#snow falls secret | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jayparked · 2 months ago

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traditionally nontraditional | park sunghoon

SYNOPSIS: newly married, you and your husband love creating your own...unique traditions

PAIRING: husband!sunghoon x wife!female reader

GENRE: smut

AU: established relationship, chrithmith ∩(·ω·)∩

RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni

WORD COUNT: 7.2k of pure smut baby

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, creampie, dom/sub dynamics, big dick hoon, cock abuser!hoon, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, nudes, sexy ornaments, dirty talk, slightly bratty y/n and hoon is not having it, impatient insatiable hoon, he's so down bad for his lil wifey, teasing, sex with barely any prep, size kink, mentions of size training, strong language, sunghoon cannot stop praising you for the life of him, implied oral (m. receiving), choking, pet names, begging, body worship, overstimulation, forced orgasm, punishment kink, y/n gets tied up :) they are so grossly in love i was gagging the whole time

SNAIL TRAIL: merry belated christmas! for all my freaky horny down bad sunghoon stans. this one's for you. but mostly to my favorite hoonie girl @sungbeams who not only made this incredible banner, but also beta read for me and continued to throw constant words of encouragement my way when i was struggling to write this. as always, i love you so much and everything i do is for you.

“Sunghoon…what is this?”

You’re sitting in the living room of the home you and your newly wedded husband purchased only a few months ago. Wrapping paper and gift bags are strewn throughout the room, traces of hours of opening presents together for the first time as husband and wife littered in a haphazard mess. The fireplace, which is the only lightsource in the room right now besides the ones decorated on the Christmas tree, is warming the entire room as gentle snow falls outside, colorful lights reflecting off the sparkling white substance. You’re bundled up in your favorite Christmas pajamas on the couch while Sunghoon sits in a plush recliner facing you. A proud sparkle adorns your husband’s eyes as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees while he rubs his hands together with excited anticipation as he watches you closely.

“Do you like it? He can’t help the way his lips pull into a subtle smirk, his eyebrows quirking up on the word ‘like’. Sunghoon feels insanely proud for being able to keep this particular gift a surprise. Normally he gets too excited and has to tell you as soon as possible. There’s been quite a few birthdays and anniversaries in the past where Sunghoon hasn’t even made it out of the department store before FaceTiming you and showing you what he’s in the process of buying you. Getting a view of the department store workers side eyeing your husband as he excitingly gushes at you through the phone always warms your heart. An array of apologies always leaves his lips after telling you what he’s gotten you. If it were anyone else, you’d be slightly annoyed with the ruined surprises. But, in all honesty, you actually adored it from him. Your husband being too excited to keep a secret is just another way of him expressing his love. Plus, even if he can’t hide the larger, more extravagant things, he still finds ways to surprise you.

Like with what you have resting in your palms right now. The plastic squeaks slightly as your thumb rubs against it. Memories flood your mind, your thighs twitch, yearning to rub against one another as you lick your lips. It’s hard to ignore the dark haze in your husband’s gaze and the way his legs are spread so perfectly apart.

Noticing your staring, Sunghoon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at his hands before raising his eyes to meet yours once again. He’s waiting for your response, you know he is, and you also know that he’s patient enough to sit here for hours until you’re able to find your voice and speak just what exactly is pulsing through your mind.

And the longer you make Sunghoon wait, the more pleasure he gets from seeing you squirm beneath him later.

“I-I love it. Wow…” You gulp as you stare at the ornament in your hands, eyes unable to tear away from the polaroid Sunghoon has placed perfectly inside.

But it’s not just any polaroid.

It’s a very explicit photo of the two of you on your wedding night where you’re on your knees, throat stuffed with your newly wedded husband’s deliciously thick cock. Mascara running down your cheeks and a hint of drool dribbling down your chin is visible in the photo along with Sunghoon’s large hand gently pulling your hair back.

“I remember that night so well,” Sunghoon grumbles as he leans back in his seat, his eyes still trailing over your body.

“I would hope you do!” you laugh, looking up at him, “Our wedding night, it was only a couple months ago after all.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” his gaze darkens, his arms moving to rest behind his head, “Especially the way you moaned once my dick hit the back of your throat. Or when I could see my bulge in your stomach. Or how you could still see my handprint on your ass the next morning. Or-”

“Hoon!” You laugh and toss a throw pillow towards him, which he catches easily, laughing along with you.

“Sorry. Like I said though, it’s a night I’ll never forget. And when you suggested we try to make our own Christmas traditions, well, what can I say? I was inspired.”

His smile is so genuine with a light sparkle in his eyes being reflected from the firelight. You can’t help but walk towards him, needing to be close and to feel his warmth. You’re about to lean in for a kiss when his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap. But that wasn’t good enough for him. Sunghoon repositions you so that you’re cradled in his arms, your head resting beneath his collarbone. He leans down slowly, a smile blooming on his face, until your noses touch. Giggling together, you both close your eyes and move your heads back and forth, noses bumping together repeatedly in the process. The innocent moment doesn’t last long, though. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, but before you get the chance, his soft pillowy lips are brushing against yours, his strong arms pulling you closer to his body.

The kiss seems innocent at first, full of love and tenderness as your mouths move together. But one little shift of your hips in his lap has your husband groaning, deepening the urgency of the kiss. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you eagerly grant him entry all while one hand cusps your cheek and the other grips your hip tighter. Your own hands can’t stay still as one dips below his shirt and wanders from his stomach up to his chest, marveling at the way his muscles feel against your palms and fingertips.

He quickly repositions you. Now, straddling his lap, his hands are free to roam down your body, exploring every curve he can. As if he hasn’t already familiarized himself with every inch of you. Continuing the kiss, he groans as you naturally grind your hips against his lap. His hands grab at your waist, quickling seating you down on him fully until you’re able to feel his cock hardening beneath you. At the feeling of friction against your clothed clit, you moan into his mouth, head tilting back slightly while you grind on him harder. Sunghoon catches your bottom lip between his teeth, growling slightly as he pulls and sucks.

Once he releases you, his mouth is attached to yours again immediately. The kisses are deep, feverish, and desperate; his tongue sloppily entering your mouth muffling any sigh or moan that was lingering within you.

Only when air is needed do you two break away. You look into his deep brown eyes and easily get lost in how lustful he appears. At the same time though, you see something in his eyes soften, complete love and admiration evident amidst the yearning.

“How about we make our second ornament, hmm?” Sunghoon smirks, nipping at your lips again. All you can do is quickly nod your head as you place your hands on his cheeks, savoring the tender moment before it’s gone. One thing about your husband is that once he gets riled up, it’s almost impossible to satiate the beast that consumes his sweet and romantic side.

“Perfect,” Sunghoon’s voice is husky with desire. Quickly, he stands up effortlessly with you still in his arms, one hand firmly placed on your back while the other holds one of your thighs. You can’t help but giggle as you cling to him, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. You slow your ministrations down when you hear him groan as you nip at a particular spot under his ear; you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue brush against his skin before biting down gently, careful to not leave any marks (per his unfortunate request, no visible marks can be left on him due to his new position at work. Plus, it’s been harder to cover them up and there’s only so many times he can wear a scarf during the summer without getting weird glances from coworkers. And the amount of turtle necks he’s worn during this winter season in particular is fashionably criminal).

Sunghoon easily carries you to your shared bedroom, not even bothering to close the door as he gently tosses you on the mattress. You quickly sit up, peeling your clothes off of you before Sunghoon even has a chance to get on the bed himself.

“Slow down, let me help you,” he murmurs, placing a hand on your arm to stall you. You let him remove your shirt, although he’s doing it painfully slowly; leaving soft kisses along your collar bones and the base of your neck once they’re properly exposed. Even though his movements are slow and intentional, it feels like time is speeding up between you in the best way possible. It’s something you can’t quite explain. You’ve heard other people talk about how time seems to stop when they’re with their partners. But, for you, time has always sped up with Sunghoon, the entire world spinning by as the two of you live in your own timezone; a cocoon created just for you two to find solace in.

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Finally, Sunghoon has you completely naked and laying on your side, supporting your upper body weight by laying on your elbows as you look at him towering over you. He’s already swatted your hand away from him when you tried to lift his shirt up, a wide, goofy smile plastered on his face as he gently encourages you to wait. What you’re waiting for? You have no idea. But your heart is racing with anticipation, your body warm and cheeks flushed already.

All he does is roll up his sleeves slightly, exposing his veiny forearms. Instantly your eyes are drawn to his hands, though, his fingers flexing slightly as they move back down to his sides.

“You’re staring, darling.”

“Can’t help it,” you sigh, “look at you.”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, an endearing smile back on his face, “Look at me? Look at you. So pretty for me…” he takes a step forward, his gaze primal and hungry, “so pretty for me to ruin, tsk tsk. What am I going to do with you?”

You feel your face heating up even more, blush surely spreading across your cheeks. You can’t help but wish he would hurry up, though. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest with how fast and hard it’s pounding. Hands craving for a purpose, you keep reaching for your husband, desperate to feel his skin mingle with yours, but he keeps swatting you away. Your body is aching for him like it always does, no matter how many times you’ve had him inside you. You always want more of him- need more of him.

Sunghoon looks towards the closet where you keep your polaroid camera resting safely on the shelf above your hanging clothes, the long neck strap spilling over the ledge. But, he bites his bottom lip and turns back to you, groaning as he places his knees on the edge of the bed. One of his hands comes out to grasp one of your knees, spreading you apart so he can properly look at your glistening cunt.

“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can see how wet you are for me already. Darling, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You try to look away from him, but his gaze is too captivating, holding you in place.

“Just looking at you has me like this,” you quip playfully, “my husband is just so sexy.”

“Fuck…say that again,” he groans, massaging your knee with his hand, his eyes glued to yours.

“My…hus…band,” you say slowly, drawing out the syllables with a smirk, clicking your tongue at the end while you bring a foot up to rest on his thigh.

His free hand instantly grasps your foot, stopping its movements immediately. Sunghoon can’t help but sigh and marvel at you. But only for a moment. Roughly, he tosses your leg to the side and buries his face in your heat, forgoing the slow build up he initially was going for and presses his nose against your clit as he tongues at your hole.

“Oh!-” You let out a surprised choked yelp, but you’re quickly sputtering as one of your husband’s hands comes up to grasp one of your breasts tightly. His thumb flicks over your perked nipple, massaging your mound harshly as his tongue continues to lick at your arousal. Your back naturally arches, your hands grasping at the sheets near your head as moans easily leave your lips.

“Mmm, so sweet for me,” Sunghoon coos, bringing his free hand up to wipe at his mouth. At first, you think he’s done, but then he has two fingers roaming between your folds collecting your slick. “So wet, all for me,” he says proudly, eyes locked in on your cunt. He’s more so talking to himself. More praises and remarks are made but your head is becoming too foggy, thighs now twitching with the soft contact. You need more, more of him.

Your hands snake down to his head, making him look at you for a moment while you silently plead for him. You know that he knows what you want, but all he does is smile happily at you, continuing the slight touches. His fingers circle the outside of your hole and just far enough outside of your clit to have you clenching. It’s completely unfair for him to do this to you, but unfortunately, it’s not the first or last time he will play with you like this.

“So needy,” he coos again, “is this what you want?” Sunghoon slowly pushes one digit into your cunt, making sure not to move it around. You try to suck him in further, hips wiggling unintentionally.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, closing your eyes, “please.”

“Please what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s enough to make you want to throw a bratty tantrum. But, somehow, you’re able to stop yourself. Because this is exactly what you want. And if you give into your bratty dynamics, it’ll only prolong what you need.

So you’ll give your husband what he wants, for your own selfish agenda of course. “Please touch me more. I need you. No more teasing. Please.” The more you talk, the whinier you sound, but you don’t care anymore. Your hole continues to clench around his digit, desperate for it to move, piston, curl, do anything other than just sit dormant.

Sunghoon chuckles lowly, “Being so good for me today, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll give my wife what she needs since she’s been such a good girl this year.”

Your eyes are still closed as you sigh, waiting to feel more of his fingers inside you or even to feel his lips around your clit.

But that’s too predictable. And Sunghoon doesn’t like being predictable.

Instead, your eyes pop open as you feel Sunghoon’s cock pushing into you. The stretch is painfully delicious, your body shivering as he fills you up more and more. Once he’s completely sheathed inside you, Sunghoon groans and grips your knees tightly. You don’t know how you didn’t hear him slide his pajama pants down his thighs, but it’s a detail you don’t mind missing. Plus, you’re more focused on the way your body stings, urgently trying to adjust to his giant cock. Sunghoon stills for a moment, chest heaving as he adjusts himself inside you.

“God, you’re so tight,” he hisses.

“That’s what happens when you don’t warm me up properly.”

“Smart fucking mouth,” he tsks but he can’t hide his smile. Sunghoon quickly rips his shirt over his head, tossing it mindlessly to the floor next to him. “I know you can take it, though. Your body was made for me, afterall.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before his hips are pulling back, snapping forward back into you just before you feel his tip about to leave your hole. You moan with the force of his thrust, hands reaching out to grip onto his firm biceps.

“Look at you. You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful,” Sunghoon groans as he thrusts harder and faster into you. “So…beautiful,” he grunts again. You gasp as he leans forward, his cock hitting a new angle. But you don’t have time to fully appreciate it. His hand wraps delicately around your throat, squeezing until a slight gasp leaves your lips.

It feels like your body is levitating; every inch of your skin prickles with a rush of adrenaline as your husband continues to abuse your hole. The way his hips snap against your thighs has you feeling bruised already. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some might feel embarrassed for how quickly they get to their orgasm, but not you. You feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that your husband knows your body so well and is always determined to have you come before he does. It’s a law he’s written for himself. And, ever since the first time you’ve been together, he’s held true to it. The rare times he comes before you do is if you’re sucking him off quickly somewhere outside of your home, which is usually taking place in a restaurant bathroom or a dressing room in a random department store. Being the man Sunghoon is, though, that same night he makes sure to spend hours with your thighs cushioned against his head. No matter how much you beg for his cock, he always insists on using his tongue or hands to fully appreciate your body as a reward for taking care of him at the random moments when he needs to use you.

Ever the selfless, Sunghoon lessens his grip on your throat and leans down, kissing you softly while his pace doesn’t relent. It’s drowning the way his lips naturally mold with yours, all the words you want to say get poured into the way you receive his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

“Don’t come yet,” he commands, a harsh bite in his voice as he pushes your hips down, “I want our next ornament to be a picture of you right as your orgasm hits. Can you do that for me? Can you hang on just a little bit longer, baby? I just want to have a little more fun with you before I grab the camera.”

You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to try to keep yourself from orgasming. Tears prick your eyes as you feel your body start to betray you despite your best efforts.

“C’mon, baby, please? Fuck, I don’t think I can stop. You just feel so good,” he groans loudly, both hands gripping your breasts tightly as he continues pounding you into the mattress. “If you can’t hold it I’ll just have to make you come again and again until I get the picture I want.”

