#thanks for askin friend!!
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Hey, what are Angel!Virgil’s thoughts on roman? Being a fallen Angel and whatnot. :)
HAH YOU SILLY GOOSE
Well Virgil of course is not fond of demons at all, its kind of is job to exterminate then, and Virgil automatically assumes that a demons are terrible evil people
This conflicts with how he views Roman, who was his friend, but now that hes a fallen angel/demon Virgil tries to believe Roman was always evil and wants to move on
So he dosent view roman as a friend anymore, to Virgil Roman is just a demon
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Hey, different post than usual, but this is just a PSA for people who may follow or have purchased anything from @/kagebros, or are looking to join any of the zines run by them @/allsparkzines. They have a history (and present) of tracing for profit.
I don’t think this one requires an overlay. It’s a trace of the yolopark bumblebee shockwave model kit promotional image, as a “sketch”.
Which they changed, once people noticed it! Changed most of it. They traced a different promotional image for the gun, which remained largely the same, even in the final piece (right).
Their matching Optimus Prime poster is a trace of the still from a [ Paramount promo video ], 36 seconds in.
There are several other examples that I can’t fit into this post without making it overly long, but if you have purchased or have been gifted anything from them, there is a chance it has been traced.
Regarding tracing as a tool:
Go hogwild! Trace all you want! Tracing is a very useful tool for learning shapes and forms, but like any other tool, it’s only useful if you use it correctly. The ultimate goal of tracing is to understand. It’s training wheels. Just don’t hide and lie about it, because as soon as you do, it becomes plagiarism.
Even within the finished versions of the Shockwave poster, it’s still clear where parts have been traced or copied without understanding. It’s a shame, because transformers as a franchise having so many toys makes it very easy to make references!
Here's an example of how I use them:
Luckily for me, the Cybertron toys and models are more or less exactly the same. I don't own the toys, so I have two images from a [ toy reviewer ] on top. Many angles to help me understand exactly what's happening. Granted, I could just ask my friend who does own the toy for him in the same pose, but tracing over that directly would make it too stiff and it wouldn't mesh with my style.
TL;DR: Kage traces, blindly and without disclosure, for profit.
#kagebros#not art#uh idk what to tag this#but watch out?#I'm sure plenty of their pieces aren't traced but really selling two posters with traced art as the centerpiece is a little... hm..#so sue me for being wary ig#take this as you will#edit: remember when I just thought it was two posters. better times#IGNORE HOW WIDE THE REF IMAGES ARE my friends and i were watching the 1080p upscale but for some reason the uploader fuckin#stretched the video out to fit the new aspect ratio instead of keepin it the og#but we didn't know? and didn't notice? until like. we were almost done#and then my friend was like hey guys uh they're not supposed to be this wide actually#uhhhh well thanks for reading if anyone read this to the end!#it's very disheartening to see ppl trace shit and then table with it like... what the hell am i doing then#edit: i also think my friend's cybertron optimus is buried under 50 boxes and askin him to move that much for a toy is a lil embarrassing#tfcon#tfcon baltimore
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*bothering you with a question and a statement*
Have you worn wigs. Will you wear wigs.
love to be bothered by you. ˆˆ
I have in fact worn wigs. And I will wear wigs again.
what about you?
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are you okay. you just reblogged like 50 c!quackity and or c!slime fanarts..
i miss him ^ (him). i miss him ^ (him) so fucking much
#i make yet anothet post just for me 👍#we have mail :]#im doing great ^_^ thanks for askin friend :D
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I like prankster, he’s very silly, a silly silly bird
here u go < 3
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What kind of people would twain not get along with? Any types of ppl he hates/can’t stand?
this is actually an interesting question because there's genuinely a lot of factors that go into what he is and isn't willing to tolerate from someone.
at large, he generally dislikes bigots and people who judge or condemn others based on a fact about themself that isn't harming anyone, but that's not really a good answer for a rpc that's largely devoid of such muses, is it? i'd say the best answer in that case is a warmonger---someone who craves violence on a large scale throughout countries or even the world. no matter what, that sort of thing is inexcusable to twain. also, someone who's hurt a person twain cares about already, though the hurt would have to be pretty bad.
the rest is circumstantial, honestly. twain doesn't generally like people who make others' lives difficult or kill meaninglessly, but that's only when he hasn't established a rapport with them first---if he's gotten to know them and then gets introduced to those unfortunate facts, he might be more willing to overlook them.
oh, and he generally bickers with and antagonizes people who believe strongly in law, rules, or any kind of order, but i wouldn't call that hatred, exactly. you can see why it's hard for me to have those kinds of relationships with muses.
unprompted. / accepting anytime!
#if someone he didn't know committed a baseless murder of course he would think it was evil and be biased against that person#but if it was a friend of his he'd probably acknowledge the evil and remain friends anyway#that's just the sort of person he is#i think that what you're askin' for just might make things worse. ⟹ ask.#for the love of understanding. ⟹ headcanons.#also; my first anon of the blog! thank you very much for asking!
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25 >:)
Astronaut by San Fermin babeyyyy
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Um hi!! So I know you’re a bit of a Monster Hunter fan and I was wondering, what weapon do you main? Recently got Rise and I’m having so much fun with the Hammer and Lance!
I’m your resident hunting horn guy always making weird noises cause those buffs are staying UP
#my friend uses hammer too so we constantly have that thing on the floor#thank u for reminding me I need to go back to mh I miss it man#askin
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❛ no one fucking understands me! ❜ (Akina probably shouting at the sky but Askin's nearby?)
sure he shouldn't mind the yells , sure he should be minding his own business , sure he shouldn't interfere much with soul reapers that could possibly kill him , sure he wasn't even meant to be in the world of the living just to relax and look at the sky .
and sure he wasn't supposed to hear that when he was supposed to be alone . maybe she thought she was alone too .
sure he won't understand what this girl is feeling but .. well , it doesn't hurt to talk or help and understood some .. soul reapers , right ? yeah his majesty gonna get mad but eh .
" what happened ? "
he said bluntly yet he meant no harm . he's keeping his distance despite him asking the question and acting friendly . he wasn't much of a friendly individual or an extrovert kind of person , he was more between of extrovert and introvert , he doesn't like being a crowd and more better off talking one on one .
#LES GOOOOOO#WE'RE GETTING MORE ASKIN INTERACTION RAHHHH#BITE UR KNEECAPS THANKS FOR THE ASK FRIEND!!#IC; 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚢; 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚊? 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕; 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙰𝙻 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎#apocalypta-secundus
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love & company - r. sukuna
❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]
❦ oneshot
❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞
❦ cw ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. friends to lovers. fluff. hurt/comfort. p in v. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). degradation (slut). choking. pet names (princess, brat, woman, girl). size kink. rough sex. unprotected. biting. hair pulling. manhandling. toxic relationship (not sukuna). manipulation (not sukuna). reckless driving. use of alcohol and cigarettes. reader is implied to be short/small mostly in comparison to sukuna but he's huge so. ooc warning for sukuna given that this is modern and i want him to be more realistically human. i probably got some of the bike information wrong.
❦ words ; 24.2k.
main masterlist || love & company masterlist
A cool evening wind chills your skin as you hunch over your bike on the side of the road. You’re thankful for your thick leather jacket to protect you from the brisk winds, but it doesn’t make it easy to work when your thoughts continue to stray to the fast-approaching night.
Your Kawasaki motorcycle puttered to a stop an hour ago and you’ve been on the side of the road ever since. Of course it would happen today of all days, where your patience runs thin and you want nothing more than to be curled up in bed.
Your small array of tools that you keep for times like these are finally proving useful, but you can hardly bring yourself to care as you run out of things to check. You’re almost certain the issue is a clogged fuel line at this point but without the necessary tools to check, you’re fresh out of ideas on what to do aside from calling a tow truck.
The sound of another passing motorbike is grating on your ears as someone speeds by on a bright red Ducati and you want to curse them out just for having a working bike, but to your surprise, they circle back a minute later and pull up next to you.
A broad-shouldered figure steps off the bike, pulling a dark helmet off and giving his head a shake, running a hand through his pink hair to give it a naturally windswept look. Tattoos line his sharp jaw and scars litter his right eye. Deep near-crimson eyes lock on you, a mildly cold expression spread over the tall man’s features. He’s just about the textbook definition of what you would think of as a ‘bad boy’.
He looks you over before taking in the state of your bike. The sight of you covered in grease and oil sitting in defeat on the ground is amusing to him to say the least- you don’t much look the part of a biker between your small figure and approachable stature but one look at your bike and attire tells him not to judge a book by its cover.
“Need a hand?”
Unfortunately for the tattooed man, he’s caught you in a bad mood.
“No,” you grumble, picking up your wrench and dipping back into a rhythm of checking everything.
“I’ve got more tools than just a wrench,” he offers. Your intense gaze looks him over again, surveying the black leather hanging off his shoulders and red helmet that matches his bike tucked under his elbow.
“I can handle myself,” you insist, not keen on accepting a stranger’s help, especially given his cold expression.
“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he retorts with a click of his tongue. “Just askin’ if you want a spanner or pliers.” His eyes flicker to the moon rising in the sky. “Or a flashlight.”
You follow his gaze out to the rising moon, its light not offering enough of a look at your bike to be all that helpful as night begins to fall.
You sigh, wiping perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. The man’s lips quirk upwards in a minute smirk at the sight of the grease you accidentally wipe on your head. He thinks it’s cute.
“A spanner would be helpful,” you give in, pulling a pair of pliers from where you’d set them down beneath your knee to show you did at least have a couple of tools handy.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, the tall man turns to the backpack he’d set on the ground behind him. He sets his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulls out a spanner, handing it to you in place of the torque wrench you’ve set at your side.
He’s silent as you thank him and begin adjusting the spanner’s size to detach the fuel line. Standing in silence, he does little more than watch given that you don’t seem to want his help.
When the fuel line finally detaches, you groan as you realize you’d been right about the problem the entire time and the line is blocked. Without an air compressor, there isn’t much you can do to get your bike running again and your shoulders slump in defeat.
“Now d’you need a hand?” He asks with a raised brow and a small smirk.
The look you shoot him is fiery and he’d be a liar to say he doesn’t think your attitude is cute. It suits the strange vibes he gets from you in the best of ways.
“I’ll just call for a tow,” you insist, still refusing the help of the stranger you know nothing about, aside from the fact that he has just about the most high-end street legal sports bike in pristine condition and you find it to be pretentious.
“Suit yourself. I can fix it for free, though.”
You press your lips into a thin line, brow furrowed as you look over his features. The man practically towers over you, he’s built like a tank and dwarfs you in every sense. His expression is aloof, giving away very little about him. You have no reason to believe he’s lying though, so with a sigh, you give in and hand him the spanner he’d lent you.
The man lowers himself beside you, disconnecting the other side of the fuel line entirely as he begins pulling apart the carburetor. You sit back, watching your bike attentively as though he might do damage to it, but his fingers move deftly as if this is all muscle memory to him.
“What’s your name?” You ask as the silence stretches on. It’s a surprisingly comfortable silence, as he grabs a rag and water bottle from his backpack. He glances at you as he wets the rag and begins cleaning the carburetor.
“Sukuna.”
“You know your way around a bike.”
“Been riding for a while.”
You nod. Despite his kind actions, his words are distant and frigid, so you decide not to push the subject.
It’s silent for a while as you sit with your hands splayed on the asphalt behind you, watching his actions. Your eyes survey the man hunched over your bike, admiring the smooth lines of the tattoos that line his jaw, more ink just barely visible along his neck from beneath his jacket. His hair looks freshly dyed and his right eye is dotted in long scars that have you wondering what happened.
If the situation were any different, you might be hesitant to accept his help, but in truth you’re too tired to complain.
It’s not much longer before your bike is back together. Wiping his hands with the rag, he nods to the bike.
“Give ‘er.”
Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn the key. The engine flips once, twice, three times, before finally sputtering to life.
“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you sigh in relief, shaking your head. “I thought the issue was the fuel line,” you groan over the sound of the engine.
“It is. You need to replace it, this should get you a few miles away though.”
You nod affirmatively, reaching down to hand back his tools. Sukuna dumps them in his bag and throws it over his shoulder.
“You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you,” you tell him, your mood no longer sour as your bike continues to roar, thankfully not dead on the side of the road anymore.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He simply shrugs.
“Let me buy you a drink, or something,” you insist in spite of your exhaustion, though his cold demeanor doesn’t give you much hope that he’ll accept anyway, so you figure you’ll be able to get some rest regardless of the offer.
As he turns to grab his helmet, you half expect him to start his bike and drive off without another word, ignoring your offer entirely. It’s just the impression he gives you, but he surprises you.
“Keep up, then.”
Your brow raises and before you have a chance to complain that you’re covered in a layer of sweat and grease and you’d meant at a later date, his bike is roaring to life.
You scramble onto your own bike and follow him closely. Sukuna is half-shocked when you actually pull up into the parking lot of a small bar right behind him, pulling your helmet off and shaking your head in an effort to fix your hair.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t find everything about you intriguing. From your bike to the way you ride and your feisty disposition all packaged in such a tiny figure compared to him, he thinks it’s cute. Maybe even something more than that.
He leads the way to the bar wordlessly as you complain about the grease coating your body, but he barely notices the oil marking your skin. He’s used to it, if anything, from working on his own bike.
You aren’t even sure if he’s listening given his flippant attitude and lack of response, but you drone on regardless. It’s better than silence.
Choosing to ignore your frustrated rambles, he orders a whiskey and glances in your direction.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” you tell the bartender with a sweet smile, waving your hand in the air like you don’t much mind what exactly you’re drinking. It’s your turn to surprise Sukuna.
“Don’t think I caught your name,” Sukuna says as you lean over the bar beside him.
You tell him your name with a sweet smile, your mood clearly improved as you take the whiskey and damn-near down it in one swift movement.
When your eyes land on Sukuna again, he’s smirking. He’s not really sure what to make of you nor you of him, but he certainly likes it.
Though you both elect not to have any more alcohol in favor of driving home later, conversation comes easily for the rest of the hour. At least, as easily as it comes for Sukuna.
“Where’d you get your bike?” You ask decidedly, trying to make conversation with the stoic individual.
“A shop up north.”
“Looks like it cost a pretty penny.”
He hums in approval.
That’s about how most conversations with him go, so when you throw your jacket on and insist you should get home, you’re admittedly surprised when he pauses and holds his hand out expectantly.
You stare up at him curiously. Not once had you gotten the impression he was interested in any of your conversations, yet now he wants something from you? You can’t decide what to make of this, what to make of him.
“Sorry, um,” you stare down in confusion at his expectant hand, mouth opening and closing as you try to decide what to say.
“Your phone,” he instructs and your pretty eyes widen as you stare up at him, the difference in stature between you both now incredibly apparent as he dwarfs you when standing over you.
“Oh!” You stare at him with pursed lips and pull your phone out, opening it to your texts. He sends himself a text and hands your phone back wordlessly, before turning his shoulder as he walks out abruptly, leaving you further confused.
Chasing after him, you just barely catch him as he kicks his bike’s stand up and throws his helmet on.
“Thanks again!” You call after him. He glances over his shoulder and though you can’t see his expression behind the dark visor of his helmet, he smirks back at you before driving off.
As you just barely make it back home on your sputtering bike, you manage to replace the fuel line and shoot him a text.
11:53 PM You || fixed the fuel line. thanks again, youre a lifesaver
11:55 PM Sukuna || thanks for the drink.
In all honesty, you figure that’s the last you’ll ever hear from him, but you quickly find out that the cold disposition he gives off isn’t really all there is to him when he asks if you want to go to a bike show a week later.
He fails to mention that his youngest brother Yuji would be joining you for the show, but as you walk the show floor with him and his younger sibling, you realize his brother likely just got all the conversation genes.
Sukuna is still aloof, he doesn't say much to you outside of comments about the bikes and even though he’s the one that invited you, you still can't tell if he enjoys your company. Although he’s quiet, his presence is surprisingly alluring and you're grateful to have someone to listen to your ramblings, even if he doesn't seem interested.
As you walk the length of the convention hall, weaving between crowds of people that seem to part at Sukuna’s menacing figure, Sukuna pauses to look at gorgeous black Yamaha. You barely catch the way he silently stops, managing to point out the pause to Yuji just in time to keep you all from getting separated.
“Don’t think I’ve heard him talk this much in ages,” Yuji comments with a raised brow. You tilt your head towards him, following his gaze to Sukuna.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” the younger man scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have my license yet but I like lookin’ around. He’s usually pretty snippy about which bikes I should be looking at,” he shrugs. “You guys must have a lot in common for him to be so chatty.”
Chatty, you practically scoff to yourself. The man barely said ten sentences to you.
You do notice the way he shoots Yuji a glare or groans about his chatting on occasion, though. Not once does he direct that at you.
Even still, you don't expect him to keep inviting you out. Ten sentences isn’t exactly something to form a friendship on.
Continuing to surprise you, you still hear from him. Next thing you know, you’re invited to ride with him and his brother Choso, invited out to dinner with a group of his friends and he even accepts your invite to see a horror movie with a couple of your friends.
You’re quick to learn that Sukuna is just like that.
Sukuna’s mild and somewhat haughty disposition is something you grow accustomed to as you learn how to talk to him. Though you find yourself talking mostly at him, you realize that’s just how he likes things. He pays a surprising amount of attention to your words, though you don’t tend to notice until he shows it through actions later.
He shows up to your work with takeout on his lunch break when you mention you forgot your lunch. He goes shopping with you despite his distaste for malls when you tell him you need some new clothes. He’s more agreeable when you’re around and his friends are quick to point it out, insisting you need to be there at all times to make him more tolerable, though they’re mostly joking.
He does treat you differently from the rest of his friends. You figure it’s just because your friendship is new, though.
After being invited along on a ride down the highway to a neighboring small town with Sukuna’s friend Uraume and his brother Choso, you eye up Sukuna’s plate. You’d ordered no side with your meal but god his fries look good. You shoot him a curious glance, met with his typical aloof expression, if not one of mild irritation. Glancing again at his fries, you reach over to steal one, pleased when you pop it in your mouth.
Sukuna rolls his eyes at you, muttering under his breath about you ‘being a brat’ and how ‘you should have ordered a side’, but it’s all a show as he lets you steal another one when you smile sweetly at him.
When Choso follows your act, wanting to try the fries as well, Sukuna swats his hand away with a hiss. “My plate isn’t a buffet,” he growls contemptibly. Choso wrinkles his nose, shaking his hand of the harsh slap.
When Sukuna gets up to use the washroom, Choso waits until he’s out of earshot to comment.
“How the hell did you get away with getting some of that asshole’s fries?”
You shrug. “Dunno. He just let me.”
“Grumpy bastard…”
Again, you insist you just don’t know him well and he’s being kind so the action is brushed off.
A week later, Sukuna insists you tag along with his buddy Toji to get drinks, but when you arrive at the meeting spot and pull your helmet off, Sukuna is haughtily arguing with the raven-haired man.
“C’mon, it’s cheap. Their food’s fine.” Toji insists with little more than a raised eyebrow and an unamused sigh.
“What food?” You ask with a smile as you saunter over to the two much taller men.
“Red’s,” Toji responds gruffly, his unamused expression turning to one of intrigue as he realizes you must be Sukuna’s friend. “You must be y/n.”
You grin at him as he smirks.
“Toji,” he introduces himself. “Now can ya tell this asshole that Red’s is cheap?”
Sukuna’s arms are crossed over his chest. “We can do better for cheap.” He all but hisses, his eyes fixed in the distance.
“I’ve never been,” you glance between the two with pursed lips, mentally chuckling to yourself at how much you have to look up to both men. “I think it sounds good.”
Sukuna’s arms fall to his side as his fiery eyes lock on you. He pauses for a moment, sparing a glance at Toji, but those deep eyes return to you with a begrudging sigh as he grumbles something under his breath.
“Fine.”
Toji’s eyes widen as he dangles his keys from his hands, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he fists the keys as he gets ready to get in his car and head to the bar. He pauses before opening the door, a shit-eating grin spread over his scarred lips.
“Think I need ya to tag along more often, y/n.” He catches the tilt of your head and chuckles. “Think ya tame this shithead a bit.”
Sukuna roars something at Toji as he tries to catch him before the door slams and the car speeds off, leaving you giggling at the interaction.
Toji’s not the last to point it out, either.
You don’t think much of it, though. Sukuna just shows he cares through his actions and that’s how you come to know him as your best friend.
Sukuna is, of course, smitten with you. He adores how perfectly you seem to understand him. He loves the way you invite him along to everything with your friends despite his tendencies to scare others off. He loves that in spite of the trouble he gets himself into, your opinion of him never changes. He loves that you text him about stupid things, and that even when his response is inhospitable, you continue to text him like you would any other friend.
Because you’re his best friend. And he won’t admit it to anyone, but you know. He knows you know.
You get him.
So of course when you excitedly text him about your date, you have no way of knowing that his naturally cold responses are no longer his usual tone. They’re frigid, maybe even mildly snarky, but over text you don’t see the way his brow is knit tightly in contempt.
