#with a little bit of fluff
Text
Beauty and The Beast
chapter two
Warnings: SMUT 18+
Graphic Sexual Content, Crying, Unresolved Trauma, M! Receiving Oral, Face-Fucking, Degradation, Boot Humping, Dom/Sub, Slapping, Praise! Kink, Begging, DD/LG, Mentions of Breeding, Stockholm Syndrome(develops), Mentions of Underage Sex, Mentions of Rape, Non-Con, Mentions of self-mutilation
A/N:
Jason is 19, the reader is 18. Jason’s thoughts are in bold italic and the readers are in bold.
Past is in italic
She got lured out by a masked villian named the Arkham Knight,
“If you want to find out what happened to Robin, meet me on top of R.H. Kane.
Wear the Batgirl uniform.”
The first time they ever kissed was on their first date, she couldn’t contain the happiness any longer and grabbed his face and kissed him. He looked so shocked but there was a small smile that crept up on his face. It was two weeks after they met, they were out just getting pizza and she was practically all over him. Her bad boy, all hers.
The first night he was wearing the Robin costume was the night she realized how much she loved him. Three months later Bruce made Jason his ward. Their rooms were right next to each other and they made a hole in between bedside tables, so they could go into each other's rooms without Bruce or Alfred finding out. They would swap what bed they would sleep together in, he would poke fun at her Care Bears and her dolphin pillow pet. They were absolute lovebirds, he loved the attention. She loved getting to love someone and for someone to care for her. Both of their parents were monsters. They had no one, and when they met Bruce they finally had a family. The good girl and her bad boy. Belle and the Beast. Canary and Jaybird. Violet and Crimson. The First Daughter and The Second Son. The Bat and the Knight. Batgirl and Robin.
They were unstoppable, two teenagers in love fighting crime. Just like Dick and Barbara. They never left each other's side, all they wanted was to be with each other. She started ditching school to be with him at his school. Bruce ultimately had to pull her out of school. Little did he know she was going to see his newly adopted son at his school and sit in the library giving him handjobs while helping him with his homework.
“Awww do you want me to stay right here Peanut?” God she looks so pretty crying and all needy, I want to take off my helmet and kiss her all over.
She looks up at him, crying from how big his dick is, and how she wishes he was her Robin. She was grinding on his boot so hard it made her whole body shake. She loved how he was making her feel.
If I don't escape soon… this is torturing me.
“Such a good little slut, are you about to cum all over my boot?” Brings her back to reality. She looked up at the Knight and nodded, mouth still full with his cock. “Wait for Daddy.” He snickered, using the accidental pet name from earlier. She started blushing and getting all embarrassed again. He started moving his foot back and forth against her clit, “Feel good Peanut?” She nodded in response, wanting to please him.
“C'mon Belle, you gotta milk Daddy's cock in order to cum.”
Belle?
She pulled him out of her mouth and started focusing on his tip, sucking on the head and then swirling her tongue around in motions in between. Jason always told her to focus on the head and use her hands for his shaft.
“Good girl Belle, you want Daddy to cum huh?” She looked up at him and nodded her head. “Such a little whore, trying to make your kidnapper cum, what would Batman think?” She could feel him twitching in her mouth, so she picked up the pace so she could be done and over with it already.
“You know Daddy is about to cum huh? You wanna cum so bad, don’t you princess? Are you sure you don’t want me to fuck that tight little pussy after?”
She contemplated, she did want it. She was aching for it, and the thought of her being fucked by a mysterious man made her even more aroused, getting cockdrunk. Except, if she accepted it then she wouldn't be Jason’s princess anymore, and she wouldn’t be pure. She spent countless nights horny, wanting to feel and touch her Jaybird, wanting him to come back from the dead and make her feel good. She wanted the Knight to decide for her, she would complain if he did fuck her, and would if he didn't.
I wanna see his face…
Her heart and her pussy said yes, but her brain kept telling her no.
“C'mon Belle, you have to decide. Daddy can make you feel all good, and he can breed that princess cunt too. He can help take all of your worries away, you won't have to fight anymore, and Daddy will take care of you. You'll be mine, princess.” Upon hearing all of that from the Knight, she came all over his boot and ultimately decided that she wanted him to fuck her. The Knight grabbed her hair and shoved his cock in deeper, cumming in her mouth. “I want every drop swallowed.” She swallowed immediately, opening her mouth and showing. “Good girl.” he praised, he touched her face rubbing her cheek. He picked her up and placed her on the bed, which she didn't realize until now had a Care Bear on it. “Your little Robin told me how much you love your Care Bears and since I'm never gonna let you go I stole it from your bedroom.” The Knight mocked.