“Please let me, Hoon. I-I can’t-” a choked moan interrupts you when Sunghoon presses his thumb firmly on your clit, rubbing harshly at a steady pace while his cock continues to piston in and out of you. You don’t even have a second to enjoy the dual stimulation. Your orgasm hits you like a train, exploding from the bottom of your body and rippling upward. Eyes rolling back so harshly, it feels like you’re going to pass out as your body starts to tremble violently underneath Sunghoon.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, slowing his pace down only slightly, “look at you, my pretty doll. Can’t even let me fuck you for more than two minutes before you’re losing your mind on my cock. You did so well taking me without any prep. Always so good for me.” He’s kissing up your chest between sentences, arms holding you tightly in place. You focus on the sound of his voice, letting the low familiar tone guide your soul back to your body.

Sunghoon pets your hair comfortingly, leaving gentle kisses along your face while his cock still sits snugly in your heat, unmoving. “You back with me?” he whispers, seeing the light returning back to your eyes and your body shaking less. You nod your head in response, a soft smile spreading on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“Good. Now that you’ve had your moment to catch your breath I can punish you properly.” Sunghoon removes himself from your body and the bed, now walking towards the closet.

“W-what?” You sit up on your elbows and watch him, confused with the way his jaw clenches and his back muscles tense.

“I thought you were gonna be a good girl for me, but I guess I was mistaken.” He’s digging around in the closet, nowhere near where the camera is.

“But I have been good!” You pout shamelessly, your tone whiny and full of attitude.

Finding what he was looking for, Sunghoon straightens himself and grabs the polaroid camera without a second glance. When he turns around, you gulp, seeing the four fuzzy cuffs in his hands alongside the camera.

“I told you not to come,” he flicks his hooded gaze at you, his face cold and annoyed, “so you don’t get to touch me since you wanted to be so greedy.”

Silently, Sunghoon walks back towards the bed and quickly fastens your feet into two of the cuffs, securing them snuggly and pulling out the fabric straps from under the mattress to hook the cuffs to. His jaw is still clenched while he moves impatiently, huffing at himself when his fingers fail to get them secure the first time. Only when he moves to your last free wrist does he finally look at you. Trying to appear sorrowful, you jut out your bottom lip and lower your head to look at him through your eyelashes. Sunghoon groans, always falling into this trap when it comes to you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know what you did was wrong. And I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You disobeyed so you’ll be punished. I know how handsy you get so it only seems fitting.”

You tug playfully at your wrist constraints, eliciting a stern scowl from your husband. Sighing and shaking his head, he takes out the camera and sets it down next to your body.

“But it’s Christmas…” You try again, but he doesn’t acknowledge you this time.

Sunghoon patiently looks over your body, his eyes slowly combing over every curve of your body, biting at his bottom lip as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this. You desperately want to rub your thighs together, missing the feeling of his cock stretching you out. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, the way your legs tug at the cuffs or the way your hips buck up slightly. It’s almost worse that he won’t acknowledge you, even slowing down his gaze. And it’s killing you that he’s not even saying anything so all you’re left with is the cold air settling against your skin and feeling like a frog about to be dissected with the way you’re displayed before him.

You let out a low moan, a huff really, while you furrow your brows and desperately try to meet Sunghoon’s gaze. He trails a finger from your thigh down to your ankle, your body twitching under his touch.

“Hoon-”

“No.”

One of his hands falls to his aching cock, still erect and glistening from your arousal. He slowly moves up and down his length, wincing slightly while looking hungrily at your exposed pussy. Flashbacks of your first night together flood your mind, the way Sunghoon practically drooled over your naked heat while your body trembled with a surge of adrenaline. The look on his face now is the same as it was all those years ago.

Finally, his eyes trail up your body, resting into your gaze. That soft smile is back and you wonder if he’s reminiscing like you are, if he’s feeling the same overwhelming swell in his chest, wishing this moment wouldn’t have to pass and you could stay like this together forever.

As romantic as that sounds, you’re both over it. Smirks blooming on both of your faces as the yearning and needing for one another takes over your bodies. You use another wasted attempt at your constraints, whining for your husband in a near tantrum state. It only fuels his ego, loving how desperate you are for him. His erect cock visibly twitches, pulling Sunghoon towards you like a magnet. Placing a knee inches away from your dripping cunt, he leans down and groans as he kisses you, putting so much pressure against your lips that your head pushes deeper into the pillows until your neck starts to ache. His tongue doesn’t wait for your permission, forcefully pushing past your lips until he’s able to collide the muscle against your own. You moan into him, bucking your hips up once again to try to feel his body against your own, but he’s hovering a teasing length away, just enough for you to not be able to reach him.

In compensation, one of his large hands moves to grip your waist tightly, nails digging into your skin while he continues to attack your mouth. You desperately want to reach your hands out and wrap them around his neck, to tug on the ends of his hair and move his head to the side to nip and pull at the skin beneath his ear.

The tension building up in your body is reaching a boiling point and you’re afraid you might actually lose your mind. Sunghoon loves to hear you beg, that’s nothing new to you, but the type of begging you’re on the verge of doing will only become a regret shortly after. You want to keep your composure, you really do, want to be the patient perfect wife Sunghoon married months ago. How could you possibly behave in a time like this? With a man like this?

You’re about to let loose when Sunghoon breaks away from your lips, moving his own along your jawline and dipping down to nip at your collarbones. In doing so, Sunghoon’s body lowers and you feel the tip of his cock bump against your swollen lower lips. Gasping, no, moaning, no-, whining, fuck, maybe all of the above sounds leave your lips simultaneously. Arching your back, your body desperately needs to be closer to him, to feel him against every inch of your skin. You feel dizzy, high even from the lack of contact and he has the nerve to sit there and watch you, chuckling as if you did something cutely amusing.

“You think this is funny?” You finally manage to pant out, wrists getting sore from tugging too harshly against the cuffs.

“Very.” Fangs beaming through his smile and sparkling eyes, Sunghoon gives you a moment before reaching for the camera. Quickly his fingers work until a bright light flashes in your face making you blink quickly.

“Sorry, love. Just couldn’t resist that pouty face of yours. Definitely one for the books. Now,” he grunts, looking down where your bodies are almost connected, “you ready for me? Gonna listen this time?”

You nod your head earnestly, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled again.

“Take a breath,” he instructs, lining himself up to your hole, “because I’m not warming you up again. And I don’t plan on going slow.”

Instinctively, you do as you're told and inhale slowly. Sunghoon watches and waits until you’re exhaling to shove the head of his throbbing cock past your walls. Only getting halfway in, Sunghoon winces, letting out a low groan as his brows furrow while he looks at you, gritting his teeth as his eyes darken. Moving back onto his knees, Sunghoon tears his gaze from you and pushes his hair out of his eyes, his brows furrowed while he lets out another impatient huff. A failed experimental thrust getting him nowhere deeper inside you only elicits more huffs and a few muttered swear words. He leans down and lets a wad of spit string down from his mouth, landing directly where his cock and your pussy meet. Sunghoon brings one hand down and smothers the spit along his digit, moving it along his cock and up to your clit where he rubs annoyed circles frantically. He knows it doesn’t feel that good for you to be instantly met with harsh pressure and fast speeds, but he’s not trying to make you feel good right now exactly. No, he wants your body to react faster, to adjust to him before he completely loses his patience.

“After all this time I’m still too big for this little pussy? Thought I trained you better.” He’s shaking his head in disapproval and all you want is to get on your hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness; to beg for him to show you how to take his monster cock properly. But you’re left to just lay here like a starfish, whimpering as you try to relax your body. It feels impossible with all the anticipation building up. Your body is tense, heart rate increasing with every passing second. Your walls pulse around his thick member, sucking him in further and further with each subtle rock of his hips. Sunghoon’s brows are furrowed so deeply and his jaw clenched so tightly makes you clench around him even harder. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. Normally so patient and unbothered, it’s moments like this that really excite you. Because an impatient and bothered Sunghoon just means more fun for you.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon grumbles and grabs your hips firmly, backing out slowly only to ram himself completely into you. Gasping as his tip hits your cervix, your hips stutter against his pelvis. Sunghoon exhales a slow chuckle, biting his tongue between his fanged teeth with a smirk.

“God, you’re clenching me so tight I feel dizzy.”

Moaning out a haggard, “‘M sorry” is all you can muster. Not that he gives you more time to form a proper sentence. Sunghoon is already moving before you can even adequately appreciate the full feeling he’s giving you. Your chest bounces with each harsh thrust, every muscle in Sunghoon’s body is flexed and strained as he finally delves into his own pleasure. His biceps and pecs are bulging right in front of your face, almost mocking you for not being able to touch or gnaw on them.

“My pretty wife taking me so well,” grunting, his pace quickens, “you’re doing so, so good for me.”

Your body is desperately fighting against the restraints, feeling so good and overstimulated all at once. The pleasure building up inside your body is looking for any sort of relief. Not being able to rake your fingernails against the skin of his muscled back, not being able to leave open mouthed kisses along the side of his face and neck, it’s all driving you crazy. To just sit here and take this continual cock abuse is driving you so quickly over the edge you’re afraid of coming too quickly again.

“Sunghoon,” you gesture your head to the side where he placed the camera minutes ago, “the camera.”

“Already?” The innocent and shocked expression on his face has your cheeks feeling hot, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you as grounded as you can. But that knot is winding tighter and tighter, he’s hitting all the right spots and one more low whine out of that pretty mouth of his is all it will take to have you coming undone.

Sunghoon stares at your face, the way your nose is scrunched and your eyes are closed, and hurries to grab the camera. His thrusts slow only slightly, the intensity lessening as he moves his body to grab the device. From fast and deep, he changes to slow and intentional; languidly dragging his cock against your walls.

Sunghoon raises the camera up to his eyes but stops, his body completely stilling, the camera lowering to his side.

You open your eyes and blink slowly at him,“What’s wrong?”

“I have a crazy idea.” There’s a far away look in his eyes mixed with a little sparkle, a look you’re not completely unfamiliar with.

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you say confidently, without any hesitation. What a silly question for him to even have to ask. Curiosity is starting to overwhelm the back of your mind when you see Sunghoon turn the camera over in his hands, the long black neck strap slipping between his fingers, wondering what the hell he has planned in that quiet mind of his.

Sunghoon is inspecting the camera strap carefully, then glancing back at you.

“I’m gonna choke you with this.”

“What?”

A proud smile adorns his face as he guides your head up and slips the camera around your neck. You gulp as you feel the scratchy material against your esophagus, Sunghoon’s grip already tight while he adjusts everything until it’s in the perfect spot with the extra fabric wrapped around his fist. The camera itself is in his hand in a ready position just in case he decides he needs to take a picture quickly. He gives some experimental tugs, relishing in the way your eyes flutter with the constriction. Twitching, his cock that’s still buried deep inside you pulls his focus back.

Sunghoon’s body now fully envelopes you, resting his body weight on his free arm while the other angles the camera near the side of your face.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” He chuckles with satisfaction, taking a quick experimental photo of your chest. He tosses the expelled polaroid on the other side of the bed, making sure the photo lands faced down.

You couldn’t answer even if you wanted to; same old dance, different song really. Because your husband has started up his rhythmic thrusts again, going back to his original pace and pulling at the camera strap attached to your neck. You don’t miss the way he slips one of his fingers underneath the material though, the digit resting lightly against your skin.

Again, you desperately wish you could touch him. There’s no way to properly convey the yearning you have to feel his skin against your fingertips. To make up for the lack of physical action you can show him, you compensate with an array of moans with his name and swear words, you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Anything that will convey to him just what he’s doing to you exactly and how well he’s doing it too.

“Oh my-, fuck, Hoon! There- right-, yeah! I’m-, hmmm.” It feels like your body is levitating with how deeply your back is arching, brain getting dizzy, your eyes are rolling back so hard. You can feel your thighs starting to shake more and more with each thrust Sunghoon pounds into you. Has he ever been this deep before? There’s no way he hasn’t. He could be pushing your uterus further into your body for all you know with the way he’s going absolutely crazy on you.

Sweat blooming like 4am dewdrops on Sunghoon’s forehead glisten, some drops falling down against your own brow. He’s muttering something back to you in between kisses along your skin, but you can’t make out the words with how fast and quietly he’s talking.

Not that it matters anyways. Your release is building up so quickly again you’ve become a sputtering mess yourself.

“My god, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Sunghoon winces, voice louder and understandable once more, “You’re gripping me so tight. Are you close again already?”

“T-take the picture!” You squeal through a gasp, grinding your hips against him.

Moving fast, Sunghoon loosens his grip on the camera strap, positioning his fingers on the button and tries to angle the lens to a spot that fits his liking. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expressions. He almost can’t believe that he’s the reason your eyes are rolling back so hard, that he’s the one making your entire body shake without barely having to do anything at all.

“Oh!” You gasp as your husband’s cock twitches inside you mid thrust, hitting your g-spot easily. Your mouth falls open, back still arching and your eyes roll back yet again. The bright flash from the camera goes off while Sunghoon spews an array of swear words, tossing the camera to the side quickly. He grabs your hips and thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he chases his own high.

“You’re so fucking hot for letting me tie you up and take pictures of you, holy fuck. I have the best little wife,” he growls, “letting me do whatever I want with your body. You’re perfect, perfect for me.” A guttural groan leaves his lips as he ruts his hips against yours, muscles stuttering as he shoots hot ropes of cum as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Finally, you let out a loud sigh as you let your orgasm wash over your body. Electricity shoots throughout your veins as you ride out your high, Sunghoon slowly moving back and forth as he fucks his cum deeper into you. Even after you’re both panting and coming back to reality, he’s milking out every drop he possibly has left, making sure it’s well seated in you before pulling out fully.

With shaky legs, Sunghoon stands and stretches his arms over his head, returning to give you a shaking, soft kiss to your trembling lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek before giving a swift peck to your nose. He moves to undo the cuffs from your wrists, massaging your skin lightly for a moment before moving onto the next ones.

You whine as he moves away from you, wanting to kiss his lips over and over again until you physically can’t anymore. Brain spinning from your high and body buzzing, you’re not ready to have any sort of space away from him just yet.

When Sunghoon finally gets the last cuff off your ankle, you sit up and grab his arm, pulling him back down to the bed and enveloping his body in your arms. He laughs as he falls on top of you, wasting no time to reciprocate the embrace, littering your face with rapid kisses that leave you giggling.

“I love you too, by the way.” You giggle, squishing your cheek against his while squeezing your arms around him tighter.

“I know,” he says softly. “Hey, we should see how the pictures turned out!”

“Oh god,” you groan, completely unprepared to see what you look like in a total fucked out dazed state. Sunghoon moves to the side, resting his head against your shoulder and reaching over your body for the photos, hiding them from your curious eyes so he can get a peak first.

“Daaammmnn,” he whistles with a side glance towards you, “I just felt myself twitch again. These are too good. Can we do this every time we have sex?”

“Lemme see.” You laugh and reach for his hand. He hands over the photos willingly, watching your face intently while you take in the photos. “That’s me? I look like that when I-”

“Yep,” Sunghoon sighs dreamily, “I never get tired of seeing it.” He tilts his head to the side to give you that rare goofy grin that you love so much.

“Should we put it in an ornament now?”

“Nah,” Sunghoon takes the polaroids from your hand and sets it on the nightstand, pulling you closer so now it’s your head that’s resting on his chest, “Let’s stay here a bit longer.”