When he meets your boyfriend for the first time, you notice the strange tension between your best friend and partner. Your boyfriend brings it up but you had warned him in advance that Sukuna comes across that way, so you brush it off as little more than Sukuna being himself.
Yet, you notice the little things. You’ve known Sukuna for a long time now. You notice the way his jaw tightens when he sees your boyfriend lean down to kiss you at a dinner for your birthday a year into your relationship. You tilt your head questioningly at him from across the table, a silent query, but he doesn’t give you a response, that mild expression never once leaving his eyes as he leans back in his seat.
“Kuna?” Your sweet voice pulls his attention down to you when you pull him aside as everyone is saying goodnight outside the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
You cock your brow at his flippant response, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “I know you well enough to know you’re lying,” you insist with an expectant look.
God, that look makes his hardened expression falter. Sukuna is well aware that he’s unapproachable, scary even. His form is built and he towers over most everyone, not to mention his constant disinterested expression and the tattoos he sports.
You often tease him for his ‘resting bitch face’.
Yet here you are, hand on your hip, so small and sweet, a fire lit behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Cute.
“It’s just been a long day, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He knows you don’t believe him, but it’s the best you’re getting and you know that as well as he does. Hurt flashes through your eyes and he does feel a pang of guilt, but he keeps it locked away as he sighs and pulls something from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
Your wide eyes look up at him in shock. You’d insisted no one should get you a gift, but when you texted him this morning and told him your boyfriend, so cheerily talking to your friends behind the two of you, had forgotten your birthday, he couldn’t leave you empty-handed in that way.
You gingerly reach out and take the box from him. You know what it is instantly and the way your cheeks redden, the way it shocks you to silence has him smirking, mostly to himself. His hands remain in his pockets, his unamused expression locked on your hands that hesitate as you slowly open the velveteen box.
Lying so beautifully strewn in the box is a necklace you pointed out to him when you’d gone shopping together what must have been years ago now. A gorgeous silver chain lays delicately holding a dainty bejeweled star with your birthstone in the center. Of course he’d been paying attention. He always does.
“You didn’t,” it’s all you can manage as you stare at it in disbelief. To your surprise, Sukuna is smiling softly down at you, a rare sight that you want to burn into your retinas.
“You deserve a good birthday.”
You know it’s a dig at your boyfriend, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Maybe that should be a sign, but you’re too caught up in the moment as tears brim your eyes.
“This was so expensive though, I- I- can’t-”
“You can and you will.”
You know when Sukuna demands something, he means it. This is one of those times.
Tears threatening to spill, you wrap your arms tightly around his toned middle. If he weren’t a giant in comparison to you, you might have bowled him over with the force you hug him with.
Sukuna relishes in the moment, memorizing the feeling of your body in his arms, the way you bury your head into his chest, hiding your tears in his hug as they inevitably stain his white V-neck, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap tightly around you, one of the rare times he returns one of your affections.
When you part from him, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, Sukuna takes the box from you, moving to put the necklace on with ease. He moves like every action he takes is practiced as he confidently clasps the necklace around your neck.
“It’s beautiful,” you hum as you look down at it, running a delicate finger over the pendant.
The salmon-haired man hums mildly. “‘Course. You chose it.”
You examine his eyes, your expression unreadable as you contemplate Sukuna’s actions.
He may be agreeable around you, he may be willing to make compromises with you that he won’t for others, but this is new for him. This is sweet, and he knows you’re thinking such a thing too when he meets those pretty eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t care anymore, though.
He wants you to be happy.
When your boyfriend confronts you about the necklace later that night, you tell him the truth. Maybe you hope he’ll realize he fucked up. Maybe you hope he’ll right his wrongs.
Instead, you end up in an argument as your boyfriend insists that his mistake in forgetting the date was honest but that Sukuna overstepped boundaries.
Maybe your best friend did, in truth.
And so as your boyfriend snaps when you defend your best friend and the argument takes a turn for the worse, maybe it shouldn’t be that same best friend that you turn to. Maybe that will just make things worse.
But the phone only rings twice before he picks up.
He sounds tired, his voice coated in sluggish exhaustion as he mumbles a ‘hello’ on the other line. You hear the rustling of sheets on the other end, a pang of guilt clawing at your throat as you know you’ve woken him up.
“Kuna?” The tone of your voice is foreign to him. Meek, strained. Even earlier in the night when you had confronted him about his cold disposition, your tone still held that unwavering strength and fire that he loves about you, so this wakes him up.
Leaning up on his elbow in bed, he squints at his phone.
“It’s three in the morning, y/n.”
“I know.” You pause and Sukuna waits for you to explain. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s listening. “We got into a fight.”
Sukuna sighs, full of disdain, though not towards you. Never towards you.
“You safe?” His voice is surprisingly soft, though you chalk it up to him being tired.
You nod, before realizing he can’t see you. “... yeah.”
He hears you sniffle on the other end of the line and has to physically resist the urge to say things he’ll regret about your boyfriend. “Right. ‘M on my way. Stay put.”
He hangs up, wasting no time in throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black V-neck. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, although it doesn’t do him any favors and he isn’t about to waste time styling it. As it stands, you’ve seen him in a worse state after some particularly wild nights that had ended with one of you on the other’s couch.
His bike roars to life outside his apartment and he’s off into the cold night air, barely grazing his skin as his leather jacket and helmet protect him from the bite. He pushes the limits of his bike and of the road as he speeds past any cars he comes across on the short drive to your house, and he’s glad he did when he spots you on your front doorstep, head in your hands in little more than pajama shorts and a tank top.
He’s off his bike in an instant, shaking his head as he takes his helmet off in an effort to fix his hair before he kneels in front of you.
You’re relieved at the sight of him, clearly fresh out of bed and having hurried right over. Your knight in shining armor. Or at least a shiny red helmet.
His brow furrows as he looks you over, spotting the goosebumps that litter your bare legs and arms.
“Shit,” he mutters as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs his leather jacket off, wrapping it around you. It engulfs your figure almost entirely, draping over you like a dress. If the situation was any different he would think it’s adorable.
You look up at him between long, wet lashes, fresh tears streaking down your makeup-stained cheeks. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and you’re sure your exhaustion and defeat are written across your face in bright bold lettering by the way he frowns.
“Did he kick you out?”
“It’s a long story,” you mutter, just barely audible.
“I got time.”
There’s a note of contempt that floats between his words and you know just as well as he does that he’s resisting the urge to beat down your door and knock some sense into your boyfriend.
Your mouth opens then closes enough times that Sukuna grows impatient, muscles in his jaw clenching as he grows closer and closer to busting down your door when you finally find words.
“We’ve been fighting on and off since we got home,” you admit. Sukuna raises a brow. That was four hours ago. “He was pissed about- about-” you stammer over your words, biting your lip as you fiddle with the necklace that sits beautifully around your neck. Beautiful like you.
“Me,” Sukuna dryly finishes your sentence.
You frown and he knows he’s right. Of course. Maybe the necklace was overstepping this time, but he’d watched your shitty boyfriend step on you more times than he could count and hadn’t once said a word. He respected you and your fiery demeanor entirely too much to ever want to see you upset.
Yet no matter what path he chose, it seemed you would be upset regardless.
“He took my phone and went through everything,” you clear your throat as your voice cracks mid-sentence, staring down at the phone in your hands. The screen is cracked and Sukuna isn’t sure if he wants to know whether it was shattered before today or not.
Your words set him ablaze in anger. It burns like an itch on his skin and it takes every last ounce of self control that he has to hold himself back and just listen. The contrasting cold air is nice on his skin, soothing what little fury it's able to with its brisk touch.
“Do you remember that photo we took together on Halloween?”
Sukuna nods slowly. He knows exactly where this is going. It was well over a year ago, before you’d started dating your boyfriend, when you had convinced Sukuna to dress as a king and you his queen. He’d had a surprising amount of fun with it and with enough alcohol flowing through his veins, his words had grown more frivolous. He’d spent all night calling you his queen or his princess, pretty much until the moment he’d thrown up, the words ejecting from his dialect along with the alcohol. Regardless, the proof was in the texts between you from that night.
At some point in the night, you’d gotten a photo taken clinging to his shoulders, a calm smile on Sukuna’s lips as he’d carried you with ease. It made him smirk the following morning recalling the memory, glad it hadn’t disappeared with the words or alcohol.
Regardless, he’d missed his chance to shoot his shot, growing too accustomed to having you around to consider you didn’t see his change in attitude around you as anything more than friendly, so he’d retreated to his usual detached self.
Clearly that detachment wasn’t enough for your boyfriend as you flip him your phone screen. So it is newly broken.
God give Sukuna the strength to sit still.
“And you’re outside now, why?”
“I felt sick, I needed air.” You shrug, fiddling with your phone in your lap. “He got mad that I walked away and we ended up fighting again, then he slammed the door in my face.”
“He kicked you out,” Sukuna states matter of factly, venom dripping from each and every word.
“He locked me out,” you shrug again, but Sukuna doesn’t care for the details. You have no keys, not to your bike or your house, no jacket, you’re in shorts and a tank top… jesus.
“What a fucking prick.” With that, he’s on his feet and you know he’s about to slam his fist on your door. Or through it. Sukuna may be kind with you but the bad boy persona he sports isn’t a persona at all- Sukuna would not hesitate to knock your boyfriend clean out. He’d been to jail before, one more time wasn’t a big deal if it meant keeping you safe.
“Kuna.” He pauses at the plain tone you say his name in. It’s not a warning, it’s not scolding. He doesn’t know what to make of it. “Not now.”
He huffs and clicks his tongue. His jaw clenches as his shrunken, furious pupils stare down at you, but when he notices your legs are shaking from the cold, he relents.
“Fine.” The word is grumbled as his hands reach for your waist and lift you to your feet with little more than a hum when you’re standing at your full height, barely reaching his broad shoulders. He leaves a hand on the small of your back, setting his helmet over your head and zipping his jacket up over your small frame in an effort to keep you safe when you climb onto the back of his bike.
Sukuna glances back at you as you cling to his toned abdomen, his bike pulling away quickly. Riding with Sukuna is familiar. Though you normally follow him, his quick riding pace and not-entirely-legal maneuvers don’t scare you the way they once did, because everything Sukuna does feels practiced, rehearsed.
Pulling into his apartment building, he pulls the bike into a parking spot and lets you hand him the helmet as you follow him up to his apartment.
It’s a bit of a mess, dishes sit in the sink, empty bottles and cans littering the counter and a garbage bag sits at the door, but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re safe and it’s not like he’d let you take the couch anyway given the current situation.
Sukuna moves to at least tidy the couch, fully expecting you to make yourself at home like you always do, but when he turns to see you’re staring at the ground in the entrance, his jacket wrapped around you like a blanket, he frowns. That’s not like you.
In fact, in all the years you two have known one another, Sukuna’s never seen you so spaced out.
“Did he hurt you?”
It’s his best guess as to why you’re so out of it, but when you shake your head, he’s simply at a loss.
Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. He’ll watch your favorite movies with you and make you food, but he doesn’t do words of comfort. He’s a man of action, and although the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on is standing in his apartment, he doesn’t dare to act on the stray thoughts running through his mind, even though he knows you deserve to be treated right.
Coming to stand in front of you, he sighs.
“Whaddya want me to do?”
Anyone else would assume he’s irritated with your presence, but you know it’s a genuine question. Your friend doesn’t know what you need and he’s trying his best to figure it out. He’s trying to help.
“Can I have a blanket?” You ask him, shoulders hunched in exhaustion.
There’s silence in the apartment as Sukuna moves to his bedroom to grab a blanket.
“The red one please!” You call after him as though that isn’t the one he’s already grabbing. He knows your favorite.
Returning to you, he drops the red blanket in your arms, his heart twisting as you pull his jacket off and hand it to him in exchange.
“Can I, um, come in?”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow questioningly, subconsciously fiddling with the tongue piercing in his mouth. Not once have you ever asked him to come in. You always, always, made yourself at home, even though it was much to his dismay the first few times you’d let yourself into his apartment in spite of his grumbles and irritated huffs.
Sukuna’s reaction is all the permission you need as you realize he must find the whole situation strange, but everything feels foreign to you. It’s not like you haven’t stayed at Sukuna’s before, it’s not like the couch isn’t your second bed, it’s that you feel like you’re betraying your boyfriend by being here.
Not that Sukuna would do anything anyway, you know he doesn’t see you in such a way. You may be his closest friend but he’s never once shown any sort of other interest towards you. Even if he did see you that way, he’s just not that kind of person.
Still, you gingerly sit at the edge of the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping yourself in the massive blanket. Sukuna moves to sit beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to see what you want to do, if you want to talk.
But you don’t answer, and Sukuna is at a loss of what to do. A contemplative silence settles over you as he leans his head back against the couch, eyeing you and hoping you’ll say something.
“Can I ask you something, Ryo?”
The use of the nickname he lets only you call him quirks his brow as he realizes you’re serious.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
That’s… not what the gruff man was expecting to hear.
His jaw tightens as his piercing eyes stare down at you. He rubs a hand over his face as he tries to make sense of the question, too tired to be thinking this deeply over something. He stares at you pensively as though the world rests on this one response.
“Yeah. You’re pretty.”
Your eyes fall to your knees and the way Sukuna’s head tilts, you’re sure he thinks he’s made a mistake.
“Thanks, Kuna.”
“The fuck did that prick say to you that has ya askin’?”
You hesitate, avoiding his discerning eyes as Sukuna’s chest surges with anger. Your best friend’s fist clenches in his lap as he leans forward, examining your expression.
“What the fuck did he say?” Sukuna’s voice is monstrous, but you could never fear his anger knowing he’s never once directed it your way. You know he’s irritated you haven’t answered yet, but even between his irritation and the gruff tone he uses, he could never scare you.
“He told me I couldn’t do better than him.”
“And?” Sukuna pushes demandingly, his fingers clasping the back of his couch so hard you wonder if he has the strength to crush it.
“That he’s way out of my league and should have chosen…” you trail off, not oblivious to the way Sukuna quirks a brow for you to continue. When you meekly whisper your friend’s name, Sukuna’s seething.
Fury practically drifts from his body like smoke and to your surprise you do hear the couch creak beneath his hand.
You’ve only ever seen Sukuna this angry once before.
Sukuna’s closest friend aside from you, Uraume, often accompanied you on your trips to the bar with Sukuna and would join in on your rides with their own bike. The two of them were two peas in a pod, similar in all the ways you weren’t, but if anything it made you closer to Uraume for having an understanding of Sukuna.
For that exact reason, you’d spotted Uraume’s discomfort a mile away when someone began hitting on them. Uraume could handle themself, so you didn’t think much of it until the man’s hand was tightly gripping Uraume’s arm.
Alarmed, you pointed out Uraume’s discomfort to your drunk best friend and he didn’t hesitate to clock the man hitting on them.
So when Sukuna is on his feet with a familiar rage brewing and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, you know you have to calm him down before you’re bailing him out of jail again. It’s not something you want to make a habit of.
“Kuna, it’s okay.”
“No!” He hisses, swinging his hand through the air as he stares at the door.
“Please, I’ll be okay, I promise,” you try to insist, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“It’s not okay for him to say shit like that to you,” he growls, glowering from where he stands over you, eyes on the door. He wants to leave, you know he does.
“It’s not, I know, but it’s not your problem.”
“Not my- What the fuck don’t you get?”
Your eyes widen at Sukuna’s question. His voice is frigid as ever, but for once you feel the shards of ice pricking your skin.
“What?” Your dumbfounded and hurt question hangs in the air momentarily as you try to process this outburst.
Sukuna’s scarred eye twitches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He huffs out a breath as he sees your expression, forcing himself to calm down so as not to make this about him. He doesn’t want to say something he regrets, and he certainly doesn’t want that icy tone to be directed at you, ever again.
“He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
Your shoulders fall at his words, his chest heaving as he stares at you with an unidentifiable emotion.
“Where’s this coming from?” Your brow knits tightly over the bridge of your nose. As you subconsciously chew on your lower lip, Sukuna has to do everything in his power not to stare at your lips.
“Look, I just care, alright? Or somethin’.”
You barely know how to react to your best friend’s admission of care for you. Not once has he ever shown an ounce of his care through words. Sure, he’s shown it in other ways, but this is a first for him.
His gaze is fixed on the kitchen, so he barely notices when you stand up and set your hand on his arm, your thumb comfortingly rubbing his arm.
“I appreciate it, Kuna.” You tell him with a tired smile, doing your best to reassure him that you’re okay in spite of the situation. “Just… can we please just watch a movie or something?” You’re too tired, too worn out to handle everything going on right now and you’re afraid the buildup of emotions in your chest will overflow if you don’t distract yourself soon.
Sukuna’s focus fixes on your hand on his arm, the way it seems to burn into him in a way he’d long grown painfully familiar with. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab his arm and drag him somewhere, or hug him each time you said hello. Hell, the Halloween you’d both gotten entirely too drunk, you’d been on Sukuna’s back half of the night giggling and telling him, your King, where to take you.
Yet this time, the burn hurts. It hurts him to see you here with dried tears on your cheeks. It angers him to know your boyfriend had gotten away with treating you in such a way for so long.
He lets out a breath through his nose and takes a seat on the couch again at your insistence, watching as you drape the big blanket over the both of you. And god is it cute when you do, making sure he’s completely covered from the waist down like you’re tucking him in.
When you lean back against the arm of the couch, slinking comfortably back into the cushions and grab the remote, Sukuna feels his body begin to relax too, allowing himself to focus on your wellbeing here and now rather than the fact that he wants to pummel your boyfriend.
He’s not shocked when you flip through options and eventually settle on a Studio Ghibli movie he knows you’ve seen a million times because he’s seen it one too many times.
You know he doesn’t mind although he isn’t the biggest fan of the movie. Either way, it’s nearly five in the morning and you both know you’ll be asleep before you know it.
–
The next morning as cool air pours through a window and birdsong decorates each blow of the breeze, the pounding of your head is a rude awakening. It’s too early for you to be up given that you were awake so late, but your phone seems to think otherwise.
Your eyes flicker open blearily, and you lean up in bed with a yawn, realizing suddenly that you’re in Sukuna’s room and he’s nowhere to be found. Sitting up fully, you bring a hand up to your temple, pressing on it in an effort to ease the pain as you search for your phone, finding it eventually on the floor a small distance away.
Hopping down from the tall mattress, you yawn as you stare at the screen, your heart clenching at the sight of the contact photo on-screen as your phone rings. Your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both grin. With the way your screen is now shattered, it looks almost like a scene from a movie in the way it’s practically screaming a warning at you.
You’d spent far too much time alone with your thoughts the previous night. Hell, even with Sukuna’s comfort, his disdain for your boyfriend had been a bit of a wakeup call. Still, your thumb hovers over the green button.
“Hello?” Your voice is broken as you answer the phone.
“Thank god baby, I was so worried about you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you outside last night, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
You take a couple of steps forward, walking towards the living room as your eyes lock onto the tall man draped over the couch, his limbs entirely too long for the cushions. He must have carried you to his bed at some point and taken the couch.
Your stomach twists as you realize your boyfriend’s words are all lost on you, you didn’t hear a single one. You’re not sure when you tuned him out, or how long you’ve been staring at Sukuna when your boyfriend’s words pull you from your thoughts.
“Y/n? Did you hear me?”
“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. What did you say?”
He sighs in frustration on the other side of the line and you wince as his tone gains a familiar edge. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you so we can talk.”
“I- um-” you pause, brow furrowing as you stare at your best friend, who begins to shuffle from his uncomfortable position on the couch as your soft voice awakens him from slumber.
“Y/n?” Your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the haze again, but you’re at a loss for words as Sukuna lifts his head, irritation written across his face at being awake, but when he flips over on the couch and spots you, his demeanor softens.
“Yeah. You’re pretty.”
Sukuna’s words ring in your head over and over and you bite your lip. He pushes himself up on the couch, moving to stand a small distance in front of you in three long strides.
Sukuna may not have a way with words, but you never had a hard time telling what he was thinking just by the way he looks at you. As he stares down at you with a tilt of his head, you know exactly what’s going through his mind.
Like that, it all clicks. Of course he hated your boyfriend. The signs were always there, you just didn’t pay them any mind. The reason he was colder than usual towards your boyfriend is as obvious as the sun in the sky.
Sukuna thinks you’re pretty. He wasn’t trying to comfort you when he said that. That’s not who Sukuna is. That may as well be an admission that he would move mountains for you.
“Y/n, baby? What’s going on? I want you home, now.”
Your chest twists at his tone and as your eyes meet Sukuna’s, you wonder if your phone is loud enough for him to hear when his lip twitches.
You clear your throat, your eyes never once leaving Sukuna’s from where he stands with tousled hair, wrinkled sweatpants and a bare chest. It’s not unfamiliar to you, you know Sukuna is beyond hot. You know Sukuna could take anyone he wants home and you know he has a streak of doing so, but now that you think about it, it’s been a long time since you’ve seen Sukuna with anyone, and you know why now.
“You left me outside all night in the cold.” Your voice is meek, still mindlessly chewing on your lip as you stare at the tattooed man’s eyes, now lit ablaze with a fire that hadn’t been there earlier. “You know what- I should go.”