He's been in my room?
“W-What?” she was terrified, and her whole body started shaking. “Why do you want me?” She put the emphasis on me.
“I thought you would be a great slave for me.” he chimed. He grabbed the same knife as before and started cutting the rest of the Batgirl suit, starting from the top of the crotch up to her neck. Once he got the top cut off he worked on getting her out. When she was fully out she started trying to run away from him, and immediately got pulled back by the Knight. He slapped her and held her down at her wrists. “Stop trying to run, you can't.”
Seeing her in her bra and her pretty little panties, she had a yellow sports bra on, and a tiny pair of cheeky panties with little yellow daisies all over, with an embroidered daisy on the front. “Oh, Belle. I didn't know that these were this pretty or else I would have gotten you out of that suit a long time ago.” He was enamored, staring at the tiny piece of fabric that was soaking wet. Her panties couldn't hold anymore and all of her arousal was trickling down her thighs. “You're soaked, Belle.” Seeing how wet she was for him got him rock-hard. “Too bad you won’t be needing underwear anymore.” he snickered. He let go of her wrists and put his knee on her stomach making sure she couldn't try an escape again. He started taking off her bra and as soon as it was up high enough her large breasts fell out. “Look at those pretty tits, so big and perky.” He threw the bra across the room and started groping her breasts. He moved on and got off of her and held her down with his hand on his stomach. He pulled off the panties slowly wanting to make her squirm. Her whole face was bright red. He took them off after what felt like hours and stuffed them in his pocket.
He started looking at her body and was eyeing her waist and saw scars littered across her skin. He then looked at the rest of her body and saw that her whole body was covered in self-inflicted wounds. “Oh, Belle. Why would you do this to yourself?” he asked, his voice modulator covering up how sad he was seeing his princess covered in scars. She tried covering up her body feeling embarrassed and ashamed. “It's my fault he's dead. I deserve to be in pain, I deserve to be punished.” She started crying, putting her hands up to her face to cover her tears. He moved her hands to uncover and looked at her. “It's not your fault Belle.”
“You don't have to do any of that to your body anymore, you won’t be allowed to have sharp objects under my watch. I'm gonna make you feel amazing and get you all cockdrunk. What do you say, Princess? You wanna thank Daddy for rescuing you from Bruce? So you can be Daddy’s little slave forever and never have to go outside again? I can bring you everything you want and need.”
Bruce?
#jason todd x reader#arkham knight x reader#jason todd#batman#red hood#arkham knight#smut#angst#with a little bit of fluff
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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.
He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.
Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.
"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.
"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.
"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."
He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.
Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."
"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."
Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."
"Is it?"
He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."
"My point exactly."
His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.
---
The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.
Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.
Or so Eddie thought.
Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.
"Harrington?"
"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."
Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.
Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"
The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.
By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.
The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.
His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.
Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."
And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.
Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.
Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.
It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.
They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.
"You won," Steve says.
"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."
"You deserved it."
He shrugs. "I don't know about that."
"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"
Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"
Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.
"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.
"You--what?"
"What if I did mean it?"
"You're straight."
Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."
"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"
"Um. Since you invited me to this?"
"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"
"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"
"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"
"I thought that happened to everyone!"
"It doesn't!"
"That's what Robin said!"
They're both yelling.
"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.
"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"
He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.
"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"
"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."
"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."
Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."
"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.
He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.
"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."
He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"
"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."
Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.
"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.
"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."
And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.
He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.
Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."
"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.
"Why not?"
"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.
Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#fluff#friends to lovers#famous eddie munson#regular guy steve harrington#feelings confession#oblivious steve harrington#the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi#eddie falls first steve falls harder#eddie's so cool about it#grammy award winning eddie munson#vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars#driver roll up the partition please#a little bit spicy
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hammock.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader
Word Count: 866 words
Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive
“You’re blushing.”
“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”
You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.
“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.
His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”
“Not even if you hated me?”
“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”
“That’s awful.”
“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”
(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)
Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.
Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?”
“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”
He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”
“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”
The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.
“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”
The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.
You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.
“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”
“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”
“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”
“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”
He visibly droops. “I know.”
“Good.”
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”
The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.
You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.
“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”
“Is that what you really want to do?”
“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)
“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.
With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.
“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”
“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”
Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."
“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”
“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”
The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.
