy learning when he finally gets ahold of the concept he's supposed to be studying, but the journey to that point is hard and miserable, even for you when you watch him. Perhaps that's why you take up the noble affair of tutoring him… as best as you can, really. You're still a student, after all, and by no means an academic weapon. But Deuce seems to think you are, all bright-eyed and eager whenever you come by the Heartslabyul dormitory or the spot in the library that had somewhere along the lines began to be known as "yours". Whether that makes your heart flutter, you can't really bring yourself to admit with your hectic schedule── but perhaps during school break, you'll give "this" a proper shot.
Your relationship with JACK HOWL had a rocky start, as all random classmates who are coincidentally paired up in every single project do. He was by no means a terrible partner or even a mildly annoying person; no, Jack was, in fact, endlessly polite and mindful of your boundaries, not to mention an efficient student and, by extension, the best project partner when it came to actually getting the work done. The awkward nature of your early relationship was based solely on the fact that neither of you had known each other prior to your first ever project, and for good reason. You shared no common interests, belonged to different dormitories and social circles─ the list went on. So imagine your surprise when your friend rushes to you, red in the face as they tell you about the Jack Howl's crush on you. You almost don't believe it, not until Jack approaches you himself the next day, an odd flush to his cheeks and his friends' colourful heads rustling about in the bushes behind him. Good-looking, he calls you, alongside other simple and sweet adjectives that should not make your heart sing as much as it does. He asks to spend more time with you, to know you better in such a way that is so considerate it nearly brings you to tears. In the end, how could you have said no?
EPEL FELMIER is a daydream in velvet, with the big blue eyes and cherubic expression of every ingenue; the object of a knight in shining armour's affections, the sort of person other guys would climb up a tower for or slay a fire-breathing dragon. This is how you've known him, though you yourself have never participated in the word of mouth of these rumours, simply a bystander. It is not until you first meet Epel when he is without his sweet, doe-eyed facade that you realise the rumours are far from the truth. He curses like a sailor when you practically barrel into him in the middle of the hallway, sending papers flying and the two of you careening towards the floor almost cartoonishly, and you discover how those pretty features of his can just as easily contort into a nasty scowl that would make any 5 year-old cry. You also learn that Epel has just as much little regard for his torn dorm uniform as he has distaste for being nagged at by his dorm leader, and that he is quick-witted in all the wrong ways, seeing you as an escape route. One thing leads to another, and you find yourself playing hooky with the last person you ever thought capable of such a thing─ perhaps the first of many occasions, though you don't quite know this yet.
SEBEK ZIGVOLT is loud. You don’t know him well enough to say that he means nothing bad by it, but you aren’t so chummy that you’d say it isn’t a bother either. Still, the volume of his voice never posed much of an issue to you until your final examination week. Sebek, had he known you earlier, might have blamed your poor time management, but that could have done nothing to change the fact that you were in cognitive overload from trying to jam a whole term’s worth of lessons and lectures into your head on the night before your exams. Capable as he is as Malleus’ vassal, he has no idea what to do when you burst into tears and begin wailing in the middle of the corridor. Of course, his first action is attempt to get you to stop crying, which is essentially not synonymous with actually comforting you; nevertheless, he doesn't directly tell you to shut up and tries to pat your back (albeit a little roughly), so you suppose he deserves some credit. You sniffle, too sleep-deprived and upset to register that you've begun to release all your recent frustrations to poor Sebek── or that he's pulled you to the side of the empty corridor, and now he's just crouching down next to you awkwardly as you ramble on. You find that he's a good listener, and capable of a surprising gentleness when he shares some of his own struggles with you. It's a night not so easily forgotten── and the following morning is the same for your friends when they see the notorious Sebek Zigvolt speaking quietly with you at the door of the exam hall, his ears tinted pink as he stiffly wishes you luck on your exam.
#twisted wonderland#twst#ace trappola#deuce spade#jack howl#epel felmier#sebek zigvolt#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#jack howl x reader#epel felmier x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader
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A Human's Touch
Mr Gap x Reader
(Anything in bold is other world language)
It had been a while now since you had returned to the other world. It was hard to tell time here, but at least you knew that this was where you belonged. It was almost laughable to think that you once tried to leave this place.