“What? Baby, come on we need to talk-”
“I have nothing to talk to you about. We’re-” You pause, your stomach stirring uncomfortably as all of your emotions seem to collide and collapse within you. You feel the tears that threaten to spill, your composure that threatens to break as you ball your hand into a fist at your side.
Sukuna’s hand twitches beside him as he does everything in his power not to lean down and kiss you then and there. He wants you. He wants all of you. He wants to show your boyfriend everything he’s about to lose.
He wants to make you his. He wants you to make him yours.
Yet, all he can reasonably do is set a hand on your upper arm. He can’t be selfish. Not when you’ve come to him in your time of need.
“We’re done.”
“Nonono, we are not done, hold on-”
“I’ll come grab my bike and my things soon-”
“-let’s talk about this, I just made a mistake, okay-”
“-goodbye.”
“Don’t hang up, baby, hold on, fuck-”
Your hand falls to your side as you stare up at the taller man.
He doesn’t say a word as a tear runs down your cheek, shortly followed by a sob wracking your body. Sukuna’s hand moves from your arm to the back of your head as he pulls you into his chest, holding you there as you cry against his bare skin, tears wetting his toned pecs.
It’s not his ideal morning, but at least he can shamelessly say now that he wants to rearrange your boyfriend’s face with his fist.
He won’t say it anyway, though. He knows better.
Your best friend doesn’t say anything but his actions speak volumes as he holds you to him protectively, unmoving as he envelops you into his form. He exhales deeply as he holds you tightly to his body, his fingers gripping you tightly. It’s reassuring to know you have him in your time of need and eventually your tears begin to subside.
You blink your wet lashes against his skin as your warm breath fans his chest and abdomen. He shoots you a disgruntled look as your lashes tickle his skin and he jolts at the feeling.
“Don’t be a brat,” he warns through gritted teeth, but it holds no malice.
You chuckle through tears. “Sorry, Ryo.”
He rolls his shoulders and holds you again, letting your face fall against his chest once more. This time, you’re careful to keep your eyes closed to avoid tickling him.
He’s surprisingly patient with you as he lets you stand there, only moving to take and silence your phone when he grows frustrated with the vibration.
When you finally settle, he leads you back to the couch, tossing his shirt and the blanket off the couch and onto the floor.
“Did you move me to the bed?”
He hums affirmatively, his chest warming as you smile at him. “Thanks, I could have taken the couch though. It looked a bit too small for y-”
“No.”
You breathe out through your nose in a half-hearted laugh. There’s never any use arguing with him when he’s made up his mind, so you give it up. Oh well.
“Can I stay here for a bit?”
You figure Sukuna will huff and puff and make a show out of it but he nods easily.
“Thanks,” you sigh, sinking back into the couch.
You stare at the ceiling. What a morning. You’ve barely been awake for ten minutes and your heart is pounding in your chest just from sitting beside your best friend, someone you’ve known for years.
Someone you’d long pushed any attraction for down into the depths of your heart in an effort to save yourself the heartbreak of being with someone who seemed to have no interest in you. Hell, you’d once thought he was emotionally unavailable, and yet…?
You can’t help but stare.
He’s exhausted, you’re not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stay awake as his head bobs down onto the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar as sleep settles over his form. You smile softly at the sight, swallowing at the yearning feeling of wanting to settle into his warmth, though you know you shouldn’t.
You’re a mess. You’ve heard your boyfriend- ex- say things you aren’t ready to admit to yourself that leave fresh stinging wounds. Hell, that’s an entire can of worms you don’t want to touch right now. Your belongings, your bike, your entire life is all trapped in his house, in the house of someone that-
God why had you let him step all over you like that? It leaves you frowning as your heart twists and clenches uncomfortably. You loved him. Deep down, you know it’s the reason. You convinced yourself he loved you too.
You curse yourself for overlooking your feelings for Sukuna, for pushing them down. He’d always cared deeply for you, the signs had always been there, yet you never paid them any mind.
Chewing on your lower lip again, you get to your feet and grab the blanket off the floor, draping it over him. Your thumb brushes over the faded black lines that race over his shoulders and down his collar bones as you tuck the blanket over his shoulders.
He hums subconsciously, a serene smile pulling at his lips.
You smile back, turning to get some rest yourself. When Sukuna kicks his foot out suddenly and damn-near trips you, you let out a surprised yelp, spinning around to confront him.
“What the hell, Kuna?” You harshly snarl at him.
His lidded eyes just barely open, your reaction earning a smirk from him. There’s his feisty best friend.
“C’mere, it’s cold.”
It’s not cold, and Ryomen Sukuna is not sly, but your stomach flutters and your heart jumps to your throat anyway. Your shoulders fall to your sides in surprise, unable to be frustrated with him.
He flips the blanket up, his arm extended over the back of the couch. His expression is mild as usual but when you take him up on his offer and plop down next to him, his racing heart tells you everything you need to know.
Pulling your knees up onto the couch, you let him pull you against is chest, your head resting on his broad shoulder as he barely lasts a minute before the rhythm of his breathing steadies and his head falls back on the couch again.
You’re not long for the world of the waking either as you succumb to the temptation of sleep on his warm chest.
When your eyes flicker open again, your head has fallen into Sukuna’s lap and he’s splayed in what looks like an uncomfortable position with his arm and leg hanging off the couch. His head is still leaned back against the back of the couch with his mouth hanging open as soft snores part his lips.
It’s not the first time you’ve seen him asleep. You’ve spent many hungover mornings at his apartment and vice versa but now in the gentle morning light with the distant sound of birdsong as the only noise disturbing his snores, he looks peaceful.
You shuffle on his lap in an effort to get a better look at his serene expression, but his strained groan suggests that you may have awoken him earlier than he would have liked.
“Can ya cut that out?” He grumbles without opening his eyes as he reaches down and adjusts your head to lay more on his abdomen.
The irritation in his voice doesn’t hold a candle to the sincerity in which his arm now cradles you against him and you giggle, to which he opens an eye to observe you.
“Sorry,” you hum. He exhales as he closes his eyes again, sliding further down on the couch.
You lay in bliss on his toned and horribly attractive bare chest for what only feels like a few minutes before his eyes peel open and he’s drinking in the sight of you, his gorgeous best friend, smiling at him from his chest.
And oh my god, Ryomen Sukuna is blushing.
Would you really be his best friend if you didn’t point it out?
“Kuna?”
“Hm?”
“You a lil flustered?”
Sukuna’s brow furrows deeply. “I am not.”
“You’re blushing.”
“It’s warm in here, you’re laying on top of me and we have a blanket,” he refutes with an edge to his voice that tells you that you’re poking a nerve.
You also know him well enough to know it’s faux anger, playful if anything.
“Funny, I was told it was cold a couple of hours ago.”
His lip curls, chest rising and falling beneath you as he huffs. “You push my buttons.” You can see from the way a muscle in his jaw works that he’s fiddling with his tongue piercing.
“I could push more than just your buttons,” your voice drips with confidence, lowering an octave at the implication. You pull a hand out from beneath your chin, running a dainty finger across the length of his collar bone.
Sukuna’s pupils dilate in an instant, his attention drawn to your finger. He swallows hard, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk. All signs of his contempt forgotten, warmth swirls in those gorgeous eyes of his, but the smirk on his lips is devilish.
“Careful, princess,” he warns in a gruff voice that has you clenching your thighs together with wide eyes. Sukuna’s brow twitches as he feels your legs shuffle, entirely too happy with himself at getting such a reaction from you all from two words. He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you as you hide your face in his chest, heat radiating from your cheeks.
Tension is ripe in the air between you both when you finally meet Sukuna’s intense gaze and it makes a question pop into your mind.
“How long?” The words are blurted out and Sukuna shifts beneath you to get a better view.
“What are you on about?”
“How long have you liked me?”
Sukuna’s scoff hits the air before he can even register he’s made the noise. “Go get ready or whatever so we can pick up your shit.” His brow is pulled into a tight scowl as he all but shoves you to the ground.
You barely manage to catch yourself before falling on your ass, rolling your eyes as you steady yourself.
“Kuuuna!” You coo with a grin, but before you have a chance to tease him any further, Sukuna lunges at you. “Wait, wait-”
You shriek in protest as he barrels into your legs, effortlessly lifting you over his shoulder. He pays no mind to any of your protests, nor your kicking and squirming against him as he dumps you with little grace on his bed.
“What-”
“Stop complainin’ and go change or shower or whatever y’ gotta do. I want your bike back.”
Sitting up as you attempt to reorient yourself, you blink a couple of times and manage to call his name out just before he’s turning away.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” you tell him, staring down at your pajamas.
“You’ve been leaving shit here for years, find something in my closet.”
“Have I?” You wonder aloud, suddenly realizing your hungover mornings passed in his apartment are likely the culprit for many missing outfits. “Wait, why do you want my bike back?” You realize suddenly, but he’s already shutting the door to his room and leaving you in tranquility.
Standing in the silence broken only by distant birdsong and the muffled sounds of traffic, you find your gaze lingering on the door where he once stood.
How long? You wonder to yourself. How many signs, how many signals had you missed or brushed off all these years under the assumption that your grumpy best friend was just that- your best friend?
You set a hand over your fast-beating heart, trying to steady the pace it’s beating at as emotions run rampant through you. Between the shock of realization of Sukuna’s feelings and the shitty night you’d had- your birthday, by the way- you can’t help the shaky exhale that parts your lips.
It’s a lot to take in.
You take your time showering, enjoying the way the warm water rinses away all signs of the prior night. It’s a warm respite from the days that are beginning to grow frosty as winter approaches. Most importantly, the white noise of the water falling drowns out the steady stream of jumbled thoughts flowing like a river through your mind.
Perusing Sukuna’s closet, you do manage to find more of your clothes than you had expected.
“My nice leggings were here the whole time?” You mutter to yourself as you pull them from a pile of pants. Along with them, you manage to find a pair of jeans, more shirts than you’d care to admit, an old jacket and a hoodie.
Pulling on a form-fitting black low-cut shirt and a red leather jacket, you poke your head out of the bedroom door.
“Why’d you never give any of this back?”
Sukuna’s leaning out the window with a cigarette held between two fingers. He blows a puff of smoke out into the cool fall air before turning to you. He’s still in his sweatpants but has pulled his shirt on.
“I used to bring ‘em back to your place when I visited but they always ended up back on my couch,” he shrugs simply. “Wasn’t worth the time.”
“I didn’t know it was this much clothing.”
“Your memory’s shit.”
“Ouch,” you hold a hand to your heart, feigning being hurt.
He stubs out the cigarette, waving the smoke out the window with his arm before shutting it. “Done in there?”
You nod and exchange places with Sukuna as he showers. He takes less than a quarter of the time you did and is out with the most effortlessly cool style that you can’t help but be jealous of him.
His typical black leather jacket hangs off his shoulders with a vintage Harley Davidson shirt beneath. He sports ripped jeans on his lower half and blackout shades sit atop his spiked pink hair.
“See something you like?”
You barely manage to utter out a pathetic ‘uh’ before Sukuna’s chuckling at you as he catches you eyeing him from your place on the couch. He makes his way around the couch, patting your shoulder encouragingly.
“Let’s go.”
Shaking your head to clear your mind, you get to your feet and follow Sukuna to the door, stopping him before he can leave.
“Hey. Can you stay on the sidewalk while I talk to him?”
The tall man pauses at your serious tone, examining your expression. “Why?”
You know why he’s asking.
“I’m serious, Ryo. I don’t want you two fighting.”
“He treated you like shit, y/n.”
“I- I know.”
His jaw clenches. “The piece of shit deserves-”
“I know, okay? Please, this is what I’m trying to prevent. Besides, if you get into trouble, I’ll leave your ass in jail this time.”
His head falls back, eyes closed as he comes to terms with just how serious you are. He rolls his shoulders backwards once before nodding. “Whatever, fine.” His tone drips with exasperation and anger and you can only hope at this point that he means what he says.
“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, falling into place beside him as he leads the way down to his bike.
Though you rode behind him less than twelve hours ago, somehow it feels different today as he places his helmet on you and pulls you tight to his broad form. His feisty little backpack, so cute in his helmet. He’s not oblivious to the way your hands roam his abs either as a smirk pulls at his features. It’s a sweet momentary distraction from his searing anger.
It takes every ounce of self control that Sukuna has to stay at his bike as he watches you ring the doorbell of your own house. Thank god for the cold air keeping his anger from simmering through his skin. He’s sure he’d be a pile of molten anger otherwise.
You shuffle uncomfortably at the doorstep, knowing entirely too well that this is going to go poorly. You were practically asking for a fight by showing up with Sukuna but what better option do you have? Your wallet and keys are still sitting soundly on the nightstand of the bed you’d spent the last several months sleeping in. At least, that’s where they should be.
It takes a moment before the door creaks open, your ex’s surprised wide eyes staring back at you.
“Shit, thank god you’re home-”
You barely manage to duck from his grasp as he attempts to pull you into his embrace. Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you face your ex, whose face contorts to one of pain when you duck away from him.
“I told you-” You mentally curse yourself as your voice breaks. Closing your eyes, you readjust and face your ex with confidence. “We’re done.”
“We need to talk,” he insists, his voice sickeningly sweet, and it almost makes you want to gag the way he swings between sweet nothings and manipulative cords that twist your heart.
“We talked for four hours last night. There’s nothing left to talk about!” You swing a hand through the air for emphasis as your voice rises, staring at him in disbelief. “Just let me in, I need my keys and-”
His arm swings out to block the door, knuckles white as he grips the frame of the door. His brow curls upwards in… frustration? Irritation? Anger? Pain? You’re not sure. “This is your home. You belong with me.”
You swallow the bile in your throat like a stone straight to the pit of your stomach. Once words like that would have made you swoon, now you feel as though you’re a deer in the headlights staring at a man you don’t recognize. A man who holds the barrel of a metaphorical gun.
You spare a glance behind you for reassurance, spotting Sukuna sitting at his bike. If it’s possible for a man to have smoke spewing from his ears, Sukuna is the spitting image of such a thing. His face is red with anger, hands clenched at either side of his body as he tries desperately to hold himself back.
He still remembers the way you excitedly told him about your new boyfriend. About how sweet he was, how kind he was. Although it pained him to know it was someone else making you happy, he was just glad you were happy. But when you had invited him to meet your boyfriend, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel as though the man didn’t match your description.
He’d tried to convince himself he was just being jealous, but the more time he spent around you, the more he noticed.
The last straw for Sukuna was when you had invited him, your boyfriend, and some of your closest friends along to see the latest installment in the Predator franchise. You’d stopped for dinner first and your boyfriend had insisted on ordering for you.
Sukuna hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he had found it strange when a salad had been set in front of you. Not once had Sukuna ever seen you order a salad. Well, he had, but as a side. Never as the entire meal.
He’d tried to brush it off but when you’d decided on popcorn at the movie and your boyfriend had insisted you didn’t need it, Sukuna made a point of ordering a large one and sharing it with you.
Now as you look back at him uncertainly, every bone in Sukuna’s body screams to move. Yet his brain tells him to listen to you. He takes a breath in an effort to stay calm, deciding to respect your wishes.
“You brought him here?” Your ex pales as he follows your line of sight.
That seems to give you the confidence to face him again as anger sears through your blood. “You left me outside alone! He came to get me!” You search his face for any sign of remorse. When you don’t find it, tears prick at your eyes. Over a year spent together and he can’t even show you an ounce of kindness.
“I told you baby, it was a mistake!”
“No- No. No, a mistake is forgetting to turn off the sink, not leaving me outside in the cold with nothing but a broken phone.” Your voice drips with venom as the cold of the previous night envelops you in its memory, a reminder that this is for the best.
“Your phone isn’t broken, get over it y/n.” You glance down at his fist as it balls at his side.
“You shattered it.” You deadpan.
“Can we forget about the phone? For fuck’s sake.” He lifts his fist in the air to bring it up to his forehead as he attempts to calm himself down. “Look-” he shoots Sukuna a glance before smiling, his voice growing honeyed. “We’ll figure things out, okay? Why don’t you come in?”
You hesitate. You see the red flags as clear as day now that the fog has lifted, and you know Sukuna is grateful when you pleadingly look at him. His signal to come beat the shit out of your ex. Well, no, it isn’t. But he wishes it was.
Regardless, he’s up the front lawn to the door of the small house in an instant, standing behind you with all the self-control he can physically muster.
“We’re having a private conversation, would you mind-”
“Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” You insist, backing into Sukuna as your ex reaches for your arm. You’re thankful in this moment that your closest friend is nearly seven feet and built like a brick wall as it could never really matter who he’s up against, he’ll always be the scariest one in the room.
Your ex’s mouth curls into a snarl, eyeing Sukuna’s hands that rest easily on your upper arms.
“You’ve gotta be-” he grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand that isn’t blocking you from entering the house. “Come on baby, you know you belong with me and not-” he cuts himself off as he shoots Sukuna an icy glance.
You shift uncomfortably at the tone he uses as he says that you belong with him, growing uneasy the longer you’re in his presence. Steeling your resolve, you straighten yourself and muster as much confidence as you can.
“This isn’t about Sukuna. You left me outside in the cold last night and I called my best friend to get me,” you tell him without missing a beat. Sukuna is practically grinning behind you as your ex’s jaw clenches but you don’t see the exchange between the two men. “Oh, and I don’t belong with or to anyone.”
Sukuna squeezes your arm in reassurance.
“I need my keys and wallet. I’m taking my bike and some clothes.”
Your ex mulls over your words before relenting finally, just as you’re beginning to think you’ll be without belongings. “Fine, but he stays outside.”
You glance up at Sukuna, whose expression is unreadable. “Fine,” you agree, slipping from Sukuna’s grasp and into the house. Your ex goes to close the door in Sukuna’s face, but a steady hand stops him just as you dash out of sight into your old bedroom.
“Let go of the door, man.”
“Leave the door open, man,” Sukuna warns mockingly in a sneer.
“She’s my-”
“She’s not. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“Go fuck yourself, Sukuna.” He rolls his eyes, pressing more of his weight against the door, but it’s nothing compared to the bulk Sukuna packs.
“Consider yourself lucky I’m not rearranging your face right now,” his deep eyes blaze as he leans closer to your ex, his words dangerously low. If ever Sukuna is thankful that he knows he’s a scary person, it’s right now as your ex flinches back and relents, leaving the door open and leaving Sukuna at the door.
Your ex disappears from Sukuna’s sight and he stands up straight, turning to the side as he stares at your bike. He knows you can handle yourself, but he still doesn’t love the prospect of you being alone with your ex for any period of time.
Sukuna especially hates how long it takes. He’s not sure how much you need to pack and he can’t make out whatever you’re talking about with your ex but each passing moment he grows less patient and less willing to wait outside.
Just as he’s thinking of stepping inside, he sees your tiny figure with a backpack and a suitcase, keys dangling from your fingers and your wallet held firmly in your hand. The relief on your face when you lock eyes with Sukuna is somewhat heartwarming, but what isn’t is the way your ex tries to grab your wrist as you make your way to the door.
You pull against him but his grip fastens.
Sukuna sees red. He sees red and he doesn’t think twice about stepping into what was once your house.
“Don’t touch her.”
Your eyes widen at the sight of Sukuna making his way towards you with gritted teeth. “No, no, no! Sukuna! It’s fine, I can handle this!” Your hand with your wallet and keys flies up as you maneuver yourself between him and your ex.
Your ex’s hand doesn’t loosen even when your arm physically blocks Sukuna from laying a beating on him.
You take a breath, looking between the two men. “I’m leaving. Please let go,” you say softly, so calmly it almost breaks Sukuna’s heart that your ex’s actions seem so normal to you.
“We aren’t done talking-”
“We are. I’ll be back for the rest of my things later.” You tug your wrist again, sending a pleading look to your ex, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go.”
“Y/n, please. Please, we can work this out.”
“Let go,” you tell him firmly, ignoring his words.
“Please-”
“I don’t know if you’re incapable of listening or if you just want your head bashed in, but I’d listen to her.” Sukuna’s voice is a warning, dripping with malevolence you’ve never heard from him before. His chest is pressed hard against your free hand and you aren’t sure you can hold him back much longer.
“Ryo,” you plead, looking between the two men as you try to pull your wrist again. Your ex’s hand twitches at Sukuna’s words before loosening and falling to his side. You breathe out a sigh of relief, glancing down at the bruising markings his fingers left behind.
“So he’s Ryo now, huh?”
You glare pointedly at your ex, knowing that one wrong word will have him with his face caved in.
Sukuna’s intense stare never once leaves your ex, but he does allow you to hand him your suitcase and gently tug his forearm to follow you out the door.
Your ex watches from the door as Sukuna follows you to your bike. His intent gaze has your hair standing on end but you choose to ignore the feeling in favor of hopping on your bike.
The sound of your bike roaring to life puts both you and Sukuna at ease and you ride down the driveway, stopping next to his bike. He jogs after you with your suitcase still in-hand.