“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”
#one piece#opla#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#opla sanji#one piece live action#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#reader insert#fluff#slightly suggestive bc of the comment sanji makes at the end haha#sorry for the delay in requests i was in an accident yesterday and life things are happening so !!#i am posting this which has been in my drafts for a little bit
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come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
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hobie brown loves to make you flustered!! like it’s his favourite thing!!! seeing you get all hot in the cheeks when he makes some flirty comment. y’look ravishing today, love in his thick accent. cue you stumbling through a thank you and desperately avoiding looking him in the eye. that’s the other thing!!! he will look you straight in the eye when he’s talking to you. it’s totally intimidating and a little (a lot) attractive. it tells you he’s paying attention to you and isn’t distracted by anything or anyone else. he wants to listen to you and talk to you. he wants to hear what you’ve got to say.
also!!! he’s not really a pda guy I feel like. mostly because he doesn’t want to embarrass you in front of other people but also, it just doesn’t appeal to him? he doesn’t see the point in showing everyone you’re his, they should already know by now, anyway. he likes to save the intimate stuff for when it’s just you and him, y’know? so when you’re alone boyyy does he get handsy …
you’re at the kitchen counter eating cereal in the morning and he comes up behind you out of nowhere (his spider powers mean he’s very quiet on his feet when he wants to be) and just scoops you into a hug, his arms locking around your waist. you drop your spoon into your bowl in surprise and milk splashes everywhere. you scold him and try to get up for a paper towel but he’s got an iron grip and does not want to let go. he ignored your struggling, burying his face in your neck with a muttered, s’no use crying over spilt milk, babe in his raspy I-just-woke-up voice. you’re watching a movie on the couch and he’s got his arm around your waist, his hand under your shirt and squeezing at the flesh of your hip. or on your thigh, rubbing circles into your jeans. he’s kissing you and both of his big hands are cupping your jaw, tilting you upwards for a better angle, because he’s so tall that even if you’re tall too he still towers over you.
(also I cannot stop thinking about how big his hands are. how he’d always have one on your waist or hip or the small of your back. how he’d squeeze your hip when he wants your attention or how he cups your face with his abnormally large hand when he pulls you in for a kiss.)
#I think. I think I’m maybe just a bit obsessed#just a little bit#★ mal writes!#ღ hobie#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown blurb#hobie brown drabble#spiderpunk#spiderpunk x reader#spiderman x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#spiderman: across the spiderverse#spiderman#hobie brown fluff
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𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 that Xavier is everything you could possibly want in a boyfriend. Not only does he have that boyish charm about him but he's also fiercely protective, warm hearted and gentle too. Xavier knows you like the faint lines of his palms, like the back of his hand, he reads you with ease — so much so that you sometimes wish he wouldn't.
Whether you need a shoulder to cling to and cry, someone to just hold you in their strong arms for a long while, Xavier's got you. I think there's nothing more comforting than hearing the affirmation from him, "I'm here." Those two words are consumed with comfort, never faltering whenever he says it.
Xavier knows what you need without you even needing to say it. He can tell by your expressions, those emotions that you hope to bury somewhere deep in your chest, and just knows. He doesn't push, doesn't prod, just simply opens his arms for you and waits. Even if it takes days before you come to him, he's there. "I promise I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. "Not now. Not soon. Not ever."
#I might love him a little bit okay :(#xavier x reader#xavier drabbles#xavier headcanons#xavier fluff#xavier scenarios#xavier x you#love and deep space x you#love and deep space x reader#love and deep space fluff#love and deep space drabbles#l&ds#l&ds x reader#l&ds fluff
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Hi, i can’t help but request this because you write so beautifully.
So I just had the idea of a former ballerina being sacrificed to Sukuna. She does her work good and gracefully but she longs for old times where she was able to dance and feel like she’s flying again. So she does it in the evening in Sukunas garden. He of course notices and as culture lover he is he makes her his personal dancer. And a cute lil love story forms from this scenario.
I would be so thankful if you form this to a proper story because i don’t have enough imagination. Love your work
Thank you for the compliment! I apologize in advance for my butchered descriptions of dance scenes and hope you like what I came up with anyways <3
Swan Lake
Sukuna x Reader
Word count: 6.3k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader but the words maid, whore and bitch are used, true form! sukuna, bullying, fluff with a very brief and soft smut scene at the end!
Sukuna doesn't care where his servants come from. People get offered to him all the time, and he takes them when he feels his palace is understaffed. And that happens quite often, considering how eagerly Sukuna gets rid of his servants for the smallest inconveniences. His staff is disposable to him, having no value beyond the services they provide him with.