Closing your eyes and breathing in his scent, you sigh happily, arms wrapped securely around his waist while he murmurs soft words into your hair. An array of “so pretty”’s and “my baby did so well”’s tumbling from his kiss swollen lips.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing. And you get your confirmation when you open your eyes.

“You want to go again…don’t you…”

Sunghoon exhales with a low chuckle, his head falling back while he continues to play with your hair. “What gave it away?”

“Well…you’re being very affectionate right now. And I have eyes.” You giggle and gesture towards his naked bottom half, with his (once again) fully erect cock on display.

“Oh…that.” Sunghoon shyly replies. “Can you blame me?”

Without waiting for your response, yet again (does he ever wait for you to properly reply to him?) Sunghoon moves quickly and is hovering over you once again, lowering his bottom half until his cock is nestling between your folds. Teasingly his tip nudges against your clit, your body already weeping to have him inside you again.

Thinking he’s about to put himself back in, you brace your body to feel the stretch. Instead, Sunghoon gives you a mischievous grin and grabs your waist. He flips you around, pulling your hips back until your ass is in the air and flush against his pelvis.

You feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance again, but he pauses. And you groan because he seems to always be doing this; somehow always getting lost in thought just when you’re ready to let everything go and be fully consumed by him. But nothing can ever be that simple to Sunghoon. Every minute, every second, every detail is thought out in ways that only Sunghoon could do. But the more he gets lost in thought, the more pleasure you’ll feel later. If only your patience could keep up.

“Fuck, I wanna tie you up again.”

You let out a surprised laugh, somehow, at the same time, you’re not completely surprised by this at all. His words are so simple, yet they send an excited chill throughout your body. You know better than to move when you feel his presence leave you, most likely heading back to the closet to rummage through your shared box of fun.

You hear his feet shuffling back, followed by the bed dipping under his body weight shortly after. “Mmm. Love you like this,” he sighs, massaging the swell of your ass with his hands before landing a playful smack to it. He grabs your arms and places your wrists on top of each other. The feeling of what’s most likely one of his ties wraps around, tightening deliciously around your skin until you can’t move your arms at all.

“We’re going to make so many ornaments tonight, baby.”

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

#spilled ink #warm up #wlw #writeblr

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starsyaa · 6 months ago

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Bts ot7 x reader (i)

CEO

Series

The butterseries COMPLETE

Combined beings COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

Chantaje COMPLETE

Office CEO Au ONGOING

Petrichor ONGOING

MAFIA

Series

Combined beings COMPLETE

Between the bloodshed COMPLETE

Everything between us COMPLETE

Ethereal COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

War of the hearts ONGOING

Be my light ONGOING

Cry me a river ONGOING

Oneshot

Mafia Au

Your protectors

Secret story of the swan

Eye of the beholder

Their innocent girl

Crumble

IDOL

Series

Quarantine COMPLETE

Beautiful confusion COMPLETE

8th member imagines!

Life with bangtan

Little do you know

The plot twist (soulmate) ONGOING

Change my mind ONGOING

The line between love and war (soulmate) ONGOING

Oneshot

The little things

Hold your promise

Being BTS's baby

Eighth member of BTS

Nothing new

Hurt/Sick

Clumsy/We need bubblewrap

What words can't say

Birthdays & Boyfriends

Shell

Kitchen fairies

00:00

HYBRID

Series

Hybrid house COMPLETE

To build a home COMPLETE

Escape COMPLETE

The little fox COMPLETE

Whirlwind COMPLETE

A place called home COMPLETE

Roses and thorns COMPLETE

Shelter of hope COMPLETE

Hybrid heart attack COMPLETE

Shadows and wolfbane COMPLETE

Oasis COMPLETE

Something thicker than blood COMPLETE

Outside of the fox ONGOING

Loved by seven ONGOING

Strawberry princess ONGOING

Masked miracles ONGOING

Trouvaille ONGOING

Safe and sound ONGOING

7 hybrids move in with me ONGOING

Oneshot

Tangled hearts

Mean kitty, soft kitty

Core pride

Secret story of the swan

COLLEGE

Series

Everything falls into place COMPLETE

Thesis IT COMPLETE

Prove IT COMPLETE

OMEGAVERSE

Series

House of the omegaverse COMPLETE

Belong ONGOING

Find rest for your soul ONGOING

Petrichor ONGOING

Iridescent love ONGOING

You belong ONGOING

Feels like home ONGOING

Moonchild ONGOING

Snow angel ONGOING

Dragon

Series

Ethereal COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

Dragonheart ONGOING

Fantasy

Series

The galaxy above us COMPLETE

A thousand spring (soulmate) COMPLETE

Tell me your lies COMPLETE

Stay alive ONGOING

Euphoric endeavors ONGOING

Magic shop ONGOING

Ongoing

The eve

Royal

Series

The return of an empress COMPLETE

Royal/Bodyguard COMPLETE

Fall of empire ONGOING

Oneshot

Soulmate/royalty

Others

Series

Boyfriend for hire COMPLETE

Getting back into the swing of things COMPLETE

Enjoy your stay COMPLETE

Death valley COMPLETE

Strangers COMPLETE

Out of love ONGOING

Shadows we trust ONGOING

Oneshot

Pastel snowflake kisses

Thank my lucky stars

Jingle all the way

PART 2

#bts ot7 x reader #bts x reader #btsxreader #bts #bts polyamory #bts army #hybrid bts #mafia bts #bts ceo au

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hiraethwrote · 2 months ago

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ARE WE JUST FRIENDS?

pairing : osamu miya x f!reader summary : late in the evening your phone calls, and a desperate atsumu begs you to come pick up his brother who is not only drunk, but in an extremely bad mood — which results in your best friend behaving uncharacteristically mean cw : best friends to lovers, timeskip, ooc osamu (not sure, i struggle writing him), angsty, hurt to comfort, profanity, intoxication, subtle pining, some miscommunication, jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 2.5k

author's note : for my beautiful ave (@hiraethwa) as a part of @lale-txt's amazing hq secret santa event. ik i've taken my sweet time, and i hope the wait was worth it. due to a lil writing slump, and in general being intimidated by writing for hq, it ended up very different from what i initially planned, but i still hope you enjoy it <3 mwah

“What are you doing here?”

You drew a sharp breath, the venom in his voice catching you off guard.

“Atsumu called me,” you sighed, wrapping your arms tighter around your body. You tried to convince yourself it was to shield yourself from the December cold, but you knew it was more in order to bring yourself a sense of comfort — Osamu’s hostile tone stung more than expected.

He scoffed instantly as his brother’s name left your lips, head turning away as you saw him aggressively roll his eyes.

“Of course he did,” he mumbled.

His complaint was loaded with unspoken feelings. All the years you had known him had thought you that much — your usual sweet and mellow best friend had a tendency to become passive aggressive whenever something really bothered him.

“Don’t be like that. Come on, get up.” Part of you wanted to retaliate with a just as snappy remark, but it would only cause you more problems in getting him to come with you, something you suspected was already laid out to be a difficult task.

When he didn’t do as you told him, you stepped closer, begrudgingly offering him your hand to help pull him to his feet. He only stared at it — an ugly glare usually reserved for his brother.

“Osamu,” you groaned in frustration, “it’s fucking freezing, won’t you please just get up!” Again he just huffed. “Stop acting like a child,” shaking your hand, hoping he would eventually accept the gesture.

Finally he turned to look at you, his eyes digging deep into you as there was a tight crease between his eyebrows — it made your stomach turn. He never looked at you like this. If you didn’t know any better, you would describe it as pure disgust, that he couldn’t imagine a worse place to be than in your presence.

It was tempting to turn on your heel and let him sulk in his lonesome, where he sat on the frosty grass outside the annual Christmas party his team put together, one he had hinted at for weeks he never even wanted to attend. But you remained persistent, mirroring his mean frown and challenging his glare.

Another scoff slipped out of him. Then he weakly swatted your hand away and got on his feet without your help. Once he stood straight, you noticed how his towering frame swayed ever so slightly from the alcohol still running through his body.

“What?” He spat, still maintaining the ugly eye contact that felt like an insult.

The kindness that usually wallowed in his eyes seemed to have gone dormant. And despite his cruel and uncharacteristic edge, you couldn’t help but to admire how pretty he was. The light snow falling slowly around you, landing in his hair before melting into little droplets of water.

Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath through your nose to bite back whatever rested on your mind, trying to tell yourself he was only acting this way because he was drunk.

“Nothing.”

With high shoulders, both caused by the cold and the uncomfortable tension, you turned and headed over to your car and opening the passenger door to hold it open for him. But when you turned to look up, Osamu was stood in the exact same position, sporting the same grumpy expression.

Your head fell back with another loud groan. “Osamu, I’m not doing this with you tonight, just get in the car.”

“I don’t feel like going with you,” stuffing his hands in his jean pockets as his shoulders raised, trying to conceal how the cold was starting to make his body tremble.

“Too damn bad, now get in the car,” you said sternly as you contested his mean stare.

You wondered what the hell could have happened for you to earn this treatment from him. Yesterday everything seemed fine, hanging out the whole group where everything had been so pleasant — perfect even, if you dared be that honest.

The unspoken thing between you had continued to grow stronger, slowly but surely breaking out from the restraints of ‘just friends’. Your gazes lingered longer than what would be considered normal. More often than not, your arm would shyly be pressed against his the entire time you were hanging out — yesterday was no different.

And when it was time for you to take your leave, his arms had wrapped around your shoulders in a comforting hug that had resulted in your head resting on his chest. Your feelings had gotten the best of you, and you had let your eyes slowly glide shut and bask in his embrace for a moment longer than you knew you should have — then you didn’t hear anything from him until Atsumu had called and begged you to come pick him up.

“Please come and get him. He’s really drunk and should be in bed,” Atsumu’s voice was laced with concern before it twisted into irritation. “He’s also just in a fucking pissy mood.”

It hadn’t been a question whether you should do it or not — you would always be there for Osamu.

You just hadn’t expected to be met with such hostility from the person you were walking such a fine line with, especially when it came so out of the blue.

“Atsumu really wasn’t kidding when he said you were pissy,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Funny how you two keep talking about me,” he said, kicking an illusionary rock making him appear even more like a bratty child.

“Yeah, told me your own team don’t even want you at the party no more because you’re a buzzkill.”

An aggressive scoff shot past his teeth. “Some friend you are, talking crap behind my back with my own brother.”

“Sure, whatever, you can tell me how bad of a friend I am on the way home. I won’t say it again, get. In. The. Car.”

There was a betrayal on his expression, a flinch in his frown, telling you your crass tone was having a bigger impact on him than he was letting on.

Though he hesitated, his feet eventually carried him unsteadily towards you. Without sparing you a single glance, he crouched in front of you to enter the car. And just as all four of his limbs were inside the vehicle, your anger had you slam the door with a lot more power than intended before scurrying into the driver seat.

“Put your seatbelt on,” you demanded, watching as his body had let go of the shivering as the heat inside the car enveloped him — but there was no change in his mood.

The car ride back to his apartment was spent with zero words exchanged. The only thing heard was the gushing sound of the heat you were blazing throughout the car, and the low tunes of your calm music, which was actually doing wonders for you to steady your emotions a little.

You pulled into his driveway, silence swallowing the car as you shut off the engine. You turned to look at him, bracing yourself to meet a stubborn child you probably had to fight in order to get out of the car — instead, he was half asleep, eyelids heavy as sleep was looming right around the corner. A deep sigh slipped out of you at the peaceful sight of your best friend.

Slowly you reached out, placing your hand on his shoulder to carefully shake him awake, “Osamu, we’re here,” you whispered, only for all your irritation to return in an instant as he jerked out of your gentle touch, frown creasing his features again.

He responded with a low “hmpf,” before unbuckling his belt and exiting the car, yet again never having the decency to look at you.

He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s drunk, you tried to tell yourself in order for you to be able to treat him with some grace. Alcohol could be the devil, turning the most gentle of people into pests — as seen right before your eyes. What kind of friend would you be if you couldn’t show him some mercy by excusing one bad night.

“Careful,” you sighed, rushing over to him to firmly place your hands on each side of his waist as he was about to tip over, “I got you.”

“I don’t need you to have me,” he nearly growled as he reached in his pocket for his keys — but he never jerked out of your grip, letting your hands remain at his side as substitute.

“Here, let me,” you tried to interject when he fumbled with unlocking the door for a second longer than your patience could endure. Of course he was unable to willingly hand you the keys, but at least he didn’t put up much of a fight when you twisted it out of his long fingers.

With one hand still resting on the small of his back, you unlocked the door. With gentle pressure, you ushered him forwards, desperate to get the nuisance that was your best friend to bed.

“You can go home now,” he slurred the second he set foot inside his apartment.

“Not leaving just yet,” you whispered, remaining close behind him, guiding him to his bedroom.

He grunted and grumbled disapprovingly, and you might even have heard a suppressed ‘so annoying’ under his breath. You bit your tongue again, just hoping he would pass out once he was safely in bed — maybe come tomorrow, he could even give you an apology.

“Now you can leave,” finally stumbling out of your light grip, spinning around to serve you yet another one of his frowns.

“I’ll get you some water first-“

“No. I want you to leave.”

“Let me take care of you first, okay?”

“No, please just go home.” There was a sadness in his voice now. And maybe it was the lighting playing tricks on you, but you swore you spotted a shine gloss over his eyes.

Your shoulders slumped, unable to give your anger room to grow when he was so evidently upset.

“Osamu,” you breathed, daring to take a step closer. “What’s going on?” Carefully you grabbed ahold of his arms and guided him to the edge of his bed. He wasn’t accepting your gestures entirely, scooting further away when you sat down beside him.

“Nothing. Just don’t want you here.”

“Did something happen tonight?”

“No, nothing happened so you can leave!” It seemed like he tried to find back to the bite that had been in his tone when you first picked him up, but the sudden shift in his mood had taken control of him instead.

You didn’t think twice about reaching out, placing a comforting hand on his back — only for him to shrug it off.

“Atsumu said you’d been-“

A visceral groan interrupted you. “It’s always Atsumu, isn’t it?” He turned to look at you, sad eyes locking with yours and now you could definitely spot the faint gloss of tears.

“What?” You breathed in confusion, eyebrows narrowing instinctively.

“All night!” He said, almost more to himself than to you.

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“All night, he was on his damn phone, and suddenly he has called you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, placing your hand in his back again to bring him comfort, but you wasn’t sure it was to any help. “Yes, so I could come pick you up.”

Another petty scoff, tainted with poorly hidden sorrow, escaped him. “Why don’t you just go? I’m sure he would love to hang out with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you spoke softly, eyes studying his profile as his gaze was locked on his lap.

“I told you to leave!”

“Osamu,” you said sternly, fingers gripping his chin to force his focus back on you. “I said I’m not going anywhere!”

His eyes kept betraying him — his lips carried a frown and that crease between his eyebrows appeared to have grown stuck on his forehead.

But his eyes just looked so sad, as if somehow there was a lot of pent up feelings that had suddenly decided to spring to the surface and trap him in a spiral.

“It’s me,” you whispered, attention flittering between his eyes, hoping the tenderness you conveyed would convince him to reveal himself to you.

“That’s the problem.”