Sukuna is quiet, which isn’t unusual for him but you can practically feel the anger coming off of him in droves like smoke. Kicking your bike’s stand out, you hop off and flip his Ducati’s storage compartment open, pulling out a couple of straps to secure your suitcase to the back of your bike.
“Ready?”
You pull your friend’s attention from your ex finally as your hand comes to rest on his bicep. His eyes travel from your face to your arm that rests on him, where he can see the way your wrist is reddened and sure to bruise.
Realizing the sight of your reddened arm has his jaw clenching with anger, you move it behind your back and out of sight.
“Kuna, please.”
His intense gaze examines yours as the breeze faintly ruffles his spiked hair. He’s completely still apart from the muscle working in his jaw as he thinks over his options at this moment, but his chest heaves as he sighs in exasperation and gives in.
“Whatever,” he growls, shooting a poisonous look back at the door that your ex hasn’t moved from. Sukuna haughtily pulls his helmet on over his head, flipping his visor down before getting on his bike and accelerating quickly.
Based on the way Sukuna weaves through traffic and carelessly speeds through lights, you know he’s furious. You pull your bike into the parking spot next to him a couple of minutes after he pulls in, finding him pacing in the parking garage.
Shutting off your bike and pulling off your helmet, you approach him with angled brows, trying to reassure him. “Thanks for coming with me, I appreciate it.” He’s blinded by rage and you’re not even sure if he hears you. “Kuna, I’m okay,” you insist, reaching out to put a hand on his arm but he still brushes past you.
Sighing, you unload your suitcase from the back of your bike and return the bungee cables to the storage compartment of the Ducati as you let Sukuna blow off some steam.
Once everything is ready to go up to Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to him.
“Can we go up to your place?”
“He hurt you,” Sukuna hisses with pupils the size of pinpricks. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know that anger was directed elsewhere.
“It’s nothing really, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Fucking asshole, I should have-”
“Nope, we’re not going into that. I don’t want to know what you think you should have done.”
You grab your suitcase and begin rolling it through the parkade to the elevator, relieved when you hear a frustrated grunt behind you and a pair of keys clinking. The ride up to his apartment is silent, shrouded in anger.
Really, you should be the angry one but if anything, you're more relieved. Relieved that you have someone like Sukuna to stay with, someone who’s so willing to come get you at three in the morning when you need him most.
Sukuna swings the door to his apartment open, slamming against the doorstop loudly before creaking shut. His hand flies to his pocket as he trudges across the apartment, tossing his leather jacket on the couch and leaning out the window as he lights a cigarette.
A puff of smoke leaves his mouth as he swings his head back with closed eyes.
Shaking your head, you decide not to give him a hard time for his bad habit and give him space as you busy yourself with setting the couch up nicely for yourself to sleep on given that you were now homeless, among other things.
Sukuna takes his time at the window, stubbing out his cigarette when it’s barely an inch long and finally approaching you from where you sit on the floor looking through your bag, taking inventory of what you have and what you’ll need to pick up eventually.
Your pretty face smiles up at him when his shadow blocks your view and he finds himself relaxing more from the sight of you than he had from the nicotine.
“Are you okay?” You tilt your head, noting that he seems more calm now and he nods.
“Should be askin’ you that.”
“I’m okay. I mean it,” you insist.
His eyes flicker down to your wrist again but he knows better than to doubt you and he knows you can handle the pain. Sitting down on the couch behind you, he leans back and watches you quietly.
“I got the things that were most important, but hopefully I can go back and grab everything else eventually,” you note, more to yourself than him. He still hums in acknowledgement. “Why’d you want my bike back so bad, by the way?”
Your friend leans forward on his knees. “So I can still go for rides with you.”
“What, do I make a bad backpack?” You tease with a grin that has Sukuna’s shoulders falling to his sides as his anger subsides completely.
“Hard to drive when you’re feelin’ me up, princess.”
Your lips purse as your cheeks redden, caught off-guard by his nonchalant smirk. You’d felt up his abs a bit during the ride to your old place, sure, but being called out still had the tips of your ears heating up.
You stubbornly avoid his gaze, going back to figuring out if you’d forgotten anything. Deep chuckles resonate from behind you as your new roommate ruffles your hair and gets to his feet.
“By the way we’re goin’ out tonight.”
You tilt your head, eyes following Sukuna as he saunters over to the fridge and pulls out an energy drink.
“Where’d you have in mind?” You ask curiously, not entirely sure you’re in the mood to go out.
“That new rom com movie or whatever that you wanted to see is showing tonight. I got tickets.” He reaches back into the fridge and pulls out your favorite beverage, tossing it to you.
You barely manage to catch it, mumbling a thank you. “I don’t really know if I’m up for it,” you admit, staring at the drink in your hands.
“I already bought the tickets,” he shrugs, laying back on the couch again. “Suck it up.”
Your nose wrinkles in distaste but you know it’s likely for the best that you’re out of the house so you do, in fact, suck it up.
It quickly becomes time for the movie and you find yourself back in the parking garage a couple of hours before sunset.
“Can you drive?”
“You gonna feel me up again?” Sukuna raises a brow at you, but a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.
“... Can I?”
Your confidence catches him off-guard and he blanches, his lips parting as he stares at you. His eyes flicker to your lips and that single action has your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. The fluttering in your stomach as you wait for him to react is enough to make you wretch and you consider yourself lucky that he seems to pull himself together as his lips tug upwards into a sly grin.
He takes a step forward, dipping his head down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t stray too low while I’m drivin’.”
You’re left choking on air as Sukuna’s tone sends a jolt of electricity straight up your spine, setting your entire body ablaze. Your eyes trail the length of his body, pausing as you watch him pull his leather jacket over his thin white shirt. The way his muscles ripple and tense with each movement has you swallowing hard as you realize just how built and toned he really is.
You’re thankful you aren’t caught and are spared from Sukuna’s teasing as you hop onto the back of his bike, purposefully making a show of feeling up his abs. Moving from his pecs, across the peaks and valleys of each set of muscles, down until you take pause as you feel the waist of his pants connect with the tips of your fingers.
Sukuna groans, looking over his shoulder before he puts on his helmet. “Not while I’m driving, got it?”
You nod at him, batting your eyelashes sweetly. He huffs, adjusting the crotch of his pants before pulling his helmet on. He waits for you to follow suit before pulling out of the parking garage and heading to the theater.
Sukuna’s warmth is both a beacon of hope and a searing flame to your skin. A comfort and an exciting new idea to explore. You hold onto him tightly, your body melting into his heat as he drives much more carefully with you hooked onto him than he had earlier in the day.
Sukuna pulls into a spot by the front door of the theater and waits for you to let go before hopping off of the bike himself.
“Popcorn?” He asks you mildly, hands in his pockets.
“Um, that’s alright.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I don’t need popcorn.”
“Don’t need or don’t want?”
You pause, your brow knit as you silently question what he means, but Sukuna’s seen this play out before with your ex and he wants to break this habit.
“Do you want popcorn, y/n?”
You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly. “Yeah, it’d be nice.”
Sukuna nods, surprising you as he grabs not your forearm or bicep as he usually does, but your hand. His much larger, veiny hand folds over yours, his fingers tangling with yours. Your hand is so small in his and even the feeling of your hand against him feels like a reminder of just how cute you are to him.
Your cheeks are surely dusted in a red glow, but you don’t mind given the surprisingly pleasant eagerness in your chest.
With popcorn in-hand, Sukuna leads you into the theater, taking you to your seat and relaxing into the reclining chair. He lifts the arm rest between you, not once disconnecting your hands like it’s the most natural action in the world.
And in all honesty, it is. Everything with Sukuna is easy. It feels right. It feels right in a way you’re not familiar with and it’s exhilarating.
Given the cheesy scenario he set up for, you half-expect Sukuna to make a move during the movie, but his thumb simply continues to rub soothing lines over your knuckles.
It’s after the movie that he surprises you.
Bounding down the stairs ahead of Sukuna as you tug him along with you, you’re practically gushing about the movie that you’re positive he barely paid attention to. It isn’t his style of film but he doesn’t mind either way.
“-I mean come on, how can you not love Owen Wilson in that role?”
“Mm.”
“-and it’s so charming watching him start to learn and care about her world-”
“Mhmm.”
“-oh my god and when she realizes she loves him and she shows up at the tournament-”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Despite how little he has to say about the movie, he’s just happy you enjoyed it.
“-and when he gets her flooowers?-”
Sukuna chuckles as you continue to gush over the movie at him. Still hand-in-hand, he tugs you along, quietly listening to your rambles as he makes his way to his bike. His chest swirls with anticipation as you pay his actions no mind when he turns towards the storage compartment of his bike as you continue rambling on.
It takes only a moment for his hand to reach the delicate item he’s in search of, deftly wrapping two fingers around the dainty object. Keeping his hand behind him, he turns to you with a soft smile. Lidded eyes stare at you with mirth, an expression that isn’t typical for Sukuna, so your rambles begin to fade into silence as you tilt your head curiously at him.
“Flowers, hm?” He asks, pulling a beautiful, blooming red rose out from behind him. He holds it out to you, pulling you closer by the hand that’s still intertwined with his as you purse your lips in disbelief.
“I- I-” You stammer over your words as your mouth goes dry, eyes fixed on the gorgeous flower held in Sukuna’s fingers.
It’s almost a strange sight to behold- the same man you’d seen passed out on your couch dozens of times, the man you’d had to bail out of jail on more than one occasion, the same man who grumbled and complained every single time you went to Red’s Bar- now holding a dainty little rose for you.
“W- when did you even have time to get this?” You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. “Sukuna, this is so much I-”
His brows raise as your rambles begin again and although he’s flustered you more times than he can count over the years, he’s never seen you genuinely nervous like this.
“-you really didn’t have to do anything like this for me-”
“Y/n.”
“-taking me to the movies is already a big deal and I know the last day has been a hassle for you-”
“Y/n,” Sukuna chuckles this time, his grip on your hand tightening as he squeezes it in an effort to get your attention.
“-I didn’t get you anything, I don’t-”
“Y/n,” Sukuna leans down, capturing your lips against his. His lips are soft and the kiss is uncharacteristically sweet. His hand slides out of your grasp, sliding up your arm and coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He parts from your lips with a smirk. “Shut up, princess.”
You stare breathlessly at him, eyes flickering wildly between his eyes, his lips, before resting down on the rose again.
“Take the damn flower.”
“R-right!” You gingerly reach out, holding the stem as you bring it up to your nose. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”
“Well, someone had to,” it comes out as more of a grumble as his brow furrows, but his fingers curl into the skin of your waist as he speaks, betraying the meaning behind his words.
“Mhmm, someone.” You agree teasingly, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Kuna.” You rise up onto your tiptoes, resting a hand on his chest as you lean up to kiss him, just barely able to reach his jaw.
His chest vibrates in a content hum. “So short,” he mocks, tilting his head to meet your lips again. Pulling his other hand from his pocket, he pulls the flower from your fingers, setting it in the storage behind him and finding your waist to bring you flush against him.
Your hands slide up the length of his hard musculature until you find his neck. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at his nape and another hum slips from his lips, swallowed by your kiss.
He leans down to meet your height better as the kiss gains urgency, years of pent up emotions flooding from Sukuna’s every movement. His fingers curl into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.
“Kuna?”
He grunts into the kiss, smirking against your lips when he slides a hand from your waist down to your hips.
“Can we-” you breathe out between kisses, “-go home?”
Sukuna parts from your lips, examining your expression with blown pupils, so wide you can barely see the deep color of his irises. He swallows hard, his chest rising and falling fast as he nods silently.
You let out a surprised squeal when he grabs you by the hips and effortlessly lifts you onto his bike.
“-can do it myself,” you insist but Sukuna doesn’t register your words, too caught up in the intoxication of your smell, your feel, your taste. He wants more.
Hopping on the bike in front of you, he waits for your helmet to be on before he starts his Ducati and throws his helmet on. Your hands take their place around his toned abdomen, sliding down without a moment’s thought.
“Behave,” Sukuna hisses loud enough that you hear him even over the sound of his bike’s engine. He doesn’t need your visor up to know you’re smiling innocently at him.
He clicks his tongue and speeds out of the parking lot back towards his apartment. Though he’s still more careful driving with his sweet little backpack clinging to him, you’re not oblivious to the fact that he is driving quicker than usual.
Relaxing against Sukuna’s toned back brings with it a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s strange, despite him speeding through traffic and the sparking tension between you both, it’s easy to close your eyes and relax against him.
It’s not a feeling you’ve had with your ex for a long time. Although you ignored the flags throughout your relationship and defended him when he didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t always that way, but Sukuna has always been a safe and worry-free escape from the world for you. Since the first day he drove into your life, since you first realized that Sukuna enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.
He’s a hard book to read and an easy presence to be in.
Your eyes flicker open, not realizing you’d grown so relaxed holding onto him that he’d already pulled into his parking spot, parking beside your Kawasaki.
Sukuna instinctively moves to get off his bike, expecting you to follow him, but pauses when you move rather sluggishly behind him. Pulling his helmet off, he shakes his head in an effort to fix his hair before he eyes you over his shoulder.
“You gonna get off?”
To anyone else, it might come across as aggressive, but his tone is mild as ever.
“Sorry, Kuna.”
You exhale and push off the bike with a hand resting on Sukuna’s shoulder blade. He watches you curiously, tucking you under his shoulder and leading the way back up to his apartment.
Pulling out his keys in the elevator, he ducks his head to get a good look at your expression.
“Tired?”
“No! … Well, yeah, but I was just relaxing,” you tell him and he hums, his eyes swirling with mirth. You cross an arm over your chest, your breast pressing against your arm. His eyes flicker to the sight, pupils dilating as he swallows hard. “See something you like, Sukuna?”
Your lidded eyes and purring voice has the taller man teetering on the edge of self control. His mind reels with thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the elevator and the moment the door opens, he’s making his way to his apartment like a man on a mission.
Desire pools between your thighs at his eagerness, made more apparent in the way he fumbles at the door with his keys.
It’s not even a second after the door is closed and he maneuvers you against the door, helmets on the ground as his fingers move to flip the lock behind you before they travel up the side of your body, admiring your curves before he cups your face.
He captures your lips, hungry to taste you again. He wants to devour you, he wants to mark you and make you his. Your lips move in tandem with his, matching his fervor with equal eagerness.
Your fingers rake his chest, thumbs sliding over the length of his collarbones. The feeling of his broad chest beneath your hands drives you crazy and you press back against him, your breasts pressing against the expanse of his chest.
“Kuna, wait,” you breathe, chest heaving as you part from him. Vermillion irises lock on you as he pulls back, his fingers gripping your waist almost bruisingly. “This isn't…” You pause, your mouth opening and closing hesitantly.
“Out with it,” Sukuna encourages hoarsely.
You shoot him a wry smile at his blunt impatience. “This isn’t just a hookup for me, you know.”
He raises a brow at you. “You think that’s what this is for me?” You might even assume he sounds offended.
“No! No,” you clarify, shaking your head as your pretty eyes go wide. He rolls his shoulders, leaning his face closer to yours as he intently watches you. “I just… I-” you pause again, avoiding his intense gaze.
“It’s not a one night stand, y/n.” Sukuna’s pupils shrink as he speaks solemnly. He feels you relax in his grip, your eyes coming up to meet his. “Relax n’ let me take care of you.”
Your cheeks redden at your best friend’s boldness and you shuffle as you press your thighs together.
“I better not be your rebound, y’know.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice now, the elbow holding him up against the door sliding down as his face grows closer to you. God, he’s tall. He’s tall and built like a monster, and between the size of his hands, his muscles, not to mention his height… Your wide, almost timid eyes flicker down to his crotch. He catches the action and smirks. “Don’t get nervous now,” he leers.
“I’m not!” You squeak, the blush spreading to the tips of your ears. “And… you’re not a rebound.” You grab his shirt collar as you pull him in for a kiss, much sweeter than the covetous one you’d shared a minute ago.
Sukuna’s eyes flutter shut as he finds himself relaxing into your touch when you slide your hands up his neck and into his dark, undyed undercut.
“I like you, Ryo.” You admit when you pull back just enough for the words to reach his ears. His smirk can be felt against your lips.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” In true Sukuna fashion, that’s his way of reciprocating your admission, because he doesn’t do feelings. But you know. You know exactly what he means.
You grin against his lips, giggling like a giddy school girl who’s just seen her crush smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles at your sudden timid delight.
“You’re such a loser,” he chuckles, his hand moving from your waist to hold your chin. He kisses you softly, your giggles persisting against his lips. Your fingers curl gleefully in his hair when he pulls back with impishly narrowed eyes. “You’re makin’ it hard to kiss you.”
“Sorry,” you chirp, your eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s just cute- you’re cute.”
“Me?” He pulls back, standing at his full height and making a point of showing off his broad shouldered stance. “Cute?” He tilts his head quizzically as if to prove a point but if anything, you find the strands of hair falling out of place over his forehead cute.
“Yeah, you.”
“I’ll show you cute,” he grumbles, and suddenly you’re lifted off the ground effortlessly. You shriek in surprise in his ear as you grasp at the back of his leather jacket. He mumbles something about you being a brat before dumping you on the couch and crawling over your body.
His form looms over you and you’re both suddenly very aware of the immense size difference between you both, something which might be one of Sukuna’s favorite things. He loves how tiny you are, how easily he can handle you.
Sukuna takes pause, his usually dour gaze filled with longing, admiring what he’d wanted for so long as you stare back at him with wide eyes. He loves the fiery attitude you always sport, but this flustered side of you is new to him and he drinks it in like a drug.
Your chest rises and falls quickly, eyes darting from his arms that cage you in, down the expanse of his chest that peeks through his V-neck, back up to that alluring tattooed face. His sharp jaw, his ever-present smirk, his intense stare, it’s all so goddamn sexy and you’re flustered to silence like a deer in the headlights being hunted by a wolf.
“Funny, you seem to have lost your bark,” he comments tantalizingly, dipping down to kiss your jaw. Now with your body trapped beneath him, he feels the way your hips twitch. “What happened to the brat from earlier?”
You swallow down a moan as his voice sets you ablaze. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, fingers gripping him tightly. You take a breath to readjust and bat your lashes up at him as you push through the sudden nerves that seem to chase you. “Brat? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kuna.”
Sukuna grins, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “There she is,” he hums, bringing himself down to his elbows to kiss you wholly. His lips move urgently against yours, tongue swiping your lower lip almost immediately. He groans when you grant him access by parting your lips, drinking in your taste. You gasp in surprise as his tongue piercing grazes your tongue, a strangely pleasurable new feeling.
Your hands slide from his biceps up his neck, keeping him close, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss. When you shift beneath him to clench your thighs as heat pools in your lower abdomen, he groans.
“Fuck,” he hisses into your mouth, catching you by surprise when he nips your lower lip. He pulls back for only a moment but in that split second the look on your best friend’s face tells you everything you need to know. You’re his prey, and he’s about to devour you.
“Kuna-!” You gasp in surprise when kisses down the side of your neck, leaving behind purple bruises as he sucks and nips at the side of your neck. Reaching the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, his teeth graze your skin before gently sinking in, testing the waters with a glance at your face.
You whine, squirming beneath him.
Sukuna withdraws with a smirk, running his tongue soothingly over the reddened skin. “Kinky little thing, aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling his hips against you so roughly you whimper. “Shit,” he mumbles and returns to his ministrations, his hips rolling against yours like a dog in heat.
“Sh-shut up, Kuna…” you groan, rutting your hips up into him. His movement stutters with pleasure and he nips your skin again in response. “Darlin’, hold onto me,” his husky voice commands against the skin of your ear.
“Hm? Ah-!”
Sukuna slides a muscular arm beneath the small of your back, pressing you to him and urging your arms to cling to his shoulders. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, holding your small frame to him in one arm.
He carries you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as you press kisses to his collarbone, leaving behind marks of your own. He hums, plopping you down onto the bed and standing to shrug his jacket off and unbuckle his belt, letting it and his jeans drop to the floor.
You’re sure your face is red as a tomato, pupils dilated as you admire his body, your gaze landing on the boner that’s pulling the fabric of his black Calvin Klein boxers taut. You swipe your tongue out over your lips, bringing your lower lip between your teeth.
Your best friend grins, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You let out a surprised gasp, gripping at the sheets at either side of you.
“G’nna take my time n’ treat her right,” he purrs, falling over you as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He could be talking about you or your pussy, it doesn’t matter either way.
He lifts your shirt up over your head and you arch your back to make it easier. You’re so pliant for him and he adores your obedience, adores the desperate, lustful look in your eyes.
“Shit, girl,” he mumbles, his eyes eating you alive on the spot as he admires your body. You’re so small in comparison to the way his figure looms over you.
Catching your gaze, he squeezes one of your breasts, slipping the other from the fabric of your lace bra to press the warm flat of his tongue to your nipple. You jolt as pleasure buzzes through your body, moaning when he sucks the hardened bud between his lips. The cool metal of his piercing intensifies the pleasure when it grazes your skin and causes goosebumps to raise on your arms.
Your hands find his hair, tugging enough that Sukuna smirks against the plush of your skin.
“So needy,” he hums. Your thighs clench around his waist as the vibration of his voice against your skin rocks through you.