So he doesn't know about your past. He doesn't know you were once an esteemed entertainer. He doesn't know that you were touring the world, sharing your art with audiences of all different classes and ranks in society. He doesn't know you were once the star of the stage, hypnotizing people with the fluidity of your movements in rhythm with the music. He doesn't know you were snatched from fame, taken against your will and brought to him to pay your capturer's debt. You're not sure he's even properly looked at you, much less heard your capturer tell him who you are. You were that worthless to him.
Now you are but a maid. You spend your days on your knees, mopping blood soaked floors. At night, you share chambers with dozens of other servants. Privacy is a foreign concept in Sukuna's palace. You are not entitled to it even in the bathroom. Everything is shared for the servants. There's no space for you to even try to indulge in your beloved profession, even as a hobby. Except...
The garden. Most servants are in bed, prepared to sleep, but your eyes linger on the windows. In every way, going to the garden would be to your own detriment. Losing sleep was dangerous, it could lead to getting caught slacking off, or being ratted out about it. And the consequences for that... well. One could only imagine it wouldn't be a simple slap on the wrist.
Still, you longed for this. The work you did during the day drained you, it was repetitive and soulless. You weren't made to clean floors. You were made to dance, it was your destiny. Since childhood, you don't remember a period of time as long as this one, where you haven't had the opportunity to enjoy your passion. Tears stung your eyes as this revelation found you. Every day, you could feel your life slipping through your fingers. You were alive, but your energy, your liveliness, your personality, all of it was dissipating in the pools of blood you were forced to clean.
''Can you be quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep.'', a servant who sleeps in the bed next to yours snaps you out of your thoughts. You are sobbing. You apologize quickly, and snuggle in bed, trying to muffle the noises against your deflated pillow.
But sleep just doesn't take you that night. You grow more and more frustrated, as time passes and you toss and turn in bed. Eyes wide open, fixed to the window across you. The garden lures you, calls for you. Damn it. You have to try. This is not much of a life anyways, you think. Sooner or later Sukuna or Uraume would find faults in what you're doing anyways, and you'd be served for dinner. You don't exactly have a lot to lose.
Sneaking out of the chambers is easy. You spent your whole life on your tippy toes. No one moves in their sleep as you cross the room, open the door and slide through the crack. Quietly, you make your way around the mansion. Outside, you're greeted by a light summer breeze. The garden is eerily peaceful, lit by the moonlight in this late hour.
You start to warm up, hopping, circling your neck, swinging your legs. Feeling the stretches in muscles you forgot you had. The grass tickles your legs as you splay across the ground and reach for your feet. Then stand and shift your weight to your toes, feeling out how rusty you've gotten in the time you've missed out on practicing. It's not too bad.
So you start out slow. The music plays in your head and you mouth silently, counting the rhythm. Your eyes are glued to the ground, you're trying not to trip and fall on the uneven surface. Your movement feels as smooth as it did before, but you can't see yourself in the mirror to check your form. You close your eyes, surrendering to the cadence of your motions. The music carries you, and as you turn into a poised second arabesque, time seems to slow. It's only a moment, but when you turn back to continue...
Slam. So hard you start to fall back, but his arms catch you around the waist. If you weren't scared out of your mind you would've wondered how did he even show up there without you noticing. But of course, he's Sukuna. You look at him with eyes so wide you think they may fall out, and he stares back with an amused smirk. Then he bites the air in front of you, clanking his sharp teeth together, and you scream in response. His hand flies to your mouth in an instant and he shuts you up.
"Quiet now. You wouldn't want to wake your colleagues up, would you?", he tilts his head, observing your terrified expression. "Or do you want everyone to slack off with you tomorrow?"
"I-I won't slack off I promise!!!", you panic, hands shaking as you bring them up in a defensive stance. Tears pool in your eyes as you stare death in the face. He is... weirdly beautiful, lit by the moonlight. And he holds you sturdily, but gently. It doesn't hurt. And he doesn't seem particularly mad.
"Is that so?", he asks. There's a smile on his face, but it feels dangerous, threatening. Like everything else about him. "Then just what do you think you're doing outside at this hour?"
"I was- I was dancing -", you stutter, struggling to form coherent sentences. Why are you so close to him? You're pulled flush against him. You can almost feel his -
"I didn't know I had a dancer in my ranks. Why didn't you say so?", he says, and surprisingly lets go of you.