This was the first time you could remember being nervous around him, bordering on scared. You knew what you hoped he was getting at, but you were too afraid to let yourself be entertained by the pleasant fantasy.

It was so much safer to live in the naivety, thinking you were just more affectionate than other best friends. Entertaining a lovesick dream of being anything more was simply too risky, only seeing a scenario where you ended up hurt.

However, the look he gave you sprinkled just the tiniest bit of reality to your fantasy.

“Do you like him?” the innocent question tumbling out on accident, googly eyes staring at you before his shoulders bounced with a quiet hiccup.

“Like who?”

“You know who,” he whined, eyes pleading for you not to make him say it.

“Atsumu?” He nodded weakly, gulping down the nervous lump in his throat. “I mean, sure.”

“But do you like like him?” He caused heat to flush your face by his adolescent question.

“We’re just friends.”

“Are we just friends too?”

For some reason, his bold statement had the tension in your body evaporate, shoulders slumping before you moved your hand to cup his face, certain you heard the softest hum leave him as your hand caressed him.

“No, we’re not.”

And then he melted into your touch, finally letting his sweet smile paint his lips instead of that damn frown.

“You know we’re not,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered just as low, “but I needed to hear you say it.”

“But Osamu?” Your voice was soft as velvet, watching how his eyelids had become heavy again.

“Hm?”

“You’re still really drunk,” you chuckled weakly.

“Don’t worry,” he yawned, “I’ve liked you for years, so I’ll still remember tomorrow.”

You had no choice but take his word for it, hoping he would in fact remember the small confession exchange that had taken place. At least you had the ability to bask in some relief, feeling as if tons had been lifted from your shoulders.

With no sudden movements, your hand left his face before carefully getting on your feet. His breaths had slowly turned deeper and slower, a clear indication sleep were to consume him sooner rather than later, gracefully leading him to lay down on the bed.

You pulled his covers over him, smiling to yourself at the peaceful sight and thankful the night had managed to take a turn for the better.

Just as you were about to head out of his bedroom, his soft voice spoke your name.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Osamu. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And right before you closed the door, you saw the sweetest smile stretch across his face once again.

an : also wanna thank the lovely lale for putting this whole thing together, and introducing me to this amazing group of people <3 comments and reblogs is much appreciated

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

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Number One | LN4

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N nervously gives Lando a Secret Santa gift with a very special meaning.

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.1k

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ author's note ━━━━━━━ I know I said I wouldn't be accepting requests until next month, but this request was so good that I had to write it.

Based on this request.

The flat was warm with the familiar hum of Christmas music softly playing in the background. It was the kind of night where everything felt just right—the snow falling gently outside, the lights twinkling like stars, and the chatter of friends mingling with bursts of laughter. Pietra and Max, the evening's hosts, had turned their cozy London flat into a festive haven. Friends filled the space, each holding glasses of mulled wine or eggnog as they celebrated the holiday season together.

Y/N stood near the kitchen, quietly adjusting the string of lights on the small tree in the corner of the living room. The colorful lights reflected off her wool sweater, casting a soft glow. Her breath came out in puffs as she concentrated on the decorations, though her mind was elsewhere. Among the gathered friends was Lando Norris—the one person who had made her heart race from the moment they met.

Lando, with his easy grin and mischievous charm, stood out effortlessly. His glistening eyes had a way of locking onto hers, making her feel like the only person in the room. She had noticed his attention before, but tonight felt different. There was an energy between them that she couldn’t ignore, and it left her both nervous and exhilarated.

The evening had started hours earlier when Y/N braved the cold London air, walking briskly toward Pietra and Max’s flat. The holiday season had transformed the city; streets sparkled with twinkling lights, and festive window displays adorned every corner. Despite the magic of the season, Y/N carried mixed feelings about Christmas. It always reminded her of the fractured ties in her family—estranged relatives back in her home country, and the quiet distance that had grown between her and her parents after years of unresolved drama. The holidays, for her, were bittersweet.

Still, she pushed those thoughts aside. Tonight was meant to be about friendship, warmth, and celebration. Pietra and Max had created a safe space for their circle of friends, and Y/N cherished these moments of connection. She had met Lando through this same group a little over a year ago. From the start, it was clear that Lando had taken an interest in her.

His gestures were subtle yet unmistakable: lingering glances, playful teasing, and the way his demeanor softened when he spoke to her. Yet despite his obvious affection, Y/N had kept her emotions carefully guarded. Her shyness and cautious nature acted as walls she wasn’t ready to let down. Falling for someone like Lando—whose glamorous, fast-paced life was worlds apart from her own—felt too risky.

Y/N stepped into the flat, the familiar warmth wrapping around her like a comforting hug. The scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of carols. She could hear bursts of laughter from the living room, where Pietra and Max had outdone themselves with their decorations. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, and a massive Christmas tree stood proudly by the fireplace, its baubles catching the flickering light.

Tugging nervously at the hem of her sweater, Y/N’s fingers brushed over the gift she had brought with her. She had drawn Lando’s name for Secret Santa, and the thought of giving him something personal made her stomach flip. It was one thing to be around him in their usual group settings, where his flirtatious remarks were playful and easy to laugh off, but this felt different. Intimate.

She hadn’t seen him yet, though she knew he would be there. Her heart raced at the thought. Lando always had a way of making her feel seen, and for someone like her, who preferred blending into the background, that was as thrilling as it was terrifying. She’d spent so much time building walls to protect herself, but tonight felt like the night to take a chance—to allow herself to believe in the magic of the season, and maybe even in the possibility of something more.

''Y/N!" Pietra called out, her voice bright with excitement. “You made it!”

Y/N smiled and made her way over to her friend, who was standing next to Max. They greeted each other with a hug, and Y/N’s eyes briefly flicked around the room. There, near the corner by the Christmas tree, stood Lando. He was talking to some of the guys, but when he caught her gaze, he smiled that signature grin—the one that made her heart flutter in spite of herself. He was leaning casually against the wall, looking effortlessly handsome in a dark jacket and a white shirt that highlighted his toned frame. But it wasn’t just his appearance that captivated her. It was how he made her feel when he looked at her.

As their eyes met, the intensity of his gaze was enough to send a shiver down her spine. But she quickly looked away, trying to ignore the knot forming in her stomach. She had a gift to give, after all. Lando’s Secret Santa gift.

“Everything okay?” Pietra asked, noticing Y/N’s distracted expression.

Y/N blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Pietra teased, a knowing smile on her lips. “I think you’re overthinking something.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “Maybe.”

“Just do it already,” Pietra said with a wink, nudging her toward Lando. “You’re both miserable, and I’m tired of watching you dance around each other.”

For the past few weeks, she’d been agonizing over what to get him. A Formula 1 driver. What did you get someone who had everything? After much thought, she’d come across the idea of something symbolic. Lando had achieved so much in his career, and though he hadn’t won the World Drivers' Championship yet, to her, he was already a champion. The T-shirt she’d ordered, with his name on the back, but instead of his usual number 4, it had the number 1. It was bold. It was daring. And it was her way of saying, in the quietest way she could, that she believed in him—no, more than that. She admired him. And more than anything, she wanted to show him that in the most personal of ways.

But the T-shirt wasn’t just a gift. It was a confession.

For months, Lando had been nothing but open with his affections toward her. He would tease her, give her that irresistible, sideways grin, and often say things that made her heart skip. Every time they were in the same room, it was impossible to ignore the way his gaze would linger just a second longer than necessary, the way he would find reasons to stand closer to her, brush his hand against hers. It had been maddening, especially since Y/N had tried so hard to keep her feelings hidden.

Tonight, however, something felt different. The atmosphere, the way Lando looked at her, the way she felt about him—it was all coming to a head. She could feel the pull of his gaze across the room, like a magnetic force. Every time she looked up, he was watching her.

After about an hour of mingling, Y/N found herself surrounded by a small group of friends, their laughter and easy conversation helping her momentarily forget the nerves fluttering in her chest. She sipped on her wine, smiling as one of Pietra’s friends recounted a particularly funny story about a disastrous skiing trip.

Despite her best efforts to stay engaged, her thoughts kept drifting to Lando. She could feel his presence in the room, even when she wasn’t looking. Every so often, her gaze would flicker to where he stood, effortlessly charming everyone around him. The way he laughed, the way his face lit up when he was telling a story—it was impossible not to notice.

“Y/N.” Pietra’s voice cut through her thoughts as she appeared by her side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can I borrow you for a minute?”

Y/N turned to her friend, her brows knitting slightly in curiosity. “Sure. Everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Pietra replied with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s. “I just think you could use a change of scenery.”

Before Y/N could protest, Pietra gently steered her away from the group, weaving through the crowd in the cozy, softly lit flat. The scent of mulled wine and pine lingered in the air, mingling with the low hum of festive music and the sound of cheerful chatter.

They stopped near a quieter corner of the living room, where the soft glow of fairy lights wrapped around the Christmas tree cast a warm, golden hue. The noise from the party was more distant here, the space offering a reprieve from the bustling energy of the main room.

Pietra turned to face Y/N, her expression shifting to one of gentle seriousness. “Alright, spill. What’s going on with you tonight?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been half here all night,” Pietra said, crossing her arms and giving her a pointed look. “And I know it’s not the party or the people. It’s him.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and she let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pietra rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. You’ve been sneaking glances at Lando every five minutes. And, spoiler alert, he’s been doing the same thing with you.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but found she couldn’t. Instead, she looked down, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not,” Pietra said firmly, her tone softening as she placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You like him. He definitely likes you. So what’s stopping you?”

Y/N sighed, her fingers brushing the edge of the gift bag she still held. “I don’t know, Pietra. What if he doesn’t see me the way I see him? What if—”

“What if you’re overthinking this, like you always do?” Pietra cut in, her voice teasing but kind. “Y/N, trust me, anyone with eyes can see how much he adores you. You just have to let yourself believe it.”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes naturally seeking him out. Lando was standing by the fireplace now, deep in conversation with Max. But even as he spoke, his attention seemed to drift, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. When their gazes met, his face lit up, and he gave her that boyish, lopsided grin that never failed to make her breath catch.

“See?” Pietra whispered, her voice breaking Y/N’s trance. “He’s not even trying to hide it.”

Y/N turned back to her friend, her cheeks burning. “What do I do?”

“You give him the gift,” Pietra said simply, her smile encouraging. “And maybe—just maybe—you tell him how you feel.”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the small bag tucked under the Christmas tree, its festive wrapping suddenly feeling like a spotlight on her nerves. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sweater, the anxiety bubbling inside her making it impossible to stay still.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you?” Pietra’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Y/N shot her friend a nervous smile, trying to brush off the question. “Nothing... just second-guessing, I guess.”

Pietra narrowed her eyes knowingly, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Second-guessing what? The gift? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s going to love it. You always put so much thought into these things.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “And let’s be real—it’s Lando. You could hand him a lump of coal, and he’d act like it was the most thoughtful, perfect gift in the world just because it came from you.”

“Pietra,” Y/N warned, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as she swatted at her friend.

“I’m just saying!” Pietra laughed, raising her free hand in mock surrender. “You have no idea how obvious it is to everyone. He’s absolutely crazy about you.”

Y/N glanced at the bag again, her heart pounding harder. “I don’t know... It’s just a T-shirt. What if it’s not enough? What if he doesn’t—”

“Stop.” Pietra cut her off firmly, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s arm. “It’s not about the gift itself. It’s about what it means. You’re showing him that you believe in him, that you see something special in him that maybe even he doesn’t fully see. That matters way more than whatever’s inside that bag.”

Y/N’s lips parted as if to protest, but she found herself falling silent. The sincerity in Pietra’s voice made her heart ache with a mix of hope and fear. “What if he doesn’t get it? What if—”

"Y/N, I swear, if overthinking were a sport, you’d have a gold medal by now," Pietra interrupted with a soft laugh, her expression warm. “Y/N, it’s not just about what he thinks. It’s about you letting him see how you feel. You’ve been holding back for months, but it’s so obvious that you care about him. And trust me, he knows. He’s just waiting for you to say it.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

Pietra’s smile softened, her hand giving Y/N’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re better at it than you think. And besides, Lando doesn’t need perfection. He just needs you. He’ll understand, Y/N. He always does.”

Y/N glanced back at the bag under the tree, her heart fluttering with both anticipation and dread. It wasn’t just a gift—it was her way of saying something she’d been too afraid to put into words. And tonight felt like the moment she could finally let herself try.

“You can’t keep hiding forever,” Pietra added gently, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “You’ve got this.”

Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage that felt just out of reach. “Okay,” she said softly, nodding as determination began to edge out her nerves.

After her conversation with Pietra, Y/N made her way to the kitchen, seeking a moment of solitude and hoping another drink would give her the courage to finally give Lando his gift. As she stood by the counter, pouring herself a glass, the sound of laughter drifted from the living room, breaking the quiet. Instinctively, she glanced over. There, in the doorway, Lando stood with a playful grin on his face, his eyes locked with hers. The moment their gazes met, it felt as though the world around them paused, his smile widening as he excused himself from the conversation and started toward her.

"Hey, there she is," Lando's voice was warm, low, and filled with playful intent. He leaned casually against the counter beside her, his presence filling the small space. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me tonight."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked down at her drink, her pulse quickening. "Just... getting another drink," she mumbled, trying to steady herself.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to the small Christmas tree in the corner. "It’s a bit much, don’t you think? We’re not all here for the holiday cheer, you know."

She chuckled softly, her cheeks flushing. "It’s festive."

"Festive, huh?" Lando’s eyes flicked over her, and for a moment, it felt like there was something deeper in his gaze than just the usual teasing. "You’re looking good tonight. Not that you ever don’t, but... tonight, there’s something about you." His voice dropped slightly, and he leaned in just a little closer. "I’ve been looking forward to seeing you."

Y/N swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. "Thanks," she whispered, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her at his words.

Lando straightened up, still casual but with an intensity in his eyes. "So, where’s my present, huh?"

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and her breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to ask so directly. "I, uh... I got you something," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me grab it."

Hastily, she moved toward the big Christmas tree, grabbed the small gift she had carefully wrapped, and returned to the kitchen. Her heart was racing now, nerves bubbling under the surface. Lando’s eyes followed her every movement, and as she handed him the gift, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of self-consciousness under his gaze.

"Oh? I’m honored," he said, his voice teasing. "But you didn’t have to get me anything. You know that, right?"

Y/N shrugged, her voice quiet but firm. "I wanted to. It’s... it’s something special."

Lando’s fingers tore into the wrapping with childlike excitement, revealing the black and orange McLaren T-shirt neatly folded inside. At first, he looked at it with that familiar grin, his fingers tracing over the name on the back. But when he noticed the number, his expression faltered, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. The playful banter he always carried slipped for a moment.

"Wait..." Lando muttered, his fingers brushing over the number. "This isn’t... this isn’t my usual number."

Y/N’s stomach tightened as she met his gaze, her nerves suddenly spiking. "No," she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Number one."

Lando’s expression softened as he studied the number, his lips parting. "This isn’t..." he trailed off, his voice barely audible as he looked back at her. "You... had this made?"