Your lidded eyes stare down at him and you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off. He complies, tossing it across the room. His heavily tattooed chest, abdomen, arms- he’s gorgeous and you can barely believe he’s standing over you right now, eyes for only you.
“Kuna,” you mumble between moans, jerking as he flicks your nipple with a smug grin.
He mutters out a ‘what’ before sinking his teeth into your breast. You gasp, eyes widening and bucking your hips against him as your head swings back into the mattress. As you arch your back for him, Sukuna deftly slips your bra off.
“Stop being a tease,” you plead, the hard length of his cock twitching against your core as you tighten your legs.
“A tease? What do you want then, hm?” His voice is cocky, knowing. He wants you on your knees begging.
“Kunaaaa,” you groan, laying the back of your arm across your eyes, suddenly timid.
Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling your arm away from your face. He grabs your other arm and holds them both down above you with one large hand. “What do you want, brat?” His face is inches away from yours now and he rolls his hips against your core teasingly despite the ache he feels.
“I-” you pant, pausing to look at his intense stare. “Wan’ you to eat me out.”
“Yeah?” He hums, lowering his head so that his lips brush yours. “Thought you had manners?”
“Please, Kuna,” you beg in a whiny voice. Sukuna smirks, getting to his knees at the edge of the bed and draping his arm over your hips to hold them down as he sprawls your legs out before him.
“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he groans, his breath warm against the fabric of your panties. He wastes no time hooking his fingers through the fabric to pull them aside. His digits brush your folds as you buck your hips in a desperate attempt at friction.
Chuckling softly, Sukuna languidly licks up your cunt, savoring your taste with the slow movement. You squirm beneath him, raking your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips towards his tongue.
“Patience,” Sukuna hums and flicks his tongue out to circle your clit. His piercing grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes go wide with pleasure.
“Such a- hah- asshole- ah-!” Sukuna doesn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he pushes his long tongue into your dripping chasm, your walls clenching around the muscle in ecstasy.
Sukuna groans as your fingers tug his hair. He lets you buck your hips into his mouth and ride his face, relishing in the sound of your moans and pants.
The feeling of his tongue inside you is already so intense that when he brings a thumb up to flick your clit, the sudden desire that pulses through your body straight to the knot tightening in your core has you bucking your hips in surprise. His grip on your hips fastens as he holds you down again, keeping you from squirming out of his grasp.
The desire and heat pooling in your core quickly grow in intensity as Sukuna’s experienced tongue plunges through your folds, drinking up your arousal.
“K-Kuna- I- I’m gonna-” your words are mere babbles as you try to speak through the bliss, your orgasm steadily approaching.
“Let me taste it, princess.”
The feeling of his voice with his tongue within you, the way his piercing suddenly flicks your gummy walls, his thumb on your clit, the way he calls you princess, it’s so much that your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, causing your body to jolt and jerk against the mattress.
Sukuna’s thumb leaves your clit as he holds down one of your thighs to keep you from crushing his head as you moan and pant out his name while your body spasms. He slows his ministrations to drink every last drop of your orgasm before flicking your clit with his tongue one last time, pleased when you jolt.
He pushes himself up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.
“Shit, you’re hot,” he mutters. You barely have a moment to come down from your high before he’s pulling you to the floor by your waist, dropping you on your knees. His hungry expression and throbbing cock tell you everything you need to know as you look up at him through your lashes.
Your fingers curl around the waist of his boxers as you pull them down his thighs. His rock-hard erection slaps against his abs as you free it from the confines of the fabric. Sure, Sukuna is a monster of a man at nearly seven feet tall of solid muscle mass and you’d felt him grinding against you, but your eyes still widen at the sight of his cock.
You feel your mouth water as you stare at the angry red tip, veins protruding and pulsing with desire on either side.
“Think you can take it?” He asks and although it’s a teasing and husky tone he uses with you, he is genuinely asking as well. You nod eagerly and he grins. “Good girl,” he purrs.
Bringing a hand up to his cock, you wrap your fingers daintily around the thick base, looking up at those glimmering vermillion eyes as you run your tongue from base to tip, eliciting a heavy groan from the man.
“Christ,” he groans, his head flying back in pleasure. You smirk and take the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit before teasingly pulling back with a pop!
His hips shudder as he does everything in his power to stop himself from using your mouth, to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat with no warning.
“Needy, Ryo?”
You don’t expect the way that sets him off, lights his desire ablaze anew as he fists your hair and leans down with a clenched jaw to look you in the eyes.
You whimper in surprise, closing your thighs from where you sit on your knees as your cunt pulses from the way he handles you so roughly.
“Let’s get it straight right now which of us is needy,” he growls with a smirk, eyeing the way you shift your thighs. “You gonna be a good little slut for me?”
You nod up at him, pupils dilating as he tugs your hair. He grins, narrowing his eyes. “Words, woman.”
“Yes, Kuna,” you purr back at him. The wild look in his eyes intensifies as he receives your consent and pushes the tip of his cock past your lips. His jaw goes slack in pleasure as you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up his precum.
“Shit,” he groans out, watching as you take his cock without breaking eye contact while he thrusts further into your mouth. You gag when he reaches the back of your throat, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes and you shut them as you take his length. “Ah ah, look at me. Takin’ me so well.”
Sukuna knows you can’t take his entire cock in your mouth, he knows there’s a fairly large size difference between the both of you. It doesn’t stop the way he pushes your head down on his cock watching the way tears run down your cheeks as you so obediently let him handle you.
Saliva runs down the length of his cock and you bring a hand up to the base, pumping what you can’t fit in your throat. His hand pulls your mouth off his cock, adjusting his hand to hold your head back against the bed so that he can relentlessly fuck into you, massive cock hitting the back of your throat and gagging you with each thrust.
He throws his head back as you pump the base of his shaft while he fucks you, being his perfect little doll. His abs flex and twitch when your muscles tense as you swallow around him.
“Such a nasty fuckin’ throat.” He barely gives you any time to breathe as his pace increases, along with the pace of your hand to match. His chest heaves as he moans, letting you dig your nails into his thigh for purchase while he uses your throat.
His cock twitches as you moan when he hits the back of your throat and his eyes shut tight with pleasure, jaw going slack. When he jolts again with the next thrust, you know he’s close so you hum contentedly, sending vibrations up his shaft and causing his hips to jerk erratically as he chases his high.
“F-fuck,” he groans out before his hips stutter and your eyes widen when his cum unloads down your throat, thick ropes of salty sweet arousal swallowed as he keeps himself warm within your mouth. You move your lips slowly around his girth, milking every last drop of his orgasm. You pull back after a moment to allow yourself a chance to breathe, panting as you stare up at him.
His chest heaves and his cock twitches every few seconds, telling of the orgasm he’s just had. Still, his eyes burn with desire when he finally opens them.
He reaches down to pick you up and sets you at the edge of the bed on all fours roughly.
He squeezes your ass before slapping it once. Your body jolts in surprise as you gasp.
“Princess, you on any birth control?”
“Mhmm, you can go raw.”
You hear him mumble a curse beneath his breath. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he tells you, catching the way you glance over your shoulder at him and nod.
In spite of the rough way he uses and handles you, he’s still very attentive to your pleasure and comfort.
He pays no mind to the fact that you actually liked the panties you’re wearing as he physically tears them off of your body, tossing the ripped fabric aside. You whine in complaint, shooting him a look from over your shoulder.
“I’ll buy ya new ones,” he huffs, returning his attention to your body.
Squeezing your ass in both palms, he leans down and buries his face in your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. He hums at how wet you still are, moving a hand up your spine to hold you down and keep you arched for him.
His teeth sink into the plump of your ass and you squeak at the sudden burst of pain that quickly twists to pleasure when he soothingly laps over the mark he’s left.
He slides his hand down from squeezing your plump ass to glide a finger through your lubricated folds. You lean into his touch, gasping when he suddenly plunges one long finger into your lubricated pussy.
Your walls are tight as they pulse around his long finger. He eases another digit in, pumping them slowly as he realizes just how tight you are.
“Relax, darlin’,” he hums soothingly, curling his fingers against your walls a couple of times before he finds your g spot. His voice is such a stark contrast to his rough tendencies, but it’s soothing to have him so worried for your comfort.
“Ryo, f-fuck-” you moan out as his fingers languidly curl against your gummy walls which gradually relax against his long fingers. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing around nothing and craving his touch as you shift your hips in search of friction with a whine.
Sukuna grunts when he lines himself up with your plump cunt, pumping himself a couple of times before he slowly eases his tip into you. Your eyes widen at the delicious burn of the stretch, fingers curling in the sheets as you adjust to his massive size. And god this is only the tip.
You cry out, the feeling of his girthy cock filling you up blurring your vision as the pain transitions to pleasure before the process begins all over again with each movement he makes. His cock throbs, making you feel impossibly full.
Sukuna wants to ruin you, he wants to tear you apart on his cock, but he doesn’t want to hurt his sweet little best friend, so he watches the way your face contorts in mild pain, waiting for your expression to relax as he slowly feeds you his cock, inch by inch.
“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’,” Sukuna purrs, his thumb stroking your back in contrast to the fact that he’s still holding you down and keeping you arched for him.
His cock head brushes your cervix, pressing against it as he bottoms out, fingers curling against your back at how tight you’re squeezing him as he waits for you to adjust.
Your shoulders relax beneath his touch and you whimper as he slides his cock out to the tip, setting a moderate pace so as not to shock you. The feeling of his thick, veiny cock is like nothing you’ve ever experienced, his size just so much to take that you moan and whine with each thrust of his cock into your tight hole.
You grip at the sheets beneath you, gasping as Sukuna speeds up his thrusts and presses you hard into the mattress, muffling your moans.
“Kuna- mmph,” you let out a muffled whimper, jolting when he slaps your ass roughly, no longer holding back.
“F-fuckin’- shit-” he groans, his fingers gripping your skin bruisingly as he holds you in place. He leans forward, sliding his hand from your back to your neck, restricting your airflow subtly. Pleasure tears through your spine as he leans forward and pushes in deeper with each thrust, pulling moans and screams of his name from deep in your throat.
“K-Kuna, I’m- hah- close,” you whimper, words muffled by the sheets beneath you. He loosens his fingers from your neck, grabbing your waist with both hands as he pulls your ass closer to him, pounding into you faster as he chases his own high.
“Shit, y’r such a good lil slut for me,” he groans, feeling your walls tighten around his thick length with each thrust.
Pleasure tightens deep within your core, knotting and curling as he fucks you so deliciously that your juices are already dripping from your cunt around his hilt. His eyes lock on the sight and he throws his head back in pleasure, his own high not far behind.
With one last hit against your cervix, your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before as your entire body shakes and jolts, your knees and legs giving out.
If Sukuna wasn’t holding you up, you surely would have collapsed as stars cloud your vision and you moan his name like a mantra. Your eyes are glossy and your mind delirious as he continues to fuck you through your high, your walls milking him in a way that has him quickly climbing towards his release.
With only a few more erratic thrusts that have you whining under him in overstimulation, his cock twitches suddenly as his entire load fills you up, mixing with your juices and dripping out of your swollen lips down your thighs that Sukuna is still holding up.
He moans as he slowly lets your body go and you sink to the mattress, panting beneath him as his cock slips from between your thighs. His eyes flicker to your pretty pussy, his cum leaking out with each pulse of your walls. His chest heaves as well as he slowly gets to his feet and walks to the side of the bed, sliding up against the headboard.
Sukuna pulls your body up from where you’ve collapsed, wrapping his arms around you as his sweat-slicked skin sticks to yours. He’s much gentler now, looking you over for any signs that he might have hurt you accidentally, but when you finally open your eyes, they’re glossy with pleasure and filled with adoration.
He can’t help the way he genuinely smiles, not a common thing for the tepid biker, but when you grin and giggle in return, it makes his heart jump.
He practically turns to putty in your hands and as you silently bask in the afterglow of the best sex of your life and lean into Sukuna’s embrace.
“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” He asks after a moment and you’re surprised by the way his fingers softly graze your skin.
“You were great Kuna, don’t worry,” you answer, yawning afterwards.
He hums in relief, leaning his head back for a moment before taking it upon himself to get you cleaned up before you pass out. Grabbing a towel, he wipes your thighs and tosses the towel in a hamper at the edge of the room before pulling the covers over your figure and crawling in behind you.
“Ryo?”
Sukuna hums quizzically.
“Do I get to know how long now?”
“You’re a brat,” he growls in your ear as he pulls you flush against his chest, his arms folded around your middle.
“Yeah yeah, just answer the question,” you grouse, rolling your eyes. You have an inkling of a feeling that you know when he realized his feelings for you, but you’re curious nonetheless.
He sighs, knowing you’ll never let him live this down. “Dunno. It’s been a while,” he avoids the question.
You flip in his arms to face him with raised brows. He groans, avoiding your gaze.
“I guess around the time you got with your ex,” he admits, his eyes locked on the wall behind you as he tucks your head under his chin to avoid your intent gaze.
“Is that why you stopped seeing people?”
“You noticed?”
“Kuna, you had a new girl under your arm every time I saw you for a while.”
He grunts, pulling you tighter to his body.
Giggling, you kiss his collar bone. “That’s sweet.”
Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as he lets out a long sigh. You can practically feel the way his cheeks are heating up as you tease him, something that you’d only managed a handful of times in all the years you’ve known him.
“Sorry, am I embarrassing the big bad motorcycling bad boy?” You push, squeaking in protest as Sukuna wastes no time in shoving you away from him in an attempt to push you off the bed. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” You insist, looking to him for mercy as you cling to his arms, clutching desperately at the flexed muscles.
“And?”
“And…” you search for the words he’s looking to hear in his eyes, gripping his arms tighter. “I won’t do it again?”
“And?”
“I’m sorry I ate the rest of your leftovers this morning?”
His brow furrows. Oh shit.
“I mean… no I didn’t. They’re still there,” you mumble, avoiding his judgemental gaze guiltily.
Sukuna’s hold on your shoulder begins to lax as you teeter at the edge of the bed, threatening to drop you to the floor. You scramble to try to grip him tighter.
“I’ll buy you new food!”
Sukuna sighs and drags you back to him. You let out a relieved puff of air against his chest, snuggling back into his warmth. “Jus’ wanted you to say when it was for you.”
You tilt your head up at him, only able to see his chin. “When what was?”
“You know. When you realized what you think of me or whatever.” Sukuna’s gruff tone is telling that he isn’t used to such sincere conversations. Although you’ve known him a long time and he’d told you about damn near every sexual encounter he’s had, Sukuna’s most record-breaking relationship was a shocking three months.
Of course, Sukuna isn’t a romantic, and she didn’t know him well enough to know that he was putting in effort, so it didn’t last long.
“Oh. When I realized I like you?”
He grunts.
You hum in thought, moments throughout your friendship scrolling through your mind like a slideshow.
Of course, your forefront thought is when Sukuna first stepped off that stupidly well taken care of Ducati and surprised you when he managed to not only get you home on a running bike, but let you buy him a drink. He’s always been ridiculously attractive, but no, those weren’t feelings.
You think of all the times you hung out with friends and they would point out his change in behavior. You’d always think on the statement, watch the way that aloof look of his turns mild when he faces you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much.
You ponder on the time you’d called him on a whim early in your friendship when your date had bailed on you. Sukuna did not want to see the cheesy romance movie you had tickets for, but he’d sucked it up and shown up. You’d offered to buy him dinner as a thank you, but he paid regardless. It was the kind of thing a real date would do, but he’d complained so much you brushed the thought away.
When you were entirely too obsessed with Game of Thrones and insisted he be your king in a big fur cloak for Halloween, maybe then something had changed.
“You want me to be some guy from the show you like?” He’d grumbled and guffawed over having to dress up at all, insisting he’d been planning to put in minimal effort.
“Pleaaase, Kuna?” You were practically on your knees by the time he’d agreed with a roll of his eyes. “You’d make a good Robb Stark,” you insist before second-guessing yourself. “Well, if he was grumpy and kind of a dick.” You shrug, grinning up at him as he shoots you a begrudging look through narrowed eyes.
It only takes you a few days to put together the costume given the abundance of medieval king and knight costumes around.
His arms cross over his rugged chest, the fabric of his shirt pulled taut by the movement. “You can’t be serious.” He stares at the tight faux leather coat you hand him with a scowl.
“He wears something similar!”
“I’m not wearing this.”
“Please, you said you would!” You pout at him as you sport your best puppy dog eyes.
“No.”
You jut your bottom lip out, taking a step towards him as you shove the leather top to his chest. His eyes narrow, gears turning in his head until he shuts his eyes, giving in.
Your eyes light up as he pulls the top from you, groaning as he pulls it on over his shirt. It’s tight on him, which you expected given Sukuna’s sheer size, but it’s a strangely hot look on your rugged best friend. Even more so when he lets you drape the cape over his shoulders and set a cute little crown on his head.
“No, absolutely not,” he hisses, slapping your hand away when you try to clip the crown in place with a bobby pin.
“You’re such a pain,” you tease as you try again, holding an extra pin between your teeth.
Standing back, you admire your work as you receive a very unamused look in return. Sukuna’s build makes for a very kingly stature in spite of the contrasting tattoos and it makes him hot. In fact, you’re half afraid someone will whisk him away at the Halloween party given how nicely he’s cleaned up.
Your lips twitch downwards at the thought. You don’t want him to be whisked away. You want your king by your side.
“So?”
Snapping you from your thoughts, your eyes light up again. “You look great,” you tell him with a grin. His eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize.
He hums, examining your expression. “Well, go get ready then. Gonna sweat through all this leather n’ shit.”
“Oh like you aren’t used to leather,” you roll your eyes, but you oblige, getting your matching Talisa Stark outfit on.
When you return to Sukuna sitting on his couch, you muster your best impression of your character. “My king?”
Your best friend’s attention turns to you, eyes widening as you approach him in a floor-length queen’s gown with a matching gray cloak and a crown pinned into your hair. “Shit, y’ look good,” he breathes out.
Your cheeks heat up and you scratch at the back of your neck. “Thanks, Kuna.” You clear your throat and your mind to the best of your ability as you offer him a hand. “Ready?”
He hums, taking your hand before grabbing his keys and offering you his arm. “My queen?”
You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the first spark. The first real spark. As he loosened up throughout the night and repetitively called you his princess, you knew you were spent. Each and every time he used the name had you giggling up a storm and while you’d brushed it off as intoxication at the time, you knew the truth deep down.
So when he’d returned to his aloof self the following morning, you swallowed down your feelings.
You couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend and he didn’t have a good track record with relationships. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared, even now.
“Halloween,” you utter finally, unsure of just how long you’ve been silently contemplating an answer in his arms.
“Figures,” his chest rumbles in brief laughter.
“You knew?”
“Nah, thought it was the alcohol.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. That’s why I started dating other people.”
Sukuna doesn’t respond but he buries his face into the crown of your head, drinking in your warmth, your intoxicating scent, and your soft skin against his as he closes his eyes.
No more other people, you’re his.
“Was it me callin’ you my princess?” He asks of the night you realized you’d caught feelings.
“That, and you make a good Robb Stark.”
He snorts. “I remember being told I was a dick.”
You shrug, smiling against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t retract that statement.”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head and warmth spreads through your body as you relax against him, eyes closing as exhaustion spreads across you like a warm blanket. You know the kiss is a sassy retort, but it shamelessly works on you.
“Fine. I retract my statement.”
“That’s my princess.”
–
“Can you stop moving so much?”
Unsurprisingly, Sukuna’s got an attitude today and he absolutely plans on making it your problem as he huffs.
Your gloved hands work carefully to thoroughly cover every last strand of his short hair with dye. You know very well the only reason he’s being such a menace today is because you’d suggested a change in color and he’s afraid it’ll look bad.
In all your years of knowing him, he’s always had the same pink hair, so you were thrilled he was allowing you the honor of dying it back to its original color, black. You’d actually insisted on orange or red, but black was the only thing he was willing to compromise on.
You make your way back around him and find his scowling face looking up at you. Covering the last few strands of hair over his forehead, you boldly sit on his lap.
His demeanor changes in an instant as you straddle him and his hands eagerly find your hips and begin roaming up your waist and back down to your thighs. You shoot him a warning glance as you accidentally smudge some black dye on his forehead, but he pays you no mind as he continues his ministrations.
“Kuna,” you warn sternly, trying to wipe off the black marking before it leaves a stain, but it’s too late. You sigh and look over your work.
“Just a quickie, c’mon,” he insists with a grin.
“I don’t want to be covered in black dye,” you retort and Sukuna groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “How long do I gotta wait?”
“Thirty minutes.”
He frowns, eyes following your movements as you pull off your gloves and throw them in the trash of your shared apartment. He can’t for the life of him tear his eyes from you as you proceed to wash your hands before grabbing a damp towelette to wipe at his forehead.
Suddenly feeling like a child as you take care of the marking on his forehead, he swats at your hand.
“You’re a menace,” you mutter, avoiding his hand with practiced precision as you wipe away any traces of hair dye from his face.
He smirks, he likes the way you tease him and if anything it only makes him want to bend you over the table more.