You would never admit it, but you really owed a lot to the shit eating grin that always manages to pop up whenever you need him. Even now, with you life no longer in constant peril, he pops up somewhere nearby quite often. It could be from the crack of your closet, inside your bag, or a random hole in the wall that you swear wasn't there before. As annoying as Mr Gap was, he was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He would even bring you things from the human world if you asked. For a price, of course.
You sigh as your "friend" holds one of your favorite books from the human world just out of reach. He was playing his favorite game again.
"Give leg." He demanded.
"Give foot." Was your counter offer. Most of your body parts would grow back, but it takes longer for bigger parts and more complex organs. Luckily there didn't seem to be a word in their language for liver or spinal column.
His expression twists for a moment, but the smile quickly returns. "Yes." He agrees.
The pain that radiates from your ankle would have made you pass out a few months ago, but now it only elicits a stifled grunt. You snatch the book from Mr. Gap's hand as he smiles at the newfound treasure that appears in his grasp. You sigh once more and put the book to the side before pressing an already bloodied towel to your ankle.
With the bleeding successfully stopped, there was nothing else for you to do but lie in bed while you waited for it to grow back. You spared a glance towards your new book, but couldn't muster the energy to read it. The isolation of this world had been wearing on you. You had been spending time with Mr Silvair and Mr Chopped lately, but there was another recent earthquake that blocked off your path to them. You had yet to find the time to search for a new one.
With an arm draped over your eyes, you fell back against your threadbare pillow. The covers rustled around you, giving away the presence of another with you.
"Why sad?" You opened one eye to look down at your covers. The face of Mr Gap blended in with the darkness above your legs. If he had a body, he would be nearly lying on top of you. The part of your brain that was still human couldn't help but think that some actual physical touch would be nice.
"I one. Sad. Friend not here." Elaborating on the concept of loneliness using a lexicon of 100 words wasn't really a task you wanted to undertake at the moment.
You had thought Mr Gap would either leave or laugh at you, but to your surprise he looked confused. "I here." He responded.
Now it was your turn to be confused. If you weren't mistaken, he seemed almost offended that you hadn't called him a friend.
"You friend?"
"Yes." If this language had some equivalent of 'duh', you imagined that would be what he would say instead.
All you can do in response is blink at him. You really never imagined that Mr Gap would hang around you because he considered you a friend. If anything, you thought he just saw you as a an endless stream of various body parts. "Thank you. I like friend."
Hesitantly, you lifted a hand to reach up and stroke his head. He looked mildly disgusted (which was often his expression anyway), but didn't react otherwise. His hair wasn't exactly pleasant to touch- it was greasy and weirdly damp in places- but at least it was something of what you had been missing. He continued to humor you, but you decided not to push your luck on how long he would allow you to continue touching him.
"Why touch?" He asked when you were done.
"Human like touch. Make sad go away." It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you figured it would get the point across.
Hesitantly, one of his arms reaches out from beneath your covers. Your current working theory was that his arms just appeared whenever he needed them, but you haven't gotten around to asking him yet. Your positioning is a bit awkward, so he can't reach your head to return your pats. Instead, he pats you on the shoulder for a few seconds. His hands are cold and clammy, but those few seconds of touch are something you've been missing for a while.
You smile. Mr Gap could be annoying at best and cruel at worst, but it would seem that he does have a sweet side to him after all. You distantly wonder if some semblance of a normal relationship would be possible here. Unlikely, but it may not be as out of reach as you once thought.
"Thank you. You good friend." You said after a beat of silence. For a moment it appears like he isn't quite sure how to feel about your declaration. You don't imagine it's something people tell him often. After a second of thought, he returns your smile.
"Me good friend. You give heart?"
Well, you can work on that.
#x reader#homicipher x reader#homicipher#mr gap#mr gap x reader#homicipher mr gap#mr gap x you#Homicipher one shot#mr scarletta#mr crawling#mr hood
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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.
Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.
If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.
The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.
Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.
But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.
It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.
Almost every senior.
It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.
But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.
He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.
It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.
He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.
But actually sitting there is his own choice.
He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.
Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.
So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.
“Wanna sign?”
Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.
“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.
Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.
Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.
Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.
“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”
Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.
A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.
And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.
The bell rings.
Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.
Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.
But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—
“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.
It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.
Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.
“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”
Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.
Good luck, Steve. —Eddie
Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.
Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.
And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.
He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.
#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda#pre steddie#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
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