Y/N nodded, a sense of vulnerability creeping in. "I just thought... It’s not... I thought it suited you better. You’re already number one to us. I mean, your friends. Not us... not like that. But—"

But then, something shifted in Lando’s gaze. His eyes softened, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. "You’re incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

The room around them seemed to quiet as Lando carefully set the T-shirt down on the counter, his hand reaching for hers. Y/N felt her cheeks burn as he gently took her wrist and pulled her closer. "You’re amazing," he repeated, his voice low, sending a shiver through her.

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming, making her heart race even faster. "You have no idea what this means to me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "No idea."

Y/N shook her head, trying to brush it off. "It’s just a T-shirt," she muttered, wishing she could disappear into the floor.

"No, Y/N. It’s not." Lando reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. The tenderness of the gesture made her chest tighten. "It’s... God, I don’t even know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot."

Her heart was pounding now. "Say what?"

Lando took a deep breath, looking into her eyes with a vulnerability that took her breath away. "That you mean more to me than anyone else ever has," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don’t care if it’s too much or too soon or whatever, but I can’t keep pretending that I’m just happy being your friend."

The world around them faded as the gravity of his words settled between them. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she processed what he had said. She looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of her own confession stir inside her.

"Lando..." she began, her voice trembling. "I... I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I didn’t know how." She hesitated for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest. "I like you. I really like you. And I’ve been too scared to say anything, but... but when I saw you tonight, when I gave you the gift, I couldn’t keep it in anymore."

Lando’s eyes searched hers, the quiet understanding in his gaze making her feel as though her words had finally found a place to land. "I’ve been waiting for you to say that," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her wrist. He whispered her name, his voice so tender it made her pulse quicken. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she met his gaze, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. The weight of her confession was heavy, but the way he looked at her now—so soft, so full of emotion—made everything feel worth it. "I was scared..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Scared that it wouldn’t be enough. Scared of how I felt."

Lando stepped even closer, closing the distance between them. "You don’t have to be scared. You never have to be scared around me."

His words, his closeness, left no room for doubt. She smiled softly, feeling the tension in her chest slowly start to ease.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she looked up at Lando. The world around them seemed to slow down, the sounds of the party fading into a distant hum. It was as though there was only him and her in that quiet space, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. His eyes held hers with an intensity that made her knees weak, and his hand reached up, gently cupping her face. His thumb brushed softly across her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I..." Lando began, his voice low and earnest. "I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now." His words were soft but filled with a certainty that made her heart race even faster. "And I don’t know how to make you see that, but this... this is more than just a gift. You’ve got me, Y/N."

His confession hung in the air between them, and for a long moment, Y/N couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. His words seemed to fill every inch of her, making it hard to focus on anything but the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze. But then, as if everything had fallen into place, she found herself reaching up, her hand trembling slightly as it touched his.

"I’ve been falling for you, too," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with the weight of everything she had been holding back. Her heart felt like it might burst from her chest as Lando’s expression softened, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"You’re everything I’ve ever wanted," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from hers. "And I’ve been too afraid to admit it."

Before she could even process his words, he closed the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that started slow and tender, as if he was savoring the moment. It was everything she had imagined, yet so much more. His lips were soft, warm, and every touch sent a rush of electricity through her. But as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, more desperate—as if all the feelings, all the tension between them, had finally reached the breaking point and erupted in a single, beautiful moment.

Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back, her heart racing in her chest. This was what she had always wanted, the connection she had dreamed about. Everything else in the room faded away, leaving only the feeling of him—his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, his body pressed against hers. Every second felt timeless, each touch a promise.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Lando looked at her with a smile that made her feel like she was the only person in the world. His eyes were full of something deep and tender, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile back.

"I’ve wanted to do that for so long," Lando admitted, his voice husky, a mix of emotion and disbelief at the moment they had just shared.

Y/N searched his eyes, her heart full to the brim. "Me too," she whispered, the words almost too simple to capture what she felt.

Lando cupped her face gently with both hands, his expression serious now, his eyes never leaving hers. "I meant it, you know," he said, his voice steady, but thick with emotion. "You’re everything to me. And I promise, no matter what happens, you’ll always be my number 1."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as a smile spread across her face, her heart swelling with the weight of his words. She had confessed her feelings, and now Lando had done the same. She didn’t need anything else. In this moment, surrounded by the warmth of his affection, everything felt perfect. For the first time in a long time, Y/N allowed herself to believe it. She had found something real, something she never thought she’d have—and it was right here in front of her, in Lando’s eyes.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 #formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris fluff

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starmapz · 3 months ago

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what you know - ch5: hero || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.2k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

[email protected] - Tuesday, 10:44 PM Have lunch with us tomorrow!

[email protected] - Tuesday, 10:59 PM am i allowed to say no

[email protected] - Tuesday, 11:03 PM Nope! :)

[email protected] - Tuesday, 11:05 PM lucky me

If there’s one thing you can say about your friendship with Sukuna, it’s that he’s a lot funnier than all the rumors surrounding him give him credit for.

That, and that you’ve gotten a lot better at checking your email.

Pulling into the parking lot nearest to the campus library, you put the car in park and turn to the passenger’s seat to grab your bag. When you turn back, a startlingly tall figure is trudging through the snow towards you, salmon hair poking out from his hood standing as a dead giveaway as to who it is.

Rolling down your window, you call out to him. “Sukuna?”

He jogs towards you at the sound of your voice, resting his forearms on the edge of your car where the window is lowered. A paper cup adorned in a local coffee shop logo in each of his hands grabs your attention as he dips his head into your car and, more importantly, right into your personal space. Your heart races at the close proximity, keeping your attention on the cups in his hands in an effort to keep your thoughts in order.

“Shit, it’s cold,” he grumbles. “I swear it was just fall.”

Don’t say it, don't say it, don't say it- “You could always light yourself on fire again.”

Sukuna’s face deadpans. “Play your games, brat. I’m more than happy to have your drink,” he sneers, ducking his head back out of his window and into the cold as he attempts to turn away.

“Wait wait wait!” You giggle, reaching out to tug him back into the window as you pull on his coat sleeve. He scowls at you, letting you pull him back into the heat of your car despite his grumpy demeanor.

“D’you want your drink or not?” He grumbles, holding one of the cups out a bit further.

Curiously, you take it from him, smiling as it warms your hands. Bringing the cup up to your lips, you cautiously take a sip, your tongue swiping your lips when you pull it back to look at it with a crease between your brow.

“How’d you know my exact order?” You ask, wracking your brain for if you had told him at some point.

“I’m just that good,” he smirks, taking a sip of his own drink that smells like the most caffeinated black coffee you’ve ever bore witness to.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Sukuna clearly isn’t about to let you in on his secret. With a soft sigh, you resign yourself to not knowing.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

He grunts in reply, taking another sip of his overpoweringly aromatic coffee.

“Are you gonna come study?” You query as you set your drink down in a cup holder to zip up your coat and pull your backpack up over your shoulder. Sukuna backs away from the door as you get out of your car and grab your drink.

“Nah, gotta turn in a paper.”

“See you at lunch, then?” You tilt your head to get a better view of Sukuna towering over you.

He grimaces, a muscle in his jaw tensing. “Suppose so.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” you tease.

“Can’t say I’m lookin’ forward to getting torn apart by your friends.” He takes a sip of his coffee, tucking his other hand into his pocket to fiddle with his lighter, though he’s careful not to start a fire this time.

“I’ll talk to them. It won’t be that bad,” you promise, giving him your best reassuring smile.

Sukuna pauses to examine your expression, his gaze flickering between your eyes and down to your smile. He knows you well enough to spot the crack in your facade, the barely-there flash of doubt in your eyes that tells him that your friends won’t forgive him so easily, but he owes you regardless, so he doesn’t have much of a choice at the end of the day but to trust you.

And trust you, he does. He’s not sure what it is about your calming presence and sunny demeanor, but you seem to pull the best from him and even in the turmoil that his life has become, he finds himself seeking that familiar warmth.

It’s for that reason that he’ll bear whatever it is that your friends deem a necessary punishment for him, even if it irks him.

He hums in reply, glancing down at his watch as he sets the thought aside. “Gotta go. Later,” he says abruptly as he turns to leave in usual Sukuna fashion.

“See you later, thanks for the drink!”

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk before throwing his hood up over his head and trudging off into the snow. You follow suit, pulling your hood up with a shiver as the wind whips around you, reminding you just what season it is. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you jog towards the library and barge through the doors with as much poise as you can muster given the cold you’ve just run from.

Shoko’s head lifts from her book as you approach the table where she and Kento are hunched over their textbooks while Haibara is typing away on his laptop. With a huff, you take a seat across from Shoko and beside Kento.

“I can’t believe it got this cold and snowy so quickly,” you whisper, shivering as you toss your coat over the back of the chair.

“Welcome to winter,” Shoko sighs, fiddling with a coffee cup that matches your own.

“Oh!” Haibara looks up from his laptop with a pleased expression. “Good, you did get your drink!”

With a tilt of your head, you hold the paper cup out in front of you, glancing around the table as you realize all three of them have matching cups to yours.

“Yeah, um, Sukuna brought it for me,” you smile, bringing the cup towards your chest as if the thought makes you starstruck. Maybe it does, just a bit.

“I ran into him at the cafe. He actually came up and said hi, would you believe that? I mean, he just wanted your order, but I thought it was pretty nice for him.” Haibara beams, leaning back in his chair with a bright smile that you share. Kento and Shoko exchange a less enthusiastic glance, privy to information Haibara doesn’t have on your former project partner.

“That explains how he got my order right,” you giggle to yourself, pleased when Haibara laughs along with you. Maybe it’ll be good to have him at your side for lunch today to break the tension between Sukuna and your friends. “Oh yeah, he’s gonna join us for lunch.”

With Haibara sitting at the table, Kento and Shoko keep their mouths shut, but their displeasure doesn’t need to be voiced based on the frowns you receive.

“Can we talk, actually?” Shoko speaks up, pushing herself up from the table.

Your heart drops, but you nod, gingerly following as she leads you into the hall outside the library. It’s dead quiet, even more so than the library itself which was filled with the sounds of paper turning and pens scratching. Now, the silence seems to close in on you as your closest friend turns to you with an exasperated sigh.

“Listen girl, you know I love you.”

“That’s just about the worst start to this I could have hoped for,” you joke with a nervous laugh in hopes of lightening the mood.

Shoko smiles. “I promise it’s not that bad. I’m just worried and I won’t sit by with Kento and watch while Sukuna breaks your heart. Once is a mistake, but twice?”

The guilty look on your face causes her to sigh again, but before you can give her a better explanation, she continues.

“You’re too forgiving for your own good sometimes and I know you didn’t want to mention the kids to Kento, but can you at least tell me what his excuse was? I just want to make sure he isn’t taking advantage of you.”

You chew on your lip, knowing your explanation won’t help Sukuna’s case. “Well, he hasn’t exactly told me, but-”

“He hasn’t told you?” She parrots with a raised brow, rubbing her temple.

“Wait, wait, just listen!” You plead, grabbing her shoulders. “He told me there was an emergency with the kids and he doesn’t want me involved in it. I told him this is his last chance and he’s trying, Sho.”

She grimaces, the gears turning in her mind as she weighs her opinions on him based only on what you’ve told her. “You better have meant it when you told him this is his last chance,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate but that doesn’t give him any excuse to treat you like you’re disposable.”

“I won’t let him,” you promise. “And he won’t,” you assure her. He hasn’t gained the entirety of your trust back, but you can see that he’s putting in a notable effort to earn it and you want so badly to believe that the Sukuna you’re getting to know will stick around.

In all honesty, you think the begrudgingly kind and thoughtful version of him you’re getting to know is the real Sukuna, beneath the layers of grumpiness and stress and anger that go hand-in-hand with that warmth that he seldom shows around others. Hardened by a life that’s been nothing but tough on him, you’re privy to another side of him. One that has a good time teasing and making jokes, who enjoys music, movies, and video games and has a love for art. Sure, he’s still got an attitude and a penchant for being easily annoyed (and annoying), but behind all those walls is a person that anyone would be happy to spend time with.

He just needs a little bit of help and some rest to show that side of himself, help that he has a hard time accepting over his pride.

With a deep sigh, Shoko resigns to your beseeching. “You really like him, huh?”

Your cheeks warm, unable to hide the smile that finds its way to your lips, although you don’t respond. She has her answer in the form of your giddy smile as you shuffle from one foot to the other.

“I’ve never seen you like this before. The heart wants what it wants, I guess.”

“So you’ll give him a chance at lunch today?” You plead, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

She takes a moment to consider your words before dramatically rolling her eyes as she pulls you in for a hug. “One wrong move and I’m whooping his ass.”

“I won’t stop you, promise.”

She pulls back and begins heading back to the library. “He’s been helping you with History, right? Can we go over that? I’m so behind,” she whispers as she crosses into the library. The sound of pages turning and pencils scribbling is a relief in comparison to the silence of the empty reading week halls.

“Sounds good!”

–

With a shiver, you brush the snow from your jacket as you make your way into the lunch hall, unzipping it as you’re met with warm air. There’s a few more students around than there has been the last few days, likely the result of the power going out in some of the dorms from the whispers you’d been hearing.

Making your way to your usual table, you pull out some leftovers from a couple of nights ago and make your way to the microwave.

When you return to your seat, the table has gained an air of awkwardness that you suppose you were expecting, and Sukuna is seated to the right of your chair. Haibara seems to be doing what he can to mediate the table and Shoko’s half-hearted replies are better than nothing, at the very least. Kento seems less than pleased, but he’s entertaining Haibara if nothing else.

“Hey!” You beam at Sukuna. His gaze flickers up to you and he nods in reply. The rest of the table seems to relax at your arrival, but the tension remains palpable. Tough crowd.

Taking a seat beside Sukuna, you turn to him as Shoko and Haibara talk about something they watched the night before, entertaining Kento with the drama of it all. “How did turning in your paper go?” You ask the tattooed man who’s leaning against his knuckles, propped up by his elbow on the table.

He yawns before he replies. “Fine. Should get a good grade,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m glad,” you smile, taking a bite of your lunch. “Did you bring anything to eat?”

“Yeah, leftovers from last night.” With a grunt, he leans down to his bag as though it took a nominal amount of effort, pulling a container from his bag. Setting the container down, he sighs heavily.

With a sympathetic smile, you lower your voice. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face as he glances around the table to make sure no one’s listening. “Cho’s been having nightmares and it’s catchin’ up with me.”

“Aww,” you pout. “Poor kid.”

“He’ll be alright,” Sukuna assures you, or at least you think he’s assuring you. “They both will.”

You purse your lips, examining the distance in his sunken eyes. You may be sitting beside him, but there’s a strange feeling that you’re watching him from outside, as though there’s a barrier of glass between you. Before you can question him any further, he changes the subject.

“How’s studying for History goin’?” He casts a glance at Shoko, just long enough to catch her eye and invite her into the conversation. It’s small, but it is a noticeable effort from Sukuna to include her.

“We were just going through it, actually. I feel way better about that final already,” you smile, eyes bright as you exchange a glance with Shoko.

Her cautious gaze softens and she nods in agreement. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“Mm.” Sukuna hums, turning towards you with a smirk. “So if I ask about the Berlin Blockade-”

“Oh no,” you groan.