Still, when you pull back to inspect his face and leave a gentle peck on his lips, he knows you don’t mind his attitude.
You know it’s all a ruse of sorts. Not around others, but around you it is.
Dating him for so many years came with its fair share of complications, especially given that Sukuna’s communication skills were about as good as those of a rock. He often didn’t pick up on small signs that you were bothered by things and vice versa, as he’s a tough book to read.
Regardless of any small arguments, nothing ever got out of hand surprisingly. You can’t imagine your life if Sukuna hadn’t shown up to get you the night your ex kicked you out. What Sukuna lacked in the department of emotional understanding, he made up for with his actions.
Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.
Each and every ‘I love you’ is met with a kiss, a squeeze of your arm, a tug towards him.
Sukuna has his own way of showing you he loves you.
He picks you up from work with flowers, shocking those around you when the grumpy-looking tattooed man hands you flowers that surely won’t make it home in great condition on his bike, but it doesn’t matter.
He runs you a bath when he fucks you into oblivion and your legs give out. It may be his own hand that inflicted your weakness, but it doesn’t matter because he shows you just how much he cares for you through his aftercare routine.
He makes your coffee with far too much milk and sugar for his own taste and complains about it the whole time, but it doesn’t matter because he still does it every morning for you.
Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.
When it comes time to wash his hair, he closes his eyes when you help him wash it in the sink. Your fingers move so delicately, taking care to wash out all the dye.
When he dries his hair with a towel and sees the way you delight at the sight of his freshly jet-black hair, he chuckles.
“Why do you never grow your hair out?” You ask, running your hands through his spiked hair. The color suits him and brings out his eyes in the most stunning way, you’re sure you have stars in your eyes from the way you’re staring at him.
“Dunno. The other color looks good,” he shrugs.
“It does!” You agree with a grin, “but so does this!” You insist. “It’s hot.”
He hums, looking himself over in the mirror. In truth, he doesn’t mind it. He only really indulged you because you’d insisted, but it worked out given what he had in mind for the night. It would look good in photos.
“When is Shiu getting here?” You ask curiously, interrupting Sukuna’s thoughts as your short arms wrap around his middle from behind.
“Hour from now.”
You gasp suddenly. “I need to clean up.”
“I can clean you up,” Sukuna smirks, lifting his arms in an attempt to see your face from where you stand behind him.
“Kunaaa,” you whine. “I need time to get ready.”
He groans dramatically. “Fine,” he grumbles, watching as you prance away happily to get ready.
You, Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Shiu, and Uraume were all going out in celebration of Toji’s newest addition to his family, a young boy. It was surprising that he was the first to settle down, but when you’d met his wife, you could see that she was his world, the way he relaxed at her touch and his own edge calmed in the same way Sukuna’s does around you.
Sukuna lays on his bed, watching as you choose a gorgeous black dress that hugs your curves so delectably that he wants to tear it off of you then and there. The whole time, he fumbles with something in his pocket, grateful when you don’t notice the small box accidentally fall from his grasp and onto the bed.
You chat with him about your work the whole time. Sukuna’s mind is elsewhere but given that he’s never all that chatty, you don’t notice. Looking yourself over in the mirror, you let out a relieved breath when you manage to be ready with only a couple of minutes to spare.
“Y’ look gorgeous.” Sultry words are whispered in your ear, followed up by a kiss to your neck as your boyfriend comes up behind you. His hands rest softly on your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder, bending down to your height.
You watch his actions from the mirror, the way his lidded eyes look over the curves of your figure, the way he slides his arms so delicately around your middle to envelop you in a tight hug, it’s these moments that you treasure the most.
The quiet moments where you simply enjoy one another’s presence.
Your lives are so busy that you don’t always get time to yourselves, so melting into his arms in that moment, you wish it would last forever.
Of course forever is a long time, and Shiu certainly doesn’t have the patience to wait in his car that long for you both. You’re not entirely sure why Sukuna doesn’t want to take your bikes, but you don’t push the subject. Your boyfriend’s mind is a mysterious place.
Your group gathers at a restaurant that’s a bit fancy for everyone’s tastes, but Uraume had insisted on it given the occasion. The real surprise was that Sukuna had dressed up a bit as well, sporting a sleek black pair of slacks, a black long sleeve button-up, and a red tie. His ensemble went well with your black dress.
Over the years, Sukuna’s friends had become your friends, long before you started dating, even.
Choso and Yuji were like your little brothers, and Uraume and Toji your closest drinking buddies. They got along surprisingly well with your friends too, especially Choso and Yuji who, unlike Sukuna, seemed to have a talent for getting along with everyone. Shiu generally only tagged along when Toji was around, but their banter was always welcome.
As Toji shows off photos of his son Megumi alongside his daughter Tsumiki, you notice Sukuna whispering something to Choso, casting oddly uneasy glances in your direction. Frowning, you glance over yourself once as though there’s something wrong with your outfit. No… it looks fine. So what’s Sukuna being so secretive about?
You brush it off as nothing, sure you’re overthinking things… until he pulls Toji aside after the man finishes showing off photos of his son.
You tilt your head quizzically to Uraume as you lean over towards them, ensuring Sukuna can’t hear you.
“Is Kuna acting weird to you?”
“Yes,” Uraume follows your gaze, narrowing their eyes. “Perhaps he misses Toji?”
“Are we talking about the same person?” A small smirk quirks up the corners of your lips.
Uraume laughs lightly with you. “You’re right,” they agree, but the thought doesn’t leave your mind.
It’s not like Sukuna doesn’t have off days like everyone else, but this is a strange change of demeanor for him. He seems strangely fidgety, as though he can’t sit still. His leg had bounced under the table throughout most of dinner and he was strangely eager to get the bill.
He had been horny all day, the best guess you have is that maybe it’s that and he wants to get home.
Still, it doesn’t explain him being so secretive throughout the night. In fact, he’d barely spoken a lick to you. Which isn’t entirely uncommon, but in place of words he would normally find comfort in your touch. Yet tonight it felt as though you’d hardly seen him despite sitting next to him most of the night.
You resort to asking him about it later, though an uneasy feeling tugs at you the more you notice it.
You’re almost grateful the dinner is over when it is as you intertwine your fingers with Sukuna like nothing is wrong. Shiu leads the way across the expanse of grass by the restaurant to his car one lot over, chatting with Toji as you and your boyfriend trail behind.
With Choso and Uraume a short distance behind you, you figure now is as good of a time to ask as any.
“Is everything alright, baby?” You tilt your head to look at your boyfriend.
Something glimmers in his eyes, an emotion you don’t recognize. That’s odd.
“‘Course.”
Well, that’s not reassuring.
“Okay… Nothing’s wrong?”
He shoots you a small smirk, kissing the top of your head.
“Nothin’s wrong, princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
You sigh, unable to help the feeling that he has something up his sleeve, but also able to recognize that whatever he’s plotting, he clearly has no intention of telling you. Regardless, you’re relieved that his nonchalant attitude seems to have returned. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about after all.
You miss the way he glances between the two groups, nodding to both as you sigh and give in.
“Alright, Kuna. I love you.”
Sukuna stops to face you and you blink at him perplexedly. Time seems to stand still as his chest rises and falls so quickly, he’s sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest as he fumbles in his pocket for a moment.
You open your mouth to question him but your words die on your tongue when your boyfriend swallows hard before making a quick movement down onto one knee and your eyes go wide, your heart pounding in tandem with his.
It’s just the two of you in that moment, all sounds drowned out by beating hearts, lights and movement a blur behind you both. Everything is just Sukuna. Just you.
“Y/n,” he begins hoarsely. His voice shakes slightly and he curses himself for it but he doesn’t dare look away from your gorgeous wide eyes.
Your lips part, a lump forming in your throat. It feels as though it could choke you and you swallow hard but it only seems to encourage the tears you had yet to notice welling in your eyes.
“I had this whole speech planned,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Practiced n’ everything.”
You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you bring one up to your mouth to suppress your shock and awe when he pulls out a small red velvet box.
“But I don’t think that shit's for me. So I decided to keep it simple.”
Nestled delicately within the box is a gorgeous silver ring with a beautiful diamond held delicately in the center. The ring splits into three separate parts just before the gem that all twist with smaller jewels around the metal.
“Marry me?”
Although he very rarely says it, you know Sukuna loves you.
From the way he holds you to the way he listens and kisses you between words. From the way he brings you lunch at work when you forget to the way he drives more carefully when you’re cuddled behind him on his bike.
Sukuna loves you, and he knows that you’re aware of it.
And you love him too.
“Yes!”
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❦ a/n ; please follow/like/reblog/share if you enjoyed ♡
writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight and © cafekitsune.
#dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/adornedwithlight & art by @/too-many-owls#starmapz works#starmapz oneshot#starmapz#oneshot#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#ryomen sukuna oneshot#sukuna oneshot#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#jjk smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut
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how romantic🫶🏽/s
Another request: Jack sells your organs to buy a train ticket to Santa Fe
#FOLKS WE FINALLY GOT A HEADLINE: NEWSIES CRUSHED AS BULLS ATTACK- CRUTCHIES CALLING ME- DUMB CR!PS JUST TOO DAMN SLOW. GUYS ARE FIGHTING-#BLEEDING-FALLING- THANKS TO GOOD OLD CAPTAIN JACK- WELL CAPTAIN JACK JUST WANTS TO CLOSE HIS EYES AND GO. LET ME GOOOOOOOOOOO FAR AWAYYYYY#SOMEWHERE THEY WONT EVER FIND MEEEE AND TOMORROW WONT REMIND ME OF TODAYYYYYYYYY- WHERE THE CITY’S FINALLY SLEEPINGGGGG AND THE MOON LOOKS#OLD AND GRAYYYYYYYY- I GET ON A TRAIN THATS BOUND FORRRRR SANTAAAA FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AND IMMMMMMM GONEEEEEE- AND IM DONEEEE- NO MORE RUNNIN#NO MORE FIGHTING- NO MORE FAT OLD MEN DENYING ME MYYYYYY PAYYYYYYYYYYYYY JUST THE MOON SOOOOO BIG AND YELLOW- IT TURNS NIGHT RIGHT INTO DAYY#AINT THAT NEAT- LIVIN SWEET- IN SANTA FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- WHERES IT SAY YOU GOTTA LIVE AND DIEEEEE HEREEEEEEEEE- WHERE DOES IT SAY A GUY CANT#CATCH A BREAKKKKKKK- WHY SHOULD YOU ONLY TAKE WHATCHA GIVINNNNNNNN WHY SHOULD YOU SPEND YOURE WHOLEEEEE LIFEEEE LIVIN.NNNNN TRAPPED WHERE#THERE AINT NO FUTUREEEEEE- EVEN AT SEVENTEEEEENNNNNNN- BREAKING YA BACK FOR SOMEONE ELSES SAKE- IF THE LIFE DONT SEEM TO SUIT ‘CHA- HOW BOUT#A CHANGE OF SCENEEEEEEEEE- FARRRR FROM TGE LOUSY HEADLINES- AND THE DEADLINE IN BETWEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN- SANTAAAAAAA FEEEEE MYYYY OLD FRIEND#I CANT SPEND MY WHOLE LIFE DREAMINNNNN- THOUGH I KNOW THATS ALL I SEEM INCLINED TO DOOOOOOOOOOO- I AINT GETTIN ANY YOUNGERRRRRR- AND I WANNA#START BRAND NEWWWWWWWW- I NEED SPACE- AND FRESH AIRRRRRRR- LET EM LAUGH IN MY FACE I DONT CAREEEEEEE- SAVEEEEE MYYYYYY PLACEEEEEEE-#ILL BE THERE— JUST BE REAL IS ALL IM ASKIN- NOT SOME PAINTIN IN MY HEAD- CAUSE IM DEAD IF I CANT COUNT ON YOUUUUUU TODAYYYYYYY- I GOT NOTHIN#IF I AINT GOT- SSSSSSSSAAAAAAANNNNTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!#newsies#jack kelly#santa fe
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Lost on You - Part 1
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader
Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.
AN: Welcome to Part 1! You guys have really warmed by heart with all the anticipation for this series, so thank you so much. I think it's going to be a fun ride. 😉
Song Inspo: “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John. And check out the full “Lost on You Playlist” here. There’s going to be lots of ‘80s music in this series!
Word Count: 4K
Tags/Warnings: SB being an entitled asshole (strap in for a lot of that), misogyny, bullying, and a “meet cute” of sorts…
🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist
Part 1: Siren Song
April 3, 1983
“Why the fuck wasn’t I consulted about this?” Soldier Boy groused.
Arthur Cohen, otherwise known as “The Legend,” released a heavy puff of his cigar within the relative privacy of his office. Vought afforded him a great deal of luxuries, at the cost of days like this.
So, he’d offered the supe one of his most coveted Cubans to pacify him. Because true to form, he was edging closer to a temper tantrum by the minute.
“This decision came from on high, my friend,” Arthur said, with a smile that hid his inner anxiousness. He tapped some ash off his cigar with a finger adorned by a gaudy gold ring. “Stan Edgar, Stillwell, even the entire board of directors signed off on this one.”
“I don’t give a fuck who bought into this PR bullshit,” Soldier Boy postured, crossing his arms across his dark green supe suit as he leaned into the plush seat adjacent to Arthur’s desk. He raised a solid boot on the edge of the newly polished mahogany, and then another, crossing them at the ankles. His cigar was balanced between his teeth in the corner of his mouth.
“The last thing we need,” he said, pausing to inhale. Then he took the cigar from his lips to blow out smoke in hot annoyance. “Is another broad on the team.”
Arthur inclined his head. “I understand your concerns.”
“Do you?” Soldier Boy snorted. “Countess is bitch enough to deal with, believe you me.”
Arthur sympathized. He knew Crimson Countess’s attitude well, but he supposed Soldier Boy had license to say so more than anyone else, considering she was his girlfriend.
“Look, I could give you the numbers: expected profit margins, demographics, etcetera, but you don’t get paid to hear that from me,” Arthur said, with a magnanimous hand gesture and a fair bit of old Jewish charm. “I’m askin’ you to trust me. This girl’s good, okay? Not just a wig and a pair a’ tits. Nah, she’s got talent. Got a set of pipes on her too, my God.”
Soldier Boy gave him a sly look.
“Not like that,” Arthur said. He shook his head in amusement, but not with the face of a man who hadn’t already thought about the girl’s pretty mouth. He stroked his chin.
“She’s…interesting. Well, you’ll see. If she brings up the ratings the way we hope, we’ll be able to relocate Swatto. Hopefully to Siberia. He’s a fucking PR nightmare waiting to happen.”
“All right, the guy’s a moron, but he’s fucking hilarious,” Soldier Boy said, smirking. “Like one of the three Stooges.”
Yeah. Arthur wondered if that homeless man Swatto almost split open in Central Park after a sneeze thought he was funny.
“And her powers. Really?” Soldier Boy went on. His brows drew together then, as he frowned. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”
“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.
But he could see that Soldier Boy wasn’t convinced. The supe rolled his eyes and released another puff.
“Anyway. I’m fucking bored. What’s the next project?” he said. Arthur took an unfiltered breath and peeked at the files strewn across his desk.
“Well, Red Thunder is coming out this fall. We’re pretty sure it’s gonna be the blockbuster of the year,” he replied. “After that, we’ll see about writing a sequel.”
If it makes back the millions we spent in production going over budget, thanks to this asshole’s weekly benders, he mentally added.
“I don’t care about a bullshit sequel,” Soldier Boy said dismissively. “I want to do something new.”
“Something new,” Arthur intoned.
The supe raised a brow. Again, the cigar was balanced between his teeth.
“Yeah.”
He really must be bored, Arthur thought, if he actually wants to work.
“All right, let me brainstorm on that for ya,” Arthur said. “Matter of fact, tell you what. Give me ‘til the end of the week. In the meantime, we’ve got the security team monitoring the police scanner for potential saves.”
The supe didn’t look impressed. His brows furrowed, as if he was irritated that he didn’t get an immediate answer, but his slight nod signaled his agreement before he finally got up from his chair. His boots dragged off Arthur’s desk, knocking over a framed picture of his kids with it, and thudded heavily on the ground. He left the office thereafter.
Arthur heaved a breath of exasperation. He didn’t get paid enough for this shit.
Fucking supes.
But he didn’t dare utter that thought out loud.
It was days before Ben finally crossed paths with the new girl. Not that he’d been giving the idea much thought.
After that day in Arthur’s office, Ben became engrossed in his own devices—namely one of the assistants, Joanna, his stylist, Angela, and Rachel, his maid, after Donna blew him off for dinner for the third night in a row. This time for some tree-hugging conservationist gala of some kind.
Frigid bitch, he thought, shaking his head.
On his way to the gym, he passed the T&T Twins gossiping. Just the sight of them irritated him. Tommy was a kiss-ass, and Tessa shared a brain cell with her brother, so she wasn’t saying much for her gender either.
“Would you pick your tongue off the floor already! You’re so disgusting,” Tessa said, shoving her brother.
“What? She’s fucking hot,” Tommy snapped in defense. When they finally saw Ben coming, Tessa piped down with her attempt at a “demure” greeting.
Tommy came in hot with a too bright voice and a, “Hey, boss!”
Ben gave them a stoic nod, fully intending to blow past them.
“Have you met the new girl yet?” Tommy asked, with an unmistakable pop of his brows and indecent smile.
Ben nearly rolled his eyes. “No.”
And don’t fucking care, his tone conveyed. He continued on his way to the gym. Behind him, the twins gave each other a look, and a shrug.
When he got to the gym, Journey was playing overhead. Ben frowned as he saw Black Noir working out by himself. The young man wasn’t wearing his suit. Instead, he was bare-chested and running on a treadmill with a nearly 90-degree incline, sweat glistening on his skin.
Fucking show off, Ben thought.
Then there was Gunpowder, his young sidekick, practicing his archery. Ben went to him and slapped a hand on his back in greeting, none too gently. The teen stumbled, his arrow landing into the wall instead of the target.
“Spot me at the bench, ey kid,” said Ben. “And grab me a towel while you’re at it.”
“Uh, sure,” Gunpowder replied, ducking his head as he went. Ben got settled at his usual bench press machine, sliding his back down the thin leather cushion. He waited for the kid to add on his fifty-pound weights on either side, until it reached two hundred pounds. That was just the warm-up.
“You met the new girl yet?” Ben asked, after he began lifting his first rep. Gunpowder stood behind his head.
“No, sir,” he said. “Haven’t seen her yet.”
“I haven’t either,” said Noir. He’d come over on his way to the showers, regaining his breath all the while. Ben gave him a sharp side-eye.
“Did I fucking ask you?” he said.
Noir paused. He hid his frown behind a stoic front, since he didn’t have his mask to do it for him. He toweled off his face and chest as he left the gym.
Ben shook his head, but he never broke stride on the bench press.
You seemed to be mysterious.
Barely anyone had seen you, and you hadn’t gone out of your way to ingratiate yourself with every member of the team, like Ben would’ve expected. Donna had set him in her sights on her very first day.
With fake demure in her hazel eyes, a flick of her long red hair over her shoulder, and a sultry smile, she’d let him take her hand and bring it up to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss.
That same night, she’d accepted his invitation up to his suite and let him do some very ungentlemanly things. Ben smirked at the memory as he made his way down Vought Tower’s infinite hallways. She sure knew her way around some kinky shit.
And she still did, the little minx. She’d just been putting the freeze on his balls lately, for whatever her reasons were this time. He didn’t pretend to care or keep track at this point.
If people only knew what a royal pain Crimson Countess was.
Ben was only taken out of his thoughts when he heard someone singing in the breakroom, gently, but beautifully. He couldn’t make out the words though. He stopped and leaned inside the doorway, just to see who it was. It was early enough in the morning that he was surprised anyone but him was awake.
You were standing there at the counter, making some coffee from the percolator. Soft and dulcet notes fell from your lips in some kind of lullaby. Quirking a brow, the oddness of it managed to draw Ben’s steps into the kitchen. You were wearing a leather supe suit that molded to your every curve, not unlike Donna’s, except yours was black with violet trim lines.
You eventually noticed him with a smile.
“Good morning, sir.”
Ben gave you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from breast to toe before he noted that the coffee had finished percolating.
"Hey there, sweetheart,” he said. “Pour me a cup, would ya?"
You did so, and he admired the graceful movements of your hands, and the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself.
"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asked, taking the plain white coffee mug from you.
When your hand brushed his, he felt it.
Your power.
It threatened to overtake him, drawing you into him like the crash and current of a tidal wave, where he couldn’t help but be pulled undertow. There in that darkness, he craved your warmth as well as your body. The thought, the need gripped him at his core…
He wanted you to devour him, body and soul.
And he finally registered that your eyes were glowing violet, along with your knowing smile.
Then you blinked. The violet haze was gone, along with your hold on his mind.
You went back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened. Ben faltered, mentally and physically as he was forced to grip the counter. He even had to catch his breath as his mind reeled from the loss of connection.
He covered his unbalance with a steely, angry frown. What the fuck just fucking happened?
He looked at you harder than before, drawing himself to his full height and towering over you. Still, you didn’t seem all that intimidated.
“What the hell did you just do?” he growled.
Your knowing, easy smile remained.
“Nothing,” you replied. “Just a little smoke.”
Ben’s eyes widened.
“Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”
How the hell had you heard about that?
He quirked a brow, but you just sipped your coffee with a gentle slurp. Your gaze moved away from him as you went to the fridge to take out a carton of eggs.
“Want some breakfast? I’m thinking of making some eggs, sunny side up,” you said.
Ben’s hand clenched at his side, but then, he forced himself to relax. Or at least, to look relaxed. You had some fucking audacity to try toying with him…but he had to admit, you were something new.
Interesting.
“What’s your name?” he asked, in a tone that demanded.
“Sirena,” you answered. Your superhero name, which he’d already known when Stan Edgar told him about you a week ago.
Ben’s frown deepened, but he reminded himself to retain some charm. He took your chin between his fingers. His grip was light, but his green eyes were intense, and focused on you.
“No. Your real name, sweetheart,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb.
You blinked, but you obliged him with your name, and a smile that edged at flirtation.
“What’s yours?” you returned.
He had to smirk. He knew you knew full well who he was.
“Call me Ben,” he said.
Three Days Ago…
You tried not to be completely overwhelmed by the sight of this huge tower as you pulled your suitcase behind you. Vought-American was an institution of superhero production, and Payback was the face of it all. The absolute pinnacle.
I still can’t believe they chose me, you thought, but you tried not to let that show. You needed to make it seem like you knew what you were doing. You belonged here, and you were seizing this chance.
Madelyn Stillwell, the head of Superhero Public Relations, personally greeted you at the gate and showed you up to your room. However, you’d barely gotten a chance to step inside and look around before her pager went off. She wore a certain smile when she saw the number on the screen. She tossed a strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced up at you.
“Sorry, sweetie. I have an appointment to get to, but the directory is there on your desk if you need anything. Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing at you with her pager in hand. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to give you a tour of the building.”
“Okay, thank you so—”
The door closed behind her before you could even finish your sentence. That deflated you a little, but you tried not to let that small exchange bring you down. Your apartment was huge. Or at least, it was much bigger than the shoebox you left in the Village, let alone the Brooklyn brownstone you grew up in, sharing with two other families on each floor.
You hefted your suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack your clothes, makeup, and toiletries.
You also took out the only framed picture you had—one that housed your parents and your older brother Chris. You were both grown already, but in this picture, you were barely twelve years old. That little girl didn’t know that her entire world was about to change, when her powers manifested for the first time.
That thought did succeed in dimming your mood for a moment, but you sighed and set the frame down on your new dresser. You’d have to remember to call Chris. His son was turning four years old in a few weeks.
Though your attention shifted to a black shape in the corner of your eye. It was a garment bag hanging on the closet door. You went over and unzipped it, revealing your new super suit. It was all black leather and violet accent lines down the sides, along the collar, and down between the breasts in a V-shape. It was strategic to accentuate curves and bust.
You whistled lowly. It was beautiful, but Jesus did it look tight.
“Wow,” you remarked, trying out the zipper up and down. “They really like their leather, huh?”
Still, you itched to try it on. After a few minutes of struggling and wiggling, you managed to get into the suit. They’d taken exact measurements, so it did look good. You felt like a new person…a superhero.
You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. But then, you forced the smile off your face and shook your head, schooling your expression into something less doe-eyed and pathetic. More in control.
There you are, Sirena, you thought. You had long ago trained yourself with that enigmatic look. You knew how it felt on your face. The easiest way for you to get what you wanted in this world, the way you’d gotten this far, was with this exact face.
Only show them what you want them to see.
Almost two hours later, you’d finished unpacking your belongings and explored every corner of your new beautiful apartment, but still, Miss Stillwell wasn’t back yet.
You checked your watch and hummed to yourself. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to leave your apartment and explore the tower by yourself. You took off the suit as well, so you could make your way around more anonymously. You were sure no one really knew who you were yet.
Your theory was proven true when you walked through the halls, passing Vought employees without even a blink in your direction. That was okay though. Soon enough, all these people would know your face, as well as your name.
You reached one of the top floors, where you thought you remembered The Legend’s office was supposed to be (according to the directory). Maybe you could meet him and get a jump start on your schedule.
You stopped short, however, when an office door slid open. Out came a slightly disheveled Miss Stillwell. Her blouse was hastily tucked into her gray pencil skirt, and strands of her blonde hair were a bit frizzy as they brushed her shoulders, as if she’d combed them down with her fingers. You plastered yourself to a wall around the corner, only peeking around after she passed by.
Your brows popped up incredulously when you read the name plate beside the door she just came out of.
Stan Edgar…holy shit. His signature was on my contract!
Along with Arthur Cohen, or The Legend, as Stillwell had told you when she welcomed you in. He was the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, so who the hell was Stan?
Well, whoever he was, he was giving it to the head of PR.
Okay then. You shook your head and continued on your way. At the end of the hall, you finally found the right office. You were about to open the door, when you heard male voices coming from inside—one older and dry, and the other deep and strong.
You reached out with your awareness and allowed your powers to engage, likely making your eyes glow with a violet hue.
Sure enough, you sensed two men in the room. And as the voices raised, you recognized one of them. It was unmistakable; you’d been taking the time to binge all of his movies for the past month, ever since you auditioned to get into Payback.
Soldier Boy.
A smile spread across your face. For a moment, you were incredibly excited…until you actually heard what he was saying.
“The last thing we need is another broad on the team.”
Your mouth fell open in shock as your brows drew together. You carefully pressed yourself to the door and kept listening.
“And her powers. Really?” he said. “Sounds like she blew something up someone’s ass to get this far, and it ain’t smoke.”
“Trust me, that’s the real deal too,” Arthur assured.
You glared at the door furiously, as if you could burn lasers out of your eyes. You crossed your arms, but you breathed evenly as you strived to keep your emotions contained.
Control, you reminded yourself. With another deep breath, you managed to let go of your ire, but the more you listened to the conversation, the more impossible that became. You turned away from the door and made clipped strides down the hall.
You knew you had to tread carefully here. You’d heard some of the real stories about Payback, because you’d taken the time to listen. You weren’t about to enter Vought Tower without having some idea of what you were getting into, and you knew you’d have to prove yourself as the rookie on the team. You just hadn’t expected their leader to be such a chauvinistic asshole.
Though inwardly, you snorted. Well, the guy is from the ‘40s. Best generation, indeed.
You rolled your shoulders and shook it away, like water off your proverbial feathers. Your mouth set in a firm line as you held your head high.
The game begins, you thought.
For the next few days, you watched. You studied each member of your new “team” as you encountered them, and you quickly realized that this team wasn’t much of one.
They looked out for themselves, and bickered amongst themselves, in the case of the TNT Twins. Crimson Countess had given you a lovely, polite face that still somehow mocked you when she walked away, along with the bounce of her red hair.
Your powers didn’t allow you to sense or read women, but you recognized a diva when you saw one.
Clearly, she was used to being the woman on top, especially as Soldier Boy’s girlfriend. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought. From what you’d heard (and the masculine cologne you smelled on Arthur’s assistant Joanna yesterday), Soldier Boy got around. His relationship with Countess was either very open, or it was well-crafted PR.
You had another growing, unsettling thought. The more information you gathered just by observing the team, the more you had a hard time believing that you were ever going to fit in around here.
It was only your third day in the Tower though, you reminded yourself, as you got dressed for the day in your suit. That kind of negativity wouldn’t serve you here.
So you left your apartment in search of coffee and breakfast at the breakroom and lounge area, exclusive to the team. You supposed these guys were either late sleepers, or they got their food brought to them. You were relieved to find the room empty, and you let out a deep breath.
Remember why you’re here, you thought. It’s not about you.
It had never been about you.
You rummaged through the cupboards in search of the one thing that would perk you up—good coffee. You found it near the top shelf and began to prep the coffee maker. You hummed to yourself while your hands moved on autopilot. The tune strengthened, deepening and then sweetening on higher trills.
Suddenly, your spine prickled. Your mind buzzed faintly with awareness as you sensed a presence.
It was familiar and overwhelmingly male, with heavy, confident steps coming down the hall. You tilted your head and frowned.
Soldier Boy, that asshole.
But then, your lips curved upwards. This could be fun.
When Soldier Boy walked into the breakroom, he noticed you. You pretended not to realize he was there, but you felt the heat of his gaze roaming over your body. You wanted to sigh. Predictable.
Right then, you made a quiet, firm decision. Today, this man was going to learn your name. And he wasn’t going to forget it.
You turned to him with a smile when he approached—the most pleasant one you could manage.
“Good morning, sir.”
AN: Game, set, match. 😘💚 As many of you know, this story is expanding on this Soldier Boy imagine, which I wrote almost a year ago now. In the back of my mind though, I always thought this idea could be more someday.
So please let me know what you thought of Part 1! I'm so excited for you guys to see what's coming up next...
Next Time:
“Countess, I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”
You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.
“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”
The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger.
▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2
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hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)
damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.
i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.
the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.
all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.
“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.
“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.
you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.
you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.
all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.
the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.
chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.
every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.
"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.
"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.
"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.
“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.
"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.
"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.
"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.
"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.
you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.
"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.
"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.
looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.
"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.
"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.
you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.
"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.
"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.
you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.
feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.
when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.
"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.
chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.
turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.
"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.
"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.
"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.
the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.
"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.
"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.
"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.
"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.
you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.
"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.
you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.
"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.
"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.
you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.
"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.
chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.
"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.
there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.
you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.
the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.
he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.
before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.
chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.
the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.
you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.
in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.
he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.
you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.
you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.
appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.
they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.
nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.
your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.
chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.
you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.
"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.
walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.
the room is filled with tension.
matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.
"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.
"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.
"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.
"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.
matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.
"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.
you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.
you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.
“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.
he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.
“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.
“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.
"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.
"chris," you start. he keeps talking.
“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.
“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.
“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.
"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.
"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.
"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.
"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.
"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.
"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.
"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.
you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.
"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.
you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.
"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."
"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.
"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"
"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.
"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"
"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.
"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.
your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.
in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.
chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.
the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.
you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.
"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.
he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.
"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.
tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.
turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.
you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.
"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.
"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.
with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.
"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.
his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.
"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.
chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.
"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.
he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.
"i mean it, y/n."
"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.
"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.
he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.
"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.
"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.
"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."
"i know, chris."
"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."
"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.
"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.
"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.
"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.
you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.
"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."
"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.
"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.
chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.
"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.
you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.
"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.
his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.
"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.
chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.
"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."
this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo blurb#sturniolo triplets#damsel in distress
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best friends big sister
i.midoriya
♰ nsfw/suggestive, sub!izuku
bakugo tried to keep you a secret from his friends-he really did. facing the inevitable reaction they would have to you was not something he wanted to face right now.
he manages to do so until half way through his first year in college when he begrudgingly brings kirishima home thinking you weren't there-
it goes the same way everytime- he introduces you to someone and they immediately fall for you. sometimes he feels you do it on purpose, leaning into kirishima as he introduces himself, holding his hand for a second to long when he greets you.
he watches as you bat your eyelashes up at his red haired friend. speaking to him with a tone in your voice that sickeningly seductive. his signature frown on his face.
you do it too piss him off, you know he hates it when his friends fawn over you- it's been happening since you were little after all.
he hates how kirishima doesn't shut up about you after that- your only a year older right?? means he would totally have a chance if it wasn't for the oh so sacred "bro code."
it doesn't stop his gushing though- soon his entire friend group is aware of who you are. they're stalking your instagram during lunch. they beg him to hang out at his place in hopes of the chance they'll get to see you- to have a conversation with you.
he complains about it constantly- "shitty hairs askin' about you again." you can't help but giggle at the scowl on your brothers face- he really does get so wound up over nothing.
it's not like you don't face the same- your own friends all agree that your younger brother is insanely attractive. you don't let it get to you though- you know your both crazy beautiful- your siblings after all.
you tease him about it regularly- "when are those friends of yours coming over next kats?" and he just grumbles- something about him being forced to partner up with some stupid nerd for a project due on monday so he can't hang out with his chosen friends this weekend. your excited at the idea of a new face- a new name to tease bakugo about.
imagine your shock when none other than izuku midoriya knocks on your house door at 10am sharp that saturday morning.
he's grown. that much your sure about- he towers over you now- forcing you to bend your neck backwards to look up at him.
his face immediately flushes when he sees you-clearly not expecting you to be the one to open the door.
he feels silly- his curses at himself in his head for his stupid crush he's had on you since childhood. he's an adult now. a proper adult with proper adult problems- yet he can't seem to hold himself together when your in his vicinity.
he knew he should've just invited kachan over to his place for the project work-
his thoughts are stopped dead in his tracks when you jump on him- pulling the boy into a tight hug as you gush about how much bigger he's gotten- how much he's grown.
he's definitely not that same little boy you knew when you were younger- at least not physically. he's built- insanely so actually. you can't help but wonder how long he spends in the gym each week-maybe you should start going when he's there-
he squeaks out a quiet hi as he fumbles against your touch- he's incredibly aware of how close you two are- your tits pressed tightly against his chest. you don't seem to notice but he does.
you let him go- much to his thanks, allowing him to regain his breathe as he shakily as he asks you how you've been.
you begin to talk his ear off and he's reminded exactly why he liked you so much when you were small. your nothing like your brother, yeah your a little teasing- maybe a little mean at times but it's clear it's all in good faith. your funny, charismatic, easy to talk too and incredibly attractive.
he's in awe of you as you speak- explaining the piles of work your dealing with due to your major, complaining about your workload.
you take a second to look at him- a small hint of nostalgia bubbling in your stomach. you really liked izuku when you were younger- not just because it pissed kats off more than anything when thee two of you would interact but because he's sweet.
he's always been a sweetheart- so nice- so helpful. your reminded of how he used to trail after you and your brother as kids- constantly wanting to be around you- standing incredibly close to you as he shook with nerves.
the two boys had a falling out when they hit middle school- you were never really told why, just that your brother and izuku were not friends anymore- if they ever really were, and you being loyal to ur little brother stopped talking to the green haired boy in solidarity- much to your dismay.
you don't really know how they made up either- all you know is that the nervous boy you haven't seen since he was a young teenage is now in your family kitchen again- and he's certainly done a lot of growing up.
you don't get long to catch up before your brother is storming into the kitchen and physically pulling the other boy up to his room- ignoring your complaints about not having enough time to talk to him- bakugo knows exactly what your doing.
izukus painfully obvious crush he had on you when you were younger was no secret to you- despite not feeling the same way for the boy at the time you can admit that you maybe played into it abit when you were teens-
you would playfully push his shoulder, lean over the back of him to look over his phone- use virtually any excuse to touch him- enjoying watching the effect you had on him.
you think that's were it started- your love for attention- your reputation of flirting and leading people on. you truly believe it all started with your brothers childhood friends silly crush on you.
you retreat back to your room to get some studying done- you work for hours, finally being satisfied with the work you've done for today you decide to reward yourself with the desert you've left in the fridge.
your leaving the kitchen when izuku walks in- he's clearly ready to leave, bag his back as he makes his way to the door- stopping in his tracks when he notices you.
you've changed outfit since he saw you this morning into something more comfortable- maybe your shorts are a little too short for having visitors round but you don't pay it much mind.
his eyes however go straight to your now exposed thighs- face heating up as he trails your body. he needs to get out of there and fast. he can already feel the arousal growing in his chest. he shuffles out a weak goodbye as he begins walking again.
you stop him before he gets to the door- calling out after him. you ask for his number, you know to keep in touch? his eyes are blown wide but he scrambles to take his phone out anyway- pushing it into your hand as he looks away. you type your number in-feeling pleased with yourself and the reaction you've bring out of the boy infront of you.
you sign your contact with a little <3 and send yourself a message too double check that the numbers correct before you let him leave. closing the door behind him as he spits out a thank you and a see you later.
it's weeks before you see him again- you engage in small conversations over texts- complains about your jobs and your coursework, nothing too serious before your made aware by your mother that he and inko will be joining your family for dinner this friday night coming.
your ecstatic as you message him- telling him your so excited to see him and promising to keep him a seat next to you at the dinner table.
friday rolls around quickly and you spend the day helping your father prepare the apparent feast your serving your guests tonight.
you spend a quick hour getting ready- showering, doing your hair, freshening up your make up. your making tonight fun you decide as you do your finishing touches.
it's mitsuki who greets the boy and his mother at the door- wrapping them in a tight hug. your mothers been looking forward to this all week- excited to finally have the pair back in their home again after many years.
it's comfortable immediately- your thankful there's no awkwardness surrounding the long overdue get together.
you settle into chatter easily after the initial greetings- setting in your living room as your father finishes up on dinner- your laughing about old time-your squashed comfortably between the two younger boys, leaning more into izuku and facing him to talk to him from time to time- watching a blush rise to his face when his eyes uncontrollably look down to catch a glimpse of your cleavage.
it's not long before masaru is calling you all through for dinner, you take a seat on the left side of your dining table- ushering izuku to take the boy other seat on that side next to you, your parents take their seats ate their respected heads of the table as inko and bakugo take the seats facing you and midoriya.
you settle into easy chatter- inko flows words or gratitude towards you and your dad for the food and you smile warmly at her- you really have missed the woman.
you divert your attention away from the mother and to the son sitting next to you- he's tense. your shoulders are so close that they would be touching if you moved even slightly words him, you lightly kick his foot under the table and his eyes dart to yours quickly, you attempt to stay composed as he looks at you in shock- you can't help the small giggle that rises in your throat-
you take a look around quickly before continuing your next move- no one's paying attention, mitsuki is nearly leaning over the table to talk to inko- bakugo in between them is distracted by their conversation as your dad looks over at the scene adoringly.
you take this as an opportunity to do something incredibly risky- not just because your at dinner with your parents- because the boy next to you could totally react your advances. you don't think he will-but you keep in mind that he never fails to surprise you.
you move your leg back to his now, wrapping yours around his as you begin a little game of footies with him- he's rigid now- unmoving as he looks at you with wide eyes-
he doesn't move your leg and he definitely doesn't tell you to stop- you lean in to speak to him- almost a whisper- "are you enjoying your meal zuku'?"
his face flushed an even darker red- he's clearly not used to you being so close- the position your bodies in squeezes your cleavage even more- it feels impossible for him to rip his eyes away-
"y-yeah" he stutters out it-it's adorable how difficult it is for him to say a single word- you play dumb, pretending your not painfully aware of your affect on the boy- "what's wrong zuku-? your all red."
your taunting him- teasing him- you love to watch how his breathe hitches and his eyes snap away from your tits and to his lap- looking down in shame.
"m' fine-" he says it with a small smile- he's trying to convince you, he knows your not that stupid. you move your hand to the side of his face, gracing his cheek slightly as you lightly push his face to meet your- your noses being only a couple inches apart-
"you sure? you look like your overheating?" you say it innocently- voice mixed with false worry- you know exactly why his face is so red.
you move your hand away from his face- the other still firmly on the table and your arm closest to the boy finds its itself resting on his lap.
his breathe hitches at the contact- his eyes snapping to yours- the look of desperation on his face causes you to move your own thighs tightly together.
he doesn't answer- so instead you move your hand even closer to him- having it now resting on his inner thigh as you watch him attempt to keep composed.
"y-yes. m' f-fine. i promise." his breathe heavy as he says it, he's struggling against the the movement of your hand lacing up and down his thigh.
"tell me if you want me to stop" it's a complete whisper now- you glance around the room again to double check that no one's paying attention to the two of you- your glad they aren't- your hand isn't seen under the table and you've positioned yourself in a way that too your family it looks as if your only whispering in his ear, you'd play it off as if you were telling him one of bakugos big secrets instead of the light touches your giving his thigh.
you move your eyes to his suspiciously when he doesn't answer and the movement of your hand stops- threatening to be removed before he rushes out an answer-
"don't stop." it's quick and quiet- his voice kept low to not alert the people around you, the desperation in his voice isn't missed by you as you begin to move your hand again- closer and closer to his bulge with each slip.
your hand lightly graces the outline of his dick as you watch hold back a moan- you decide you love seeing him like this- already looking so fucked out.
it only takes a second touch of his clothed cock before he snaps his head away from yours to meet the table- biting down on his hand to muffle the whine threatening to escape his throat-
the loud noise snaps everyone's head towards izuku-you remove your hand quickly before anyone can notice and place a look of fake worry on your face as you place a hand on his shoulder before leaning down to him-
"are you okay izuku-? do you want me to take you upstairs- maybe you can lay down for abit?" it's a show- voice laced with fake concern as you deliver your performance- tricking both your mothers into a state of admiration for how sweet your being to the boy- they give each other a wide eyed look before ushering you both upstairs together- hm...