“- you can tell me how many air corridors the Soviets granted for cargo and trades and where they were granted to?”

Sukuna’s pretty sure he sees your eyes glaze over in dread and confusion from just one question, as though your confidence has fizzled out. He chuckles, amused.

“One question at a time. D’ya remember how many air corridors there were?”

You sigh. “This isn’t what I was hoping for when I invited you for lunch,” you grumble as you pull your history textbook out. “Three. There were three.”

“Good. Where were they granted to?”

“Um…” you take a deep breath, wracking your brain for information. “Frankfurt.”

“Mhm.”

“Hamburg.”

“Good.”

You chew on your lip, peering over at him with a blank stare that tells him you haven’t the faintest clue.

“Open your textbook,” he instructs.

You flip to the chapter about the Cold War, searching for information about the Berlin Blockade. Your eyes scan the pages and eventually come across all three locations. “Bückeberg.”

“Good. Who was the foreign minister at the time?”

The look you shoot Sukuna is too cute. You look completely and utterly lost, immediately searching your textbook. “Vyacheslav Molotov,” you reply after a moment, pointing at a black and gray photo of a man.

“Yes,” Sukuna agrees, reaching for your hand. His fingers are rough and calloused when he wraps them around yours, moving your hand an inch to the left to a different photo. “But you pointed at Stalin.”

“O- oh.” You tear your gaze from his much larger hand wrapped around yours to the two photos, using every shred of willpower you can muster to commit the photos to memory. Whether it’s because you’re burnt out on studying, or because the size of Sukuna’s hand is sending your mind reeling to places you’re not willing to admit aloud, your heart is pounding and you can only pray Sukuna’s fingers aren’t low enough on your wrist to feel your pulse. “My bad,” you barely manage to whisper.

Sukuna pulls his hand back, laying it next to yours on the table. “You were close,” he shrugs, not thinking much of it.

With a sharp intake of breath to clear your head, you pull your notebook aside and write down the answers you missed. “I should know this by now,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. Barely audibly, you tack on, “we’ve studied so much.”

Sukuna arches a brow, thoughtfully looking down at you. “It’s not a big deal. You actually know the history itself well, you’re just bad with names, dates, and faces.”

With pursed lips, you give him your attention, considering his words for a moment.

“What’s the reason for the Berlin Blockade?” He quizzes.

“To weaken Germany,” you reply without a moment’s thought.

He smirks, nudging your shoulder and keeping in close proximity with you. “See, you’re fine. That’s why I’ve been quizzin’ you on the more important shit.”

“I guess you’re right. Won’t there be a lot of names on the test though?”

“Nah. It’s like a seventy-thirty split,” he shrugs.

“Thirty’s a lot,” you mumble, your face falling at the thought of getting a seventy, and that’s only if you get a perfect score across every other question.

“Seventy is a lot,” he corrects, a playful smirk slathered across his lips. “Or are you a princess about your grades?” He teases as his lips turn up into a grin.

You force a smile, entertaining his teasing. “I know you’re right, but-” you pause, looking up into those striking crimson irises. He’s so close to you and regards you with so much mirth that your breath unintentionally hitches in your throat. “- um,” you continue shakily, “I could lose my scholarship if my grades aren’t good enough.”

Sukuna’s eyes briefly widen. “You’re on a scholarship?”

“Yeah, I need higher than a seventy on this final.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Alright then, princess. We’ll aim higher.”

Did your mouth just go dry from one word? God are you really in that deep?

“Thanks, Kuna.” You nudge him back, earning you another entirely too handsome grin.

“Mm.” His grin falters at the nickname, but he forces down his disdain for it.

You’re so caught up in your conversation with Sukuna, that you don’t see Haibara kick Kento and Shoko from under the table and direct their attention to your interactions with Sukuna. Even stoic Kento who was beyond pissed with Sukuna can’t deny that the sight could weaken even the hardest resolve against the man.

–

“I don’t WANNA!”

You lower your fist from Sukuna’s door the following night, pausing at the chaos from within his apartment. The anger and frustration just beyond the door is practically bursting out into the hall and you’re sure the moment it opens, it’ll metaphorically slap you in the face. Taking in a sharp breath, you raise your hand again.

“I won’t ask again,” comes Sukuna’s raised voice, straining to keep his anger down.

… And now you can hear sobbing.

You softly tap your knuckles against the door, half expecting to need to wait for someone to let you in but Sukuna swings the door open immediately. It slams shut behind you once you’ve cleared the entryway and the scene inside is equally as ugly as it sounds.

Choso is nowhere to be seen, Yuji is in tears and Sukuna is about to blow a gasket.

Oh boy.

“What’s- um-” You pause, debating whether you should even ask. “- Going on?” You question mousily.

“Go on brat, what’s going on?” Sukuna hisses, his chest rising and falling as fury courses through his veins.

Yuji’s too busy sobbing to reply, shaking his head adamantly as he wipes at his face, snot running down his chin.

“Fucking christ,” Sukuna mutters, exasperated. He runs a hand through his pink hair, turning on his heel away from the scene in an effort to keep calm. Whatever patience he’d had for this had run dry during their walk home from school and with the mess his life had become, he was already worn extremely thin.

As Yuji continues to bawl and Sukuna leans over the kitchen counter gathering himself, you decide to step in.

You make your way across the living room to Yuji, kneeling down in front of him. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your voice is gentle and you offer a sympathetic smile. “Everything’s alright, don’t cry,” you soothe as you reach out and gently rub the sides of his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

Yuji nods adamantly, hiccuping through the tears as he reaches out for you. You pull him in for a tight hug, rubbing his back reassuringly. Sure to keep your voice soft and gentle, you give him a moment before speaking up.

“What happened, Yu?”

“K-Kuna’s-” sniffle. “- he’s m-making me get a-” Yuji’s voice breaks as the tears set in again. “A-” hiccup. “- needleeeeee.” He sobs into your shoulder, burying his face into your neck. You let out a breath at the realization that it’s just an argument that’s been blown completely out of proportion. Life was so much easier when the hardest thing you had to endure was vaccinations.

“I’m sorry honey,” you coo, continuing to rub his back. You let him sob into your shoulder before pulling back to look at him. At the sight of your face, so gentle and calm, he starts to sniffle more and less tears flow down his cheeks. “There you go,” you smile, noticing now that there’s a very crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Yuji wipes his face on his arm, his breath coming in short gasps as he slowly calms down.

“Can I see that?” You ask, holding your hand out.

“No,” he whines, holding it behind his back.

“Alright,” you smile again, deciding it’s best to reason with him.

You cast a glance back to Sukuna. His palms are splayed on the counter as he leans his weight over the surface, staring down at it. All of his muscles are tense as his back rises and falls steadily with each breath he uses to calm his own anger. They really are two sides of the same coin.

“Is your school doing vaccinations?”

Yuji nods.

“Is that your permission form?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you lying?”

He hesitates before nodding. You have to stifle a laugh at his completely shameless lie, your smile lopsided.

“Can we talk it through?” You ask, sitting cross-legged before Yuji.

He blinks a few times as he considers your question before plopping himself down on the floor in front of you. He glances down at the way you’re seated, following suit and setting his permission form juuust out of reach. Sneaky kid.

“Are you scared of needles?”

Yuji’s silent, thinking for a moment before he decidedly nods.

“Okay, that’s normal. Are you afraid it’ll hurt?” You query, tilting your head at him.

“It will,” he replies with an edge of certainty, sniffling.

“Maybe for a moment, but do you know what the needle’s for?”

“Um-” he wipes under his eyes, his face scrunching up in deep thought. “- no.”

“It’s so that you don’t get sick. Do you remember being sick the other week, sweetheart?”

“... yeah.” He continues to sniffle and wipe at his face, looking up at you between each movement as he waits for you to continue.

“Well, there’s sicknesses that are a lot worse than that, and your brother doesn’t want you to get them,” you explain, glancing back at the sound of Sukuna shuffling. He pushes himself up from the counter, listening as intently as Yuji is as he makes his way a short distance behind you. His disgruntled expression trains on the sight of you sitting alongside his little brother, but he’s silent. “Don’t you think it’s worth it to get poked for a moment and not get one of those sicknesses?”

Yuji’s gaze flickers between you and his older brother towering over both of you as he thinks about it. You give him all the time he needs, even as Sukuna’s foot begins tapping impatiently. He’s an adult, he can wait. “I guess,” Yuji finally agrees, averting his gaze.

“Do you think you can be brave for me and get a needle, then?” You ask, your gentle smile remaining in place the whole time.

It takes a moment, but Yuji nods.

“Can I have that paper, Yu?”

He gingerly reaches behind him and passes you the crumpled paper. Tilting your head up to Sukuna, you pass it up to him. He walks over to the table, signs it, and returns it to Yuji.

“You better give this to your teacher,” he growls as he hands it back to Yuji. The little boy frowns, staring down at the ground in shame as he sniffles. Tears threaten his eyes again and you sigh.

“Sukuna, please,” your tone is soft with him as well, pleading for understanding between the two.

A muscle in his jaw tightens as his frustrated gaze zeros in on you, but he second-guesses whatever snappy words are about to spill from his lips, choosing instead to keep his mouth shut. His lips press into a thin line, furiously glaring at you and Yuji.

“Can you promise your brother, sweetheart?”

He’s still quietly sniffling as he nods, unable to look either of you in the eye. You let out a soft sigh, rubbing at the crease between your brows. At least they’d come to some kind of peace, even if Sukuna is audibly huffing behind you while Yuji sniffles.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you offer a hand to Yuji, who takes it and lets you drag (yes, drag) him back up to his feet, quietly fiddling with the hem of his Sonic the Hedgehog shirt.

With a glance at Sukuna, clad in a plain white V-neck and sweatpants, you catch a glimpse of his tattoos and an idea pops into your mind. “You know, Yuji, your brother is super brave.”

The little boy’s head tilts in a silent question, just as Sukuna is looking at you with arms crossed over his chest. You take a step towards the older of the two brothers, avoiding his gaze to conceal your racing heart. Gingerly, you reach for his wrist and tug lightly on it. His lip twitches in a frown as he stays soundly in place, relenting finally when you tilt your head.

Fuck, it’s cute when you do that.

He lets you pull his wrist down towards Yuji, his expression unchanging as you point out his tattoos. “Your brother got thousands of needles for his tattoos, did you know that?” Your thumb rubs circles into Sukuna’s skin and he wonders if you know you’re doing it at all, his full attention trained on the action. Whether consciously or not, you seem to be trying to soothe him, and the fact that it’s working only further complicates the feelings bubbling in Sukuna’s chest.

Yuji peers up nervously with reddened eyes and puffy cheeks at his older brother. “Really?” He rasps quietly, his voice strained from crying.

“That’s right,” you grin. “Can you be brave like your brother?”

Yuji reaches out and presses a finger to Sukuna’s wrist, as if feeling for raised skin, only to find it’s smooth. “Like Kuna,” he nods in agreement, showing you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen through his tear-stained face.

“Like Kuna,” you agree, rustling the little boy’s salmon hair. He smiles more happily now, running off with his permission slip to slide it into his backpack.

Sukuna lets out a long breath as you drop his wrist. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Need to cry it out in my arms, too?” You tease with a grin.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Even as he rolls his eyes at you, you catch the short exhale of breath from his nose reminiscent of a laugh.

“The offer stands,” you shrug cheekily, heading over to the table to set your bag down. You pull your history textbook out, alongside your notebook and some cue cards you prepared after submitting your paper last night. You skimmed through your textbook to put together cue cards with names, dates, and locations and their relations to historic events after Sukuna had pointed out that you seem to have the rest of the subject down.

Setting everything across the table, you peer over your shoulder at Sukuna’s distant gaze. You’ve seen this expression on him before, a forlorn glaze over his eyes as though he’s not present, completely lost in thought.

“Are you okay?”

Sukuna blinks twice, coming back to the present. A knot forms between his brows, as though he’s offended you might suggest he isn’t. “‘M fine.”

He’s lying, but you have no right to the truth, so you accept it with a nod.

No longer distracted, he runs a hand through his spiked hair, pushing a few loose strands back off of his forehead. His attention returns fully to you, though with a glance down at your white blouse, he wrinkles his nose.

“What?” You ask, looking down only to find yourself mirroring his expression. “Oh.”

Your blouse is a downright mess of snot and tears and while the tears will dry… well the same can’t be said for the snot. You frown, heading to the sink to wet a washcloth.

“Don’t bother,” Sukuna grumbles, striding into a room down the hall that you assume is his. He re-emerges a moment later with the first shirt he could find that doesn’t have the sleeves cut off. You reach out for the material as he tosses it to you.

“Thanks,” you smile, a faint heat rising to your cheeks at the prospect of wearing his shirt. Ducking away quickly to the washroom, you pull your blouse over your head and replace it with the black T-shirt, looking down at the material flowing over your body and thighs. You can’t help but giggle at the sight while Sukuna’s scent invades your senses, a comforting smokey and woodsy smell that makes you dizzy.

Straightening the shirt over your body, you nod to yourself in the mirror before re-emerging into the main living space. You can make out Sukuna’s form leaning over the balcony railing with no jacket on, even in the freezing weather. He catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, taking a long final drag from his cigarette before he stubs it out in an ashtray and steps back inside.

“I think it’s a little big on me,” you giggle in reference to the shirt, cheeks remaining warm as you gingerly link your hands behind your back, rocking forward and back on your heel.

The tattooed man’s eyes trail the length of your body, the red of his irises disappearing as he does so. You cross your arms over yourself, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his sharp gaze.

He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, well. I’m six foot eleven, and you’re fuckin’ short.” He averts his gaze, willing his dick not to react right now. He’s already well aware of his attraction to you, and he’s sure that if he just found the time to get laid he could bury that feeling. What’s more important is that he considers you to be someone genuinely important in his life, regardless of the fact that he can’t give you a label. He’s not about to jeopardize whatever he has with you because of how hot you are and how much his dick is well aware of it.

He’s seen the looks you give him, too. Every hitch of your breath, every nervous glance away from him. He knows there’s a mutual attraction between you, but it’s one that no matter how much his sex drive seems to disagree, he knows he can’t pursue. There’s more to your connection than sex, and one night isn’t worth the effort he’s put into fixing things with you.

He can’t put a name to that connection, but he values it regardless.

“Type… O Negative?” You interrupt Sukuna’s thoughts, reading the bold green logo on the shirt as your eyes trace the heart monitor logo in matching green beneath the text. Most of the band shirts he wears have logos with the most bizarre font they’re nearly unreadable, so you can’t help but wonder if this is even a band at all. Meeting his gaze again, you tilt your head.

Sukuna’s cock twitches in his sweats. Shit, he should have worn jeans. He coughs into his elbow, leaning back against the table in an effort to hide his growing need. “They’re a band.”

“Oh, cool!” You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

Getting up suddenly, Sukuna mutters something about needing to get ready for work and saunters off, leaving you standing by the table alone. You shrug it off, attempting to roll up the sleeves of the shirt and tuck it into the waistband of your leggings as best as you can in the hopes of making yourself look less like you’re in pajamas. Once you’re satisfied with the best look you think you can pull off, you take a seat at the table and begin putting together your cue cards.