"oh yes sweetie take the poor boy upstairs- it seems your father has forgotten how badly the boy deals with spice-* your mother laughs slightly before excusing you from the table- you take the opportunity to pull the boy next to you away from the table, hand still rested on his shoulder as you guide him upstairs- his eyes unmoving as he looks down on the floor in shame.
you move him towards your bedroom door- he stops before he steps inside- "w-what are you doing?" he's whispering- as if someone could hear him from all the way downstairs.
you reply casually- "i'm taking you into my room- you need to lay down" he's not convinced when you finish your sentence so you continue- "i'll take good care of you kay'? i don't mind."
this forces him to look at you- he's trying to figure something out- he sighs before he lets you move him into your room- he's gave in- and it really didn't take much at all.
you pull him towards your bed, signalling for him to sit against the headboard as you sit at the side of the bed- your back touching thighs as you face him side on.
"you wanna tell me what happened back there?" your straight to the point- you thought it was going well? did he not want you to touch him?
"n-nothing-" you eye him suspiciously, an eyebrow raised as you reply to him. "m' not an idiot zuku- i can tell something's up."
he can't even look at you when he finally replies after a long stretch of silence "it felt t-too good." your puzzled at this- asking him what on earth he means when he says it felt too good??
his face is dripped in shame as he fiddles with his hands- you take a look at him properly- it's then when you notice a very slight wet patch at his crotch-
wait.
"izuku- baby." you take a breathe before continuing. watching as his face lights up at the nickname. "you wanna tell me what really happened when you hit your head against the table?"
you know. he knows you know and he feels disgusting- what will you think of him when you force him to admit he came in his pants from you touching his dick twice.
"i- um okay f-fuck." he can't find his words. "i-i came."
he watches your face for a reaction but you don't give him one, you don't move an itch and he feels like he ruined it- your everything he's ever wanted- for as long as he can remember- and when he finally has the chance with you he's been dreaming about for years- even if only for tonight he goes and fucks it up by being a fucking prejac.
your silent as you move your hands- slightly shocking the boy in from of you. you place your hand on the line of your trouser before looking up at him- "can i take these off?" your eyes meet his and he takes notice of the hazed look in your eyes before nodding.
you pull them down- taking his boxers with them as you admire him- his cock bounces up immediately as it's freed from its restraints- you admire it for a second- he's big- not completely huge but big. thick too-
you stare for abit- seeing the cum from before still sticky on his dick and his boxers- he's getting increasingly more nervous but he can't help the twitch in his dick as you watch him.
"can i touch you?"
his face flushes even more- "p-please" it's nearly silent, only loud enough for you to hear it.
you don't waste a second before your hands on his dick, not giving him any warning as your hand goes up and down his cock- he moans immediately-already overstimulated by your touch-
"w-wait wait!" he's struggling to speak between his moans. "if you k-keep ah fuck- if you keep going so f-fast i'll come again-"
his confession only speeds the movements of your hands- it's as if that's what you want. he doesn't have a second to think before you dip your head down to his dick and take his red tip in your mouth.
you move your tounge around his dick as your hand continues to move along what you don't have in your mouth- he whines at the feeling of your tongue before bottoming out only a minute seconds after your mouth intintally took him in.
he comes ropes there's so much of it that it's spilling out of your mouth and down your chin- his orgasm lasts him a couple of seconds before he lays his head back- still whining when you remove your lips from his dick.
he watches as you swallow him- moving your hand to collect the spilt cum on your chin back into your mouth. he could be hard again at the sight-
"zuku." you look at him dangerously- his eyes unable to leave yours- "i wanna fuck you."
he stays still. not trusting his voice to speak as he fears he'll shout his answer- yes! he wants to say-yes please fuck me but he can't find the words.
"cmon izuku- let me fuck ur pretty dick baby-" he whines again- cock now once again fully hard at the way you speak to him- your coaching him- leading him. and he loves it.
"p-please tuck me-" that's all it takes tor you to rile your dress up- moving your panties to the side as you position yourself on top on him- he sounds pathetic-practically begging you to fuck him and who are you to refuse him-
you manoeuvre your body so your straddling him comfortably- you line your entrance at the tip of dick- hovering for a second as you admire him below you- your stopped before you can move down by a right grab on your wrist-
"w-wait!" he huffs out- "i-i've never done this before!"
you want to say your surprised but your not-you could tell he was a virgin when you saw his reaction to you in those shorts a couple weeks ago-you could tell by how red he went in the face when u started playing footsies earlier- he's been screaming virgin the entire time, you can't help that it only makes you want him more.
"i know-" you cut yourself off with a moan as you lower yourself onto him- he's so thick- he stretches you out perfectly as the slight pain quickly turns to pleasure.
he's gawking beneath you- mouth wide as a chain of noises- moans mixed with whimpers leaves his mouth- he's loud. you shut him up with a kiss-worried about something hearing him if they walk by your room-
you move yourself up and down him, his head following yours to move with you to not break the kiss- he's groaning into your mouth- unable to stop the noises of pleasure slipping out of him.
your fully riding him now- setting a fast pace as you bounce yourself up and down- rolling on him as he hits that sweet spot in your pussy-
he's leaking so much precum that it forms a ring at the bottom of his dick- you thank your birth control for allowing you to safely take him raw.
he's blabbering nonsense into your mouth- "f-fuck mghh you f-feel so good i c-can't" you kiss him again- pushing your tongue roughly into his mouth-
he never imagined his first time being like this- he imagined shitty missionary with some random girl at some college party- he believes he must be the luckiest guy in the world to have you on top of him-grinding down on him.
"f-fuck baby your cocks so good-fillin' me up so good-" he whines at your praise as he feels yet another knot in his stomach- he's going to cum again- he's going to cum into your pussy-
"s-stop m' gna cum!" he makes no effort to move you off- secretly hoping you'll get caught in the moment and allow him to stay inside-
"it's okay- m' protected just cum-" you can still sense his hesitation- you ride him even faster- desperately attempting to force a third orgasm out of the boy-
"cmon baby it's okay- cum in me zuku- cum in my pussy-*
that's all it takes- he lets out a loud whine and you catch his lips in yours to try and silence him-
you ride though his high- not slowing down as you case your own realise- he's crying under you, shaking at the overstimulation
"¡ cant! it h-hurts!" tears are spilling as you ignore his pleas- "hold on for me baby oh f-fuck m' so close" he's sobbing under you now, hands grabbing your waist so hard it hurts- gripping you for dear life.
"you can take it zuku- know you can-" the poor boy is twitching his hips upwards, kisses getting sloppier and the volume of his whimpering increasing. you think he looks prettiest like this.
you feel your orgasm approaching as your pace gets sloppier- izuku is a mess under you, a mix of cum and your slick feeling heavy at the base of his cock- he can't even speak, his mouth as agape as he watches you in a trance.
you cum with a moan- "oh-oh m' cumming-" you crash down onto him, riding out your high as you feel his thighs tense up- feeling even more cum leak from his tip filling you up even more- you dip your head into his neck as you recover.
you stay there for a second- taking in what just happened- izuku is panting under you, little sobs escaping his lips everytime you move even a little, you slowly remove yourself from him and plant a small peck to his cheek-
"did so good for me zuku- gna clean u up okay? gotta head back downstairs soon."
all he can do is stare at you in awe- he's completely fucked out, he has this dazed look in his eyes that you love.
you clean yourselfs up and let izuku take his time calming down- "can't believe i was your first-" your teasing him again- the never ending blush on his face gets deeper-
"m' sorry i didn't do much-" he's immediately self conscious- he came three- no four times and he feels bad for hardly being able to hold on long enough for you to come too.
"shhh sh it's okay baby" you smile at him as the nickname rolls of your tounge. "next time kay'?" his eyes widen. next time?? what could he possibly have done to make you want to see him again?
"you were perfect for me zuku- so good." you take his hand in yours as he looks away from you- clearly embarrassed by your praise. you don't drop his hand as you lead him back into the living room where your family's now sit- mitsuki has a bottle of wine open, thankful that it means your parents wont notice your hand linked with the green haired boys.
katsuki notices though- he noticed it the second you walk though the door- he also can't help but notice the flushed look on his childhoods friends face and you drag him to sit down next to you. hand not wandering from him.
he shoots you a suspicious look as he watches midoriya sit extremely close to you- you catch his eyes and shug your shoulders at him- you'll explain another time- maybe.
part2
#bnha#mha#mha x reader#fanfiction#bnha x reader#mha izuku#izuku midoriya#izuku x reader#bnha izuku#izuku x y/n#izuku midoriya x reader#bakugo katuski#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha x female reader#mha x you#mha x y/n#mha fanfiction#katsuki bakugo mha#mha x reader smut#fanfic
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Darlin' pt 3
pt 1 / pt 2 /pt 4
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Slowburn romance, we will get there eventually)
Description: Reader and the ghoul navigate their new, unconventional friendship on their way to Filly.
TW: Mentions of emotional abuse and bad parenting, slight angst slight fluff, reader has no social skills.
After the ghoul defended me in town, I felt much more comfortable in his presence. I had a new vigor for the adventure in front of us. It was much more exciting than anything I would do on my own. After a couple of hours on the trail, I decided to try and talk to him. However, his demeanor hadn't changed much.
"My name is Y/n, by the way," I said nonchalantly while hiking next to him.
"Don't remember askin'." He responded, refusing to look at me.
"Just thought you should know." I pouted at his cold response. "Since we are travelin' together and all that."
"Well, now I know." He said, finally looking over at me.
We made eye contact for a moment before he swiftly turned his gaze back to the trail ahead of us.
"So...." I started. "You ain't gonna tell me your name."
"No." He sighed, obviously getting annoyed as he let out a small cough.
I bit my cheek as I buried my disappointment. "How far to Filly?" I asked quietly.
"About a day" He responded between coughs as he stopped and pulled out some Jet from his pack and added it to his inhaler. I watched, intrigued as he breathed it in deeply. His eyes slowly raked over my body like he was looking for a reaction, but I just gave him an awkward smile.
The two of us continued in silence. I wondered about what a ghoul's life was like. I never met a ghoul before him. How long does it take them to change? The Jet must help keep the side effects at bay. I wondered how long it helps for. What was his life like before he turned into a ghoul? I wished I could ask him, but if his reaction earlier was any indication, he wasn't interested in conversation. I was so lost in thought that I stopped paying attention to the world around me.
The next thing I knew I was squealing as I tripped over a rock and started to fall forward.
"God damn it." I heard him say as he swiftly caught me before I could faceplant into the dirt. He roughly pulled me up and helped me to my feet.
My face burned with embarrassment. "Thank you," I mumbled out.
He just scoffed in response before he started walking again. I followed close behind, pouting in silence.
The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful, but as the day went on I started to get more and more agitated by his silence. Finally, we made camp.
As I gathered up the firewood and brought it back to camp I decided I had had enough. "I want to know your name," I said confidently, dropping the pile at his feet.
"I want things too, you don't see me bitchin' about it." He mumbled back.
"You are going to be nicer to me, or I am going to leave," I demanded.
This caught his attention as his gaze quickly met mine. I could tell he was trying to gauge if I was serious or not. In all honestly, I wasn't, but I didn't want him to know that so I just stood there, unwavering.
"You can try." He said menacingly, "But I ain't gonna let you."
"So, what? I am just your prisoner now? You gonna keep me around till you get hungry?" I said, anger bubbling over in my chest.
At this, he paused, a look of hurt flashed across his face. However, I was too caught up in my own emotions to notice it.
"Did I go from one man's prisoner to another's?" I asked.
Tears of frustration at his silence started to form in the corner of my eyes before I turned around, grabbed my bag, and stomped off. I didn't go far. I knew as soon as the sun came up I was going to go right back to following him around, so after about 10 minutes I sat up against a tree and let out a sigh. I knew I was acting childish, but in town, I genuinely thought I had made a friend in him. My father never let me have friends. I was forced to stay in the house and look after him and my brothers. I wasn't allowed to have a life of my own. I was naive to think that the ghoul would want to be my friend. As I started to drift off, I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I didn't bother looking because I knew it was him, coming to drag me back as promised.
"Cooper." He said, leaning against the other side of the tree.
"What?" I asked confused.
"My name, darlin'." He responded quietly.
We stayed there in silence for a couple of minutes before I spoke up.
"I was never going to leave," I admitted.
"I know." He said, letting out a small chuckle. "Now get your pretty ass back to camp."
I hummed quietly before grabbing my pack and getting up from the ground. I made my way to the other side of the tree so I could take a look at him. I could barely see him in the dark, but what I could see was eyes staring down at me. "Okay," I whispered.
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The next day I woke up confused. There was no boot in my side, and Cooper was nowhere to be seen. "Cooper?" I said quietly. When I got no response. "COOPER?" I yelled into the forest.
"Stop your hollering." I heard him say in the distance.
"Where did you go?" I asked breathlessly.
"Got myself some breakfast." He said nonchalantly as he held up a deformed rabbit while walking towards me.
"Why didn't you wake me? You always wake me." I asked, fear still evident across my face.
He was quiet for a moment before he responded quietly, "I was bein' nice."
I stared at him in shock while he was trying to look anywhere but at my face. "Oh."
We sat around the fire in silence as he ate the rabbit, I tried not to watch because honestly? That rabbit looked disgusting. While I waited I picked up one of the sticks and drew some stick figures in the dirt. I tried my best to give one a cowboy hat, but I don't think Cooper noticed. Once he was finished we picked up our bags, stomped out the fire, and went on our way again.
After a couple more hours of silence, I decided to try to talk to him again.
"I think you have pretty eyes." I blurted out.
At this, he stopped in his tracks and stared at me like I grew another head. I started to get self-conscious as his gaze bore into me. He was a cocky man, by all means. However, it had been a LONG time since anything about him was considered pretty.
I grimaced at his reaction "Sorry, I am not very good at conversation." I said sheepishly.
After a couple of minutes of silence, I decided to start walking in the general direction we were going earlier. I honestly had no idea where I was going, but I couldn't bear to stand there under his gaze any longer. After a minute, I could hear him trailing behind me and I felt the tension release from my body.
"No more compliments" I noted to myself.
We continued on in silence for some time before we could finally see Filly in the distance. My feet were raw and blistered from all the walking, so to finally see our destination was a welcome sight.
I looked back at the ghoul and smiled, "We made it!"
Much to my surprise, he had a matching smile on his face. I turned back around to Filly, excited to explore. I could feel his eyes on me as I skipped into town, stopping to look at all the stalls on my way past.
"So now what?" I asked, turning to face him.
"Now we wait, Darlin'." He chuckled in response.
The idea of being there when he caught his bounty filled me with excitement. This was nothing like what I assumed my life would become when I ran away.
tag list: @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @topiramateagreeable
#the ghoul fallout#fallout tv series#fallout#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader
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Wayne pov, implied neglect, abandonment
Wayne gets a call from Hawkins Elementary that Eddie hasn’t been to school in two days.
They couldn’t get ahold of Al on the phone, as usual. Wayne hopes his suspicions are wrong, but he already knows what he’s going to find when he shows up to the shabby old house on Philadelphia street with a McDonald’s bag in hand.
His knock on the door goes unanswered, but he sees small fingers and big round eyes peeking through the side window blinds.
“Hey, Eddie, it’s your Uncle Wayne. Open the door, it’s alright.”
Eddie shuffles away from the window, but there’s still no answer.
“You hungry? I brought those nugget things you like, that’s all. Some kinda toy in here too.”
After a moment, the door slowly opens a sliver. One big button eye peeks through the crack and a pale skinny arm reaches out.
Wayne hands over the food. “Gonna let me come inside?”
Eddie’s arm snakes back in with the bag like a claw machine. But after another moment, the door swings open fully, revealing Eddie in rumpled clothes at least a couple days worn. The shadows under his eyes tell Wayne all he needs to know.
“Dad’s gone to the store,” Eddie smiles nervously, he didn’t inherit Al’s ability to lie behind it. “He said he’ll be right back.”
Wayne just nods as he comes inside. One look around confirms what he already knew. By the window, there’s a blanket and a scatter of candy wrappers and empty soda cans where Eddie’s been sleeping. Waiting and watching the driveway for Al.
This wouldn’t be the first time Al’s gone off and left Eddie to fend for himself. Wayne’s been helping out as much as he can since Eddie’s poor mama passed. He doesn’t know much about raising kids but he knows Al’s one dumb selfish bastard to be leaving Eddie alone for days since the ripe age of 8.
Wayne ignores the twist in his chest and the stab of anger he feels and doesn’t mention it. He follows Eddie to the coffee table in front of the couch where Eddie digs into the McDonald’s sack.
“School called and said you weren’t there. You feelin’ bad?” He reaches out, gently pushing back Eddie’s wild curls to feel his forehead. He’s surprised Eddie lets him, too busy scarfing down chicken nuggets. “No fever.” Wayne notes, but Eddie’s hair needs a good wash.
Eddie’s narrow shoulders slump a bit. He doesn’t look at Wayne, tearing open his chocolate milk with his teeth.
“I just— didn’t wanna go today. I hate school. Miss Taylor always gives me a bad behavior grade even when I act the best in class. She calls me Junior. Munson Junior.”
“Thought you liked being called Junior. Like your dad.”
Eddie shrugs, those shadows darkening on him. “Everyone forgets I have my own name too. Sometimes I just wanna be Eddie.”
Already, he’s feeling the weight of his last name. Al taught him to hotwire the second he turned 10 and how to pick locks even before that. Munson tradition, Al wouldn’t listen when Wayne told him that’s bullshit. What seem like cool tricks to Eddie now already make him guilty in everyone’s eyes. Wayne’s been feeling it all his life, thanks to his old man and now Eddie’s got Al to thank for making it even worse.
“That’s good, you just keep reminding them,” Wayne says, being careful with his next words. “When you finish that, why don’t you go pack a bag, alright? You can come stay with me until your dad gets back.”
Eddie goes stiff, chewing slower now. “It— it hasn’t been long. He said he’d be right back.” His eyes drift over to Wayne, checking to see if he buys it. Wayne doesn’t. So Eddie huffs, “I wanna stay here. I hate the trailer park.”
That’s just him repeating Al’s shit talk, so Wayne doesn’t take offense. “Your friend’s been askin’ about you. That little girl next door.”
Eddie perks up at that, “Ronnie?” Wayne nods and thinks that does the trick for a second, but Eddie stubbornly sulks again. “I can’t go. Dad told me to stay here until he gets back.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be here alone. You don’t have to be.”
“I’m not scared to stay by myself,” Eddie insists, sitting up straighter, looking even younger trying to look older. “Dad said I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m 10 now and I can look after myself. He taught me to use the stove and everything. I always do fine on my own.”
“So he’s been leaving a lot, then? You know you can call me to come pick you up,” Wayne tries not to frame it like it’s Eddie’s fault, pointing to where his phone number is pinned on the fridge with a magnet.
Eddie’s lip wobbles despite how he tries to square his jaw.
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“You ain’t—”
“You said to call if I need you and I don’t need you, Wayne! I'm fine!”
Eddie shoves the food away, his eyes wide and shiny when he cuts them back to Wayne. Not glaring with anger, just hurt.
“It’s not fine,” Wayne tells him, gentle as the first time he held him, just a tiny thing all bundled up in Elizabeth’s knitting. “Your dad’s got his head in his ass again. You can’t stay here on your own, no matter what he said. I ain’t leaving you by yourself.”
“I’m not going.” Eddie’s more pleading now than arguing. “I have to stay here so Dad can find me when he gets back. Don’t you get that? If I’m not here, I won’t see him.”
That’s what it’s really about, Eddie thinking it’s his responsibility to keep up with his Dad. Instead of the other way around.
“If he comes looking for you, he’ll know where to find you.” But Al won’t. It’s never Eddie that he comes back for. Wayne doesn’t tell Eddie that, but now Eddie’s starting to learn that on his own. Al proved it to him time and time again.
“Why do you even care?” Eddie’s angry now. But it’s not really Wayne that he’s mad at. They both know that.
“It’s alright, son, c’mon now.” Wayne reaches for him but Eddie quickly pushes his hand away.
“You aren’t my dad.” Tears escape with the words, and seeing his pain hurts Wayne more than anything he could say, or do. He pushes Wayne again. “So why do you care? Why are you here?”
He doesn’t need an answer, he just needs to let it out.
So Wayne sits there while Eddie shoves his chest and cries harder, “You aren’t my dad. Why do you care?” Wayne curls his hands around Eddie’s smaller ones as the question turns to, “Why aren’t you?” Then it’s a broken little sob of, “Why aren’t you my dad?”
Wayne catches Eddie when he finally tires himself out, and instead of pushing Wayne away, Eddie’s clinging to him. Eddie’s holding on like Wayne’s all he’s got left in the world. Wayne hugs Eddie to his chest, wishing there was more he could do.
Al put a hole in Eddie and he’s digging it deeper everyday, one that Wayne won’t ever quite fit into. He tries to fill it the best he can, giving Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer, going to the talent show because Al never makes good on his promises to be there for Eddie, not letting Eddie stay in this damn house alone waiting for someone who’s never gonna show up. Maybe Wayne’s not that someone, but he can still be here for Eddie. And he’s gonna be.
“C’mon, let’s get you outta here.”
#munson family stuff on the mind sorry#eddie munson#wayne munson#stranger things#ficlet#ronnie ecker#al munson#rueswriting#mp
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