Throwing yourself into your studies, you begin going through your cue cards in silence until Sukuna returns a short while later. The locks over his forehead are damp and he’s in a clean set of navy coveralls when he sits at the table beside you.

“What leaders made an effort to end the Cold War?” He quizzes, leaning over the table without so much as a glance at your cue cards.

“Reagan!”

“And?”

“Um- Gorbachev…?”

“Atta girl,” Sukuna smirks, giving your shoulder a light shove as your eyes light up, cheeks noticeably warm.

“Thank god I’m getting somewhere with all this studying,” you chuckle to yourself, straightening your cue cards. “I’m so burnt out on schoolwork,” you sigh, dropping the cards to the table.

“Why not take a break then?” Sukuna asks through a yawn.

“I can’t,” you frown, offering no further explanation. His brow arches questioningly. “I still need your help.”

His eyes flicker between yours, before dropping to your cue cards. “No ya don’t. You know the material and you’ve got cue cards for the shit you don’t remember. You’re set.”

You follow his gaze to the colorful cards with your handwriting scrawled over them in black ink. “You think so?”

“‘Course. You’re smarter than I am.”

The burly man leans forward over the table on his palm, yawning as silence sets in while you glance over your study materials. It doesn’t take long before you realize he’s in a trance, staring blankly straight ahead with a familiar distant expression.

Frowning, you have to resist the urge to reach out and pull him towards you. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with his brothers, but something about the idea of pulling him into a comforting hug feels right.

As though your body is actively working against you, your hand instinctively reaches for him. Sukuna’s gaze reflexively locks onto your hand that rests on his bicep, rubbing his tensed arm. A muscle works in his jaw as his irises flit up to you, something unreadable gleaming in his intense stare.

At the realization that you did reach out after all, you hesitantly pull back, somewhat surprised he didn’t smack your hand away in irritation. “Sorry, I…” But you have no excuse, so you trail off, awaiting his reaction.

Sukuna makes a show out of rolling his eyes, using his free hand to pull your hand back down to his bicep before leaning forward over the table and resting his chin over his elbow. He yawns again, his muscles slowly relaxing beneath your hand. You smile softly as Sukuna accepts your comfort, accepts you, and simply enjoy the comfortable silence while you use your spare hand to go through your cue cards.

His eyes are heavy as he stares blankly out the window opposite the table, the lull of sleep threatening to pull him under. As much as Sukuna hates to admit it, there’s little more tempting as of late than simply sleeping through his problems, and his mind goes blank as he eventually gives in to the temptation.

Sukuna’s breathing steadies beneath your hand, and you count your blessings that you’ve watched the kids during this shift before and you know that he has twenty minutes before he needs to leave. It might be the first time you’ve seen Sukuna completely relaxed, his jaw slack and shoulders loose. Pink strands of hair fall over his forehead, his lips only slightly parted as he breathes softly.

You gently rub circles into his arm, smiling softly at just how comfortable he’s grown with you. It touches you to see him able to simply be around you in such a way. Although you’d be lying to say you don’t want more than what you have with him, you’re grateful you have anything at all given his icy disposition. You’ve come a long way from the one-word answers and constant frustration.

Even if it’s always under the guise of an equivalent exchange, you’re glad he allows you to help him. Ever since you’ve been watching his little brothers more, he doesn’t seem as tired all the time (not that this particular moment proves that point), and you’re seeing more and more glimpses of the side of him most don’t get to see.

Your heart does a flip as his muscles twitch in his sleep beneath your fingers. He’s always trusted you on a relatively surface-level given that he lets you watch his brothers, but falling asleep under your touch is a surprising level of intimacy and reliance.

It’s a shame that twenty minutes passes so fast as you squeeze his arm in an effort to wake him.

“Stop,” he grumbles, swatting your hand away. Well, the peace can’t last forever you suppose. You give him another shake, which he certainly doesn’t appreciate. “What’d I just fuckin’ say?”

“You have work soon, Sukuna,” you giggle, giving him another shove. He cracks an eye open, his brow pulled down in a grumpy frown. He lifts his head slowly, squinting groggily at you with the imprint of the fabric of his coveralls on his cheek. You have to suppress another giggle at the disheveled glower being thrown at you.

“Fuck me,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulders before he pushes himself up from the table. He pushes his hair from his forehead and saunters around the apartment as he gathers what he needs before throwing on his coat.

“Oh, hey, where’s Choso?” You query as Sukuna fiddles with his keys.

He shrugs. “In his room, probably. He doesn’t like when Yuji cries.”

That makes sense from what you know of the middle sibling.

“Oh. He has homework due, can you make sure he does it?” Sukuna asks as he opens the front door. You nod. “I owe you one.”

Never a thank you with Sukuna, always him owing you.

“See you later, Kuna!”

The door shuts behind him and you let out a sigh, going to check on the two young boys. You knock on the door that’s slightly ajar, poking your head into their room when Yuji tells you to come in. There’s a mess of colored threads, strings, and beads strewn over a desk that they’re both crowded around, while Choso’s homework is buried beneath the mess of craft supplies.

Yuji hops off the chair and opens the door wider for you. Grinning, you let him tug you over to their table. Standing behind them both, you peer at what looks like a pile of (attempted) bead lizards with feet that don’t quite make sense.

“How are you both doing?” You figure after the tension when you walked into the apartment, they could probably use the opportunity to do a mental check-in with you. It’s not like Sukuna would be up for it, so you may as well try with his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says as he fiddles with thread, not looking up from the very important lopsided lizard in his tiny hands. His tongue pokes out from the side of his mouth as he focuses on his craft.

“I know Yu, Kuna just has a lot going on right now. It’s okay,” you rub his back gently before turning your attention to his brother, “Choso?”

The dark-haired brother chews on his lip as he slides beads onto a thread. “I’m okay. I don’t like when they fight.” Deep in thought, his movements pause before he pulls two threads tight to keep the beads from falling off and sets a purple lizard head on the desk. “Um- I found this.”

He shoves some stray threads aside and hands you a familiar corner of paper addressed to his older brother adorned with a law firm logo. “I saw this,” you tell Choso, rounding the table to his side in an attempt to keep his brother from being involved. It’s not like he’s old enough to understand either way. “Do you know anything about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Me either,” you tell him. “If your brother wants to tell me, then he will. I’m sure everything’s okay,” you reassure despite not being so sure yourself. Sukuna is strong-willed, smart, and beyond capable. Most could never manage what he’s pulling off, but a lawsuit is another issue entirely. Sukuna’s got a mouth on him and a penchant for fighting if the rumors are true, so you can only imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Choso picks his lizard back up, sliding three purple beads onto one side of the string. “Okay.” He threads the other side back through the beads and pulls the string tight to keep them in place. “I trust you.”

You smile, ruffling his hair. “Do you need help with the feet?” You ask with a glance at the lizards with lopsided and mismatched feet.

“Please!”

“Yes!”

You can worry about Choso’s homework in a bit. For now, you think both kids could use some time relaxing and doing some crafts as you pull up a chair.

–

Sukuna drags a hand down his face as he enters his apartment to the sound of two kids who are still very awake. Excited screams fill the apartment, alongside your saccharine voice that he can only assume is attempting to corral the kids based on your stern tone.

Dropping his keys on the table at the door, he kicks his boots to the side and shrugs his coat off, ready for a shower and dead silence alone in his room more than anything. He trudges tiredly towards the washroom, his lips twitching into a frown as Yuji goes bolting past him, followed closely by Choso.

“Go to bed, brats!” He hisses, his voice gruff with irritation as he makes his way to the washroom.

You barely manage to see the door closing behind your friend as you trail after the two boys, who’ve been balls of energy all night since Choso finished his homework. It’s sweet, of course, but your burnt out mind wasn’t prepared for them to have this much energy when you agreed to watch them.

As both boys turn and come barreling past you, you barely manage to catch Yuji and hoist him up into your arms, effectively stopping their game of tag.

“Nooooooooo!!” Yuji cries out between excited giggles. Choso skids to a halt in front of you with a disappointed frown.

“Come on, kiddos. You have school tomorrow, it’s bedtime.”

You’re met with a chorus of whines and sighs as you carry Yuji to their room. Choso trails close behind, pouting as you instruct them to get ready for bed. You help Yuji with pulling his hoodie over his head and choosing a pair of pajamas before giving them time to finish getting ready.

Yuji bursts from the door in a fit of giggles, running towards the cracked door of Sukuna’s room. “Yuji, come on it’s bedti-” you call after him as you follow him through the cracked door, eyes widening at the sight of Sukuna shirtless, his hair damp and hanging over his forehead. He must have finished his shower while you were trying to get his brothers to calm down. He shoots both of you an irritated snarl, his lip curled in frustration. “Sorry!” You squeak out, corralling Yuji out the door before Sukuna can bark out an order to get out of his room.

Your heart pounds, mind distant as you manage to get both kids into bed and read them Green Eggs and Ham. Once they’ve settled and you’re certain they’ll get some rest, you’re able to leave their room with a sigh, heading back to the main living space of the apartment, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to have made his way out of his room yet.

He doesn’t seem to be in the greatest mood and you consider taking your leave without a word, but figure that’s probably more rude than simply knocking on his door. Deciding to do exactly that, you make your way over to his bedroom and lightly tap his door with your knuckles.

“Come in.”

You push the door open, standing stiffly just within the frame. His room is decorated fairly dark with blacks, grays, and reds, only the dim light of a single lamp illuminating the room enough to be seen. There’s a desk pushed to one end of the room covered in workout gear, books, and various art supplies and a pile of clothes tossed over the desk chair, while his wardrobe off to the right is covered in hygiene supplies with only a single photo that you can’t make out in the relative dark. The light from his bedside lamp hardly illuminates the posters and art on his walls, which seem to be a variety of band posters, horror film posters, and his own art. There’s a drafting table opposite his wardrobe absolutely plastered in art supplies as well, with charcoal smeared over the wood.

“You just gonna stand there lookin’ like a fish outta water?” Sukuna asks from where he’s leaning against the headboard of his bed in the center of the room. His nose is buried in his laptop, the dull glow lighting up his features. Crimson irises gleam like deep drops of blood as you round the room, taking a look around as you realize he is genuinely inviting you in. As you step towards his wardrobe, your eyes train on the photo that you can now make out in the dim light.

There’s an older man with hair that matches Yuji and Sukuna’s standing to one side of the photo. Toddler Yuji is sound asleep with his head on the man’s shoulder, with Choso in the center in a graduation cap. You assume it must be an elementary school graduation or something of the sort. Sukuna stands much taller than everyone else in the photo at the back with a mild expression. He’s noticeably taller, with no facial tattoos although you can faintly make out his neck tattoos.

In the corner of the image, there’s a piece missing, and you can see that at one point there was a woman in the side of the photo, her dress visible behind Choso. Her face has been cut out of the photo and you can’t make out a single feature aside from the end of her hair. It looks fairly similar to Choso’s, long and dark. You figure this must be their parents, and Sukuna isn’t fond of his mother.

“He was a lot better with them.” You glance back at Sukuna as he shuts his laptop, setting it on his bedside table. It’s then that you realize he’s still shirtless, your gaze falling way too obviously down to his sculpted abdomen. He looks like a goddamn sculpture by Michaelangelo himself, made by a god in his craft. The peaks and valleys of his abs could make even the strongest person’s mouth water and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t a great effort to tear your gaze from his abs. Now’s not the time. Swallowing hard, you find his eyes.

Sukuna would usually smirk, finding amusement in your inability to keep your eyes on his face, but the can of worms he’s just opened isn’t one he approaches lightly. He’s willingly offering up a piece of his vulnerability to you, leaving the ball in your court.

“That’s your dad?” You ask, turning to look at the photo again.

“Mhm. He put in a lotta when their mom left to work in another country.”

“Their mom? You’re half-brothers, then?” You carefully approach the bed, taking a seat gingerly at the side.

“Yeah. Our dad sure knew how to pick ‘em.” There’s a story there for sure, but he’s already moving on before you can pry. “He knew how to handle the brats. They were happy.”

You slide further onto the bed, leaning against the headboard beside him. “They’re happy with you too, Sukuna.”

His eyes slowly slide down from the ceiling to meet your gaze. He contemplates your words for a moment, a forlorn sigh parting his lips. “It ain’t the same.”

You shuffle to face him, sitting cross-legged as you will your eyes to stay on his face. “Sukuna, you’re good with them. You care and you’re trying, that’s what matters.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Good with them, my ass.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You saw what happened earlier. Choso was afraid of me n’ Yuji was cryin’.” He drags his hand down his face. “Shit’s a disaster here. I’m never even home to look after ‘em.”

You blink as he airs his grievances with the world, with himself. “You’re joking, right?”

Sukuna’s head lolls dramatically towards you, face tense with frustration. “Do I look like I am, princess?”

A shiver runs up your spine but you keep your eyes (and mind) straight on his face. “Seriously, you are good with them. You’re allowed to be frustrated, just like Yuji’s allowed to be afraid. He’s a kid, he’s gonna make a big deal out of little things.” You offer a sympathetic smile. “And Choso’s not afraid of you. He’s worried about you.”

“Worried about what?” Sukuna’s face scrunches in confusion. “The fuck is a twelve-year-old doin’ worrying about me?”

You giggle at his brutish expression, diffusing his frustration. He blows a breath out through his lips, running a hand through his hair that’s gradually drying as you speak. The silence that envelops the both of you is calm, the lamp providing an air of warmth as you work through Sukuna’s worries. The soft orange glow of the bulb illuminates his features in such a handsome manner that it’s hard to sit next to him without stray thoughts.

“Choso may only be twelve, but he’s smart. He knows something’s off. We both do.”

His eyes shoot up, his stare intensifying. “Nothing’s off,” he growls sternly, as if trying to convince himself.

“So Yuji gets his lying habits from you, huh?” You tease, keeping your voice soft as you prod at his thigh.

“I’m not lying, fuck off with that,” he grouses, swatting your hand away. You quietly giggle to yourself again, paying no mind to his pointed stare.

“Was your dad this stubborn too?”

You’re not shocked that Sukuna’s response to your teasing is to roll his eyes, but he still entertains a response. “No. He was a teacher, he had the patience of a god.”

“That’s right, he was a history teacher, wasn’t he?”

“Mm.”

“Was he an artist too?”

“No. That’s all me.”

You slide up the bed, inching somewhat closer to him again as you lean back against the headrest, looking around the room at the art above his drafting table. “You’re a great artist, Kuna.”

He hums, following your gaze to the wall where he’s plastered anatomy practice and art of faceless figures. He doesn’t get much time to work on any art these days, but given the opportunity, he would certainly do it more.

His gaze drifts to your face, so calm and inquisitive in spite of his frosty and rough edges. You hardly seem bothered by anything he throws your way, accepting his relative rudeness in stride and he’s not sure he deserves that kindness. No, he knows he doesn’t. Still, sitting here with you, bathed in the soft light of his lamp, he finds himself seeking the comfort of your voice, so soft and understanding as you offer him genuine advice and listen to his gripes without belittling him.

You come from a world so obviously different from his, yet you never seem to see him as anything less than what he is. Hell, you see him as something more than he sees in himself, as much as he hates to admit it. Maybe that’s why he finds himself drawn to you. Maybe that’s why your absence caused him so much trouble.

In truth, he’s not so sure anymore.

There’s a lot he’s not so sure about anymore.

He basks in the silence, sighing deeply as he slumps further back against the headboard. “I think they might be better off in the hands of someone else.”

Your eyes widen, your head whipping over to stare at him. “What? You don’t seriously think that.”

“Do I sound like I’m making a fuckin’ joke?” He huffs, his jaw tense.

“Sukuna, you’re literally their hero. They look up to you more than you could ever imagine.”

He blanches, all signs of irritation dropped as his brow twitches and lips part. The expression on his face is unreadable, a mix of emotions that aren’t familiar on his chiselled features. With a sharp intake of breath, he shuts his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Kuna?”

“Gimme a moment, fuck.” His voice is muffled through his hands, remaining frozen as he lets out a long sigh. When he drops his hands from his face, he stares down at his lap with that same distant and solemn expression from earlier. You let the silence be at his request, giving him a chance to work through his jumbled thoughts.

Breathing in through his nose, he lets out a breath through pursed lips, his hand reaching for your leg as he squeezes the plush of your thigh. His jaw clenches as he clings to you like a lifeline, the only thing able to ground him and keep him from the thoughts that have been causing him to go through three times his usual dose of nicotine.

And fuck, he cannot afford to keep going through cigarettes at that rate.

Your mind is doing circles at the feeling of his touch on your leg of all places, the heat of his skin warming your leggings.

Blinking, you tilt your head to get a better view of him. “Where’s this all coming from anyway? What happened to the cocky asshole I met a couple of months ago?”

That seems to bring him back as he scowls at you, deflecting your question. “Really runnin’ your mouth for someone whose dinner came from my fridge.”

“Hey! I consider that payment for watching your brothers. Besides, my cooking is great. You should be happy I made you leftovers,” you pout.

He smirks, playfully squeezing your thigh and sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You swallow to keep yourself from having a noticeable reaction, keeping your attention on a non-descript area of the wall. “Who’s the cocky one now, princess?”

Even with his hand heavy on your thigh, his teasing is so normal that it almost makes you forget that the heat between your legs is begging for friction that you can’t chase because he would feel your thighs clench.

“What can I say? My cooking’s that good.”

“Your cooking ends up on my fucking floor most of the time.”

“The bread crumbs were one time, Sukuna,” you whine, playfully shaking your head.

“From you, maybe. Choso tried to copy your mac and cheese and even convinced my dumb ass he knew how to do it.” Sukuna scoffs, tilting his head towards you. The warmth of his breath fans your neck as he leans in. “D’you know what happened?” He asks, his voice lowered enough to make your heart flutter.

You wince. “Bread crumbs on the floor.”

“Bread crumbs on the fuckin’ floor.”

You bring a hand up to your face, giggling. To your surprise, Sukuna’s chest jolts in a single sputtered laugh, until he’s actually chuckling along with you. Not a smug laugh, not making fun of something, your laughter is contagious and his is genuine.

Comfortable silence finds you, simply enjoying one another’s company. The dull light in his lamp flickers, pulling both of your attention to the bulb on its last legs. Your eyes trail the length of his silhouette, admiring the way his tattoos frame his face. The dark contrast of the solid ink makes the crimson of his irises pop, giving his already sharp features a more deadly appearance.

Everything about him seems to signify a lethal edge; between the way he carries himself, shutting the world out and fending only for himself and his brothers, and his inclination towards frustration. Yet, every so often, you see another side to him, a side where the edges are softer and he seems more himself.

That’s not to say those rougher edges aren’t still there, but the calmer side of him rounds him out and makes his snark more endearing.

Sukuna’s the first to turn back from the lamp, gaze flickering between your eyes. His chest rises and falls, the quiet sounds of his breath punctuating the otherwise silent room.

Sukuna can hear your breath hitch when you realize he’s staring, using the opportunity to squeeze your thigh. It pulls a strangled gasp from deep in your chest and your eyes widen. He can’t help himself, the way your body reacts to him is like a narcotic, and he can’t help but want more.

There’s never been a moment since you met that Sukuna hasn’t known you find him attractive. It’s why he enjoys pushing your buttons so much, but when you slipped so easily alongside him in his personal life, you became something more than a quick fuck. Someone to keep around. Someone who betters him.

In the dim glow of his lamp, laid out on his bed with his palm splayed over your thigh like it belongs there, something deeper stirs within him. Lust, surely. Only lust. You’re in his goddamn shirt, and he’s hungry. He’s starved for the feeling of bare skin slapping against his own, and you’re so damn gorgeous, like a cloud to any amount of judgment he can manage.

And you’re no better. You’ve been biting your lip until it’s raw as you resist the urge to clench your thighs since he invited you in. Sukuna’s not a traditional man, in all of your daydreams and fantasies, you had never imagined him treating you to dinner and romantically confessing. You never had broad expectations for anything extravagant from him.

That’s not what you want from him. You just want him as he is. You want him to let you in, to let you help him find himself and find happiness.

The air around you is charged, crackling with anticipation as his barriers begin to degrade and you let out a shaky breath. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the bustling city so quiet you could hear a pin drop as its noise fades into the background.

Sukuna’s tongue swipes over his lower lip, all reason thrown to the wolves as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are commanding, guiding you towards one thing and one thing only: pleasure. He moves his body over top of yours, caging you beneath his muscular build. You’re so small under him and the control he exerts over you is exhilarating.

The kiss is sloppy, filled with desperation as he settles himself over you, letting his hands roam your body. You’re pliant beneath him, thrilling in the way his hands slide down your waist to your hips. His grip tightens, fingers holding you in-place almost bruisingly. Your pussy throbs, clenching around nothing as slick pools between your thighs.

Consequences be damned, you’re both addicted to the taste and feel of one another.

Sukuna softly bites your lower lip, pulling a whimper from deep in your throat. He smirks against your lips, pressing his hardened bulge against your core. He swallows your gasp, running his tongue along your lower lip as he seeks entrance. You grant him what he’s looking for, drunk on his taste, minty with a hint of smoke.

Sliding your hands up his tense arms, you find purchase in gripping his shoulders as your head spins. He rolls his hips again, revelling in the feel of your nails digging into his bare skin. Getting your bearings, you allow your hands to explore the expanse of his chest, roaming down the high peaks and deep valleys of his extremely pronounced abs. You pause at his waistband, unable to help your smirk as he groans, his abdomen tensing under your touch.

He’s desperate for more, pressing you further into the bed as his lips explore your jaw, dipping his head into your neck to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to grant him easier access, jaw slack and eyes glazed. His breath noticeably quickens when your fingers dip beneath his waistband, but you pause there.

You pull back suddenly, pushing hard against his chest as you practically have to peel him off of you.

“What’re-”

You slap a palm over his mouth, muffling the rest of his question until he can hear why you’ve paused. The sound of sock-clad footsteps on hardwood catches his attention and he quickly pulls away, putting enough distance between you to imply innocence. Sukuna pulls a pillow out from behind him, grunting as he sets it on his lap and leans his head back against the headboard.

Shortly after, the doorknob clicks and cracks open, a pair of golden-brown eyes peering into the room. Reddened and filled with tears, your mind sobers quickly as you hop off the bed and jog over to Choso to kneel before him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, taking in a breath to keep from panting.

“I had a nightmare.”

Ah. Sukuna had mentioned Choso had been having a lot of nightmares lately and it seemed to be keeping him up. You wonder if it’s related to his concerns regarding his older brother and the lawsuit. He may be young, but he seems to have a general understanding of the gravity of getting lawyers involved in situations.

Knowing what you know now about Sukuna’s family, you wonder if he’s been around lawyers before, given their father’s passing. Then there’s the question of Choso and Yuji’s mother, who’s clearly not in the picture anymore.

Quite literally.

You cast another glance back at Sukuna, whose chest is rising and falling heavily as he stares at the ceiling.

“That’s okay sweetheart, do you want me to come talk to you for a bit?”

Choso glances briefly at his brother before nodding. Smiling softly at him, you usher him out of the room and shut the door behind you, trailing after Sukuna’s little brother. He leads the way to his room, sitting on his bed.

Kneeling at the side of his bed, you keep your voice to a whisper to avoid waking his brother. “Did you want to talk about it, Cho?”

He considers this option for a moment, staring at his hands in his lap before shaking his head.

“That’s alright.” You smile reassuringly. “Your brother mentioned this has been happening a lot lately. I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need.”

Choso hesitates, staring down at his hands in his lap again, before shaking his head.

“That’s fine too. Do you want me to-”

“Chocho?” Yuji’s groggy voice sounds as he flips in his bed against the opposite wall, calling out your name as well.

“Go back to sleep, Yu. Your brother just had a nightmare,” you smile softly in the darkness of the room, your face illuminated only by a nightlight on the wall. You turn back to Choso. “Do you want me to read something until you fall back to sleep? I won’t let any monsters get you,” you reassure him with a grin.

Choso nods slowly.

“Great, what book?”

Choso peers over at the bookshelf, kicking his feet as he skims the titles on each spine. “I’ve already read all of these.”

Frowning, you tap your fingers on your thigh in thought. That had never stopped him from requesting Bridge to Terabithia before, but you suppose that’s neither here nor there at the moment.

What is with his taste in movies and books, why does he like the most heart wrenching titles?

“I could tell you a story,” you decide. Choso’s demeanor picks up as he nods eagerly, getting back in bed. You glance back at Yuji, who’s still quietly watching you. You suppose telling them a story won’t hurt. Pulling up a chair, you take a seat between the beds. “Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort. Which would only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle, guarded by a terrible fire breathing dragon.”

You do your best to focus on your story-telling, although sitting in the dark waiting for the kids to fall asleep as you try to recall the story, something stirs in the back of your mind.

Something dread-inducing and sobering.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined your first kiss with Sukuna, dreamt of it in the back of your mind and forcibly pushed it down. It only made sense that Sukuna’s flirting was mainly out of jest and teasing, so you had swallowed your feelings and been what Sukuna needed the most. A friend.

Now with the time to think clearly, it occurs to you that there was no spark, no fireworks, and no romance behind the way you kissed. Neither of you had been chasing anything beyond surface-level lust, and you’re just as guilty as he is.

It’s painful to think that the image you’d had in the back of your mind for so long isn’t the reality, but that’s life, isn’t it? You may get another side of Sukuna that most don’t, but at the end of the day, you suppose that doesn’t mean he shares the feelings you caught for him. You had every opportunity to clarify what you wanted from him, but instead you slipped your fingers under his waistband.

Fuck.

Your heart clenches, your chest tightening at the realization that your friendship with Sukuna could very easily hang by a thread because you both got caught up in one another.

“The ogre and the donkey travel to…” you trail off at the realization that both kids are sound asleep, slipping out of the room with a pit of dread in your stomach.

With a sharp intake of air, you let out a breath and quietly open Sukuna’s room door.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Sukuna hasn’t moved since you left the room.

Silence punctuates the air, the tension palpable and just as uncomfortable as you could have predicted. The friendship with Sukuna that you had worked so hard to nurture seems to hang precariously in the balance of discomfort and regret.

“Was that story fuckin’ Shrek?” Sukuna asks with narrowed eyes. It does little to quell the unease hanging low over your heads.

You laugh nervously. “Yeah. I didn’t know what story to tell.”

“Do you have the fuckin’ opening memorized?”

“I guess so,” you chuckle again, unable to meet his gaze. The silence spreads once again. “Um- I should go.”

Sukuna doesn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t have kissed you. He shouldn’t have grinded on you.

He doesn’t want to complicate something he doesn’t quite understand himself.

So why the hell does his stomach drop when those words leave your lips? Lips that were on his barely a half hour ago.

The uncertainty of where you sit with one another lies in the distance between you both. It settles like dust over a table left untouched for many years, yet it accumulated in only a few minutes. You want to reach out and find the answers you’re looking for, but you don’t have words.

What the hell are you supposed to say? You’ve hopelessly fallen for him and you don’t want whatever it is you have to end, even at the cost of unrequited feelings? No, Sukuna would push you away.

Sukuna doesn’t even attempt to clear the dust, he can only stare, wondering what’s going through your mind, because what’s going through his makes no sense to him.

Whatever it is that he’s feeling now, it’s a jumbled mess. It’s not the same distress he felt at the thought of you presenting alone and it’s not the lust he’d chased that left him with a painful erection.

Whatever he feels, it’s some sort of warning. Like an omen that he’s somehow fucked things up again with you, tearing a rift through the friendship that even he has worked hard to mend. He wonders if one heated kiss is enough to dissolve the effort he’d put into everything, if this changes what you had for good.

So why the hell are the next words to part his lips “yeah. See ya.”?

Watching you slip away, listening to you pack your belongings in a hurry and slip out the door without even a goodbye, Sukuna grits his teeth and slams his head back against the headboard. If the ground split open and swallowed him whole right now, he thinks he would prefer that to the sound of the front door shutting.

Fuck. Fuck, he did it again.

How many times would you let him fuck up your friendship before you deemed him not worth the time of day?

Shit, he hopes you’ll let him make it up to you once more, even if he’s not sure he deserves it.

What the hell was he thinking, anyway? Or, more likely, not thinking? Was he so driven by a need to wet his dick that he seeked out the one person he couldn’t bear to watch walk away from him?

Why is it that he can’t keep his mind clear when it comes to you?

Sukuna rubs his hands over his face. “Fuck.” Should he chase after you? No, no. He can’t have you thinking there’s any meaning behind his actions beyond whatever it was you already had.

And even he knows how fucked up of a thought that is, one that sits in the pit of his stomach like sour bile. He grimaces, blinking at the foreign feeling of guilt wrapping its ugly fingers tightly around him.

He pulls out his laptop, opening the email chain you’ve been using since the two of you met, but his fingers pause over the keyboard. What the hell is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry for kissing you’? ‘Sorry for thinking with my dick instead of my head’?

“Fuck,” he hisses, louder this time. Tossing his laptop on his bed, he trudges out into the living room, grabbing the broken cap of his lighter and its base from his coat pocket, and what’s left of his pack of cigarettes before standing out in the cold night air in only his sweatpants.

The nicotine hardly seems to make a dent in the toiling emotions tightening his chest and hollowing his stomach. He’s smoked his way through so many packs lately that the dent on his wallet and his reliance on the drug only seems to be growing, yet another pile of problems to add onto his list.

You’re the only thing that seems to quell his narcotic addiction, but you’ve got to be some sort of drug yourself with the way Sukuna behaves like a braindead dumbass around you.

Staring at the ember at the end of the cigarette in his hand, he sighs, leaning forward on the railing of the balcony. The cold doesn’t seem to touch him, like he’s numb to the world beyond his own issues.

Sukuna is a truly fucked man.

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❦ a/n ; poor sukuna and reader do nawwwt know how to make things easy on themselves 🙂‍↔️ thank you all so much for reading and for all the love and kind comments and asks, they seriously make my day and i'm so happy to chat with yall and hear your thoughts. shoutout as well to my reader who suggested a type o negative shirt cameo, this one's for you <33 reader is stronger than i am for not leaping on sukuna when he invited her into his room shirtless tbh. i am weak for him ANYWHO thaaank you as always and i hope you're all doing well <33

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