You're so sure he's playing with his food. You're so sure he's going to slice you into pieces. You've already crossed so many lines, broken so many rules. You look to the ground, only now remembering eye contact with him was strictly forbidden.
"Speak.", he growls, audibly irritated by your refusal to reply.
You didn't think he was genuinely asking. What the hell are you supposed to say? Why didn't you say so? Maybe because you wanted to see the light of day again? "I ... A lowlife such as myself has no place speaking to your Highness.", you duck your head low in an apologetic manner. And he seems satisfied, smiling playfully again. Except you don't see it, you feel it. Sukuna's presence pulls the most demeaning, self-depricating things out of people's mouths.
"Humble.", he comments and walks a couple steps around you. He's huge. "Go on then, dance for me."
You stand frozen. It's not that you're ashamed... you've performed for audiences bigger than you ever could've imagined. But the weight of his stare is harder to bear than that of hundreds. And the stakes are higher than ever. He has to like it, or else...
"Dance!", he orders sternly, and crosses his arms over his chest. So you give it your all. Remembering where he interrupted you, you get back into position and start. Dance. Your life depends on it, doesn't it? Well if there's one thing you can do to save your life it should be this.
But it's not like before. Fear seeps into every muscle in your body, and your movements are unsure. Every jump is fleeting, every landing shaky. Tears blur your vision, and it's so hard to keep your breathing steady when you're struggling not to cry. But you're a ballet dancer, you were trained to endure. You finish the variation, cross your legs and gracefully bow.
Sukuna watches intently with narrowed eyes, like a predator stalking his prey. You can't see the sly smile on his face, but you can feel it.
"I apologize, your Highness.", your voice trembles. "It wasn't my best."
Sukuna huffs in amusement and waves his hand dismissively. "Go to sleep.", he orders.
You bow before him again, and quickly turn back towards the mansion. You don't feel relief from his piercing stare until you disappear behind a corner in the hallway.
You can't shake the feeling when you're back in your bed, snuggled in the sheets up to your eyes. You just survived a close encounter with Sukuna. And he must've liked what he saw at least a little bit, if you're still alive.
The next morning, you wake up and start getting ready for work with the other servants. The bathroom is busy, and as there's little else to do in the servant circles, gossiping starts immediately.
"Did you hear the scream last night?", the servant taking up the sink next to yours says, tapping foundation into her skin.
"Screams come from Sukuna's chambers all the time. It must be a new pet getting used to him.", another one replies. You shiver.
"Everyone knows how that sounds. This was different!", the two maids exchange a look.
The second rolls her eyes. "So, he killed someone. Nothing new.", she shakes her head.
"No. Uraume would've called someone to clean it up immediately.", the first servant continues. You really, really wish they would just drop it, until... "Hey you.", she turns to you. "Your bed was empty last night, did you hear anything?"
Your blood runs cold. "I was... feeling sick. And went to the bathroom.", you say quickly. "I probably couldn't hear... over the sound of throwing up."
"Hm.", both of them look at you now. "Well you look sick too.", one of them says. "Be careful with work today.", then they finish up and leave. You breathe a sigh of relief and finish up getting ready.
The next few days pass spotlessly. You don't cross paths with Sukuna. But some nights, you feel his presence in the garden. You stretch and practice simple movements in the bathroom, when no one's around. And the variations, you save them for the garden. At night. The only time you feel alive, the only time you feel like yourself. Human. Free. You think you might just get away with no one knowing, but then...
He walks past you and another maid while you're scrubbing the floors in the hallway. Both of you freeze as he passes by, assuming a submissive position and greeting him. You pray he won't notice, pray he won't know you by your voice, but he stops. Right by you, and then there's a moment of silence. He lifts his foot, touching your chin, and nudges you to look at him.
"Oh.", you watch his stern expression soften. "It's a shame for a talent like yourself to waste away on their knees.", he says. You look to the servant next to you, and she mouths a silent 'what?' as she turns her head in your direction.
You swallow your shame. It's not the first time you had to in front of Sukuna. "Its an honor to serve you, your Highness, even if it's on my knees.", you say.
Sukuna hums. "What a good servant you are.", an amused smile graces his face once again. "Well, get to rubbing then.", he nudges your face back downwards with his foot, and walks away.
You and the servants keep rubbing intensively, until he's out of sight and a couple minutes have passed. Then she grabs you by your shoulders and gives you a look that is both terrified and angry. "You did what with Sukuna?", she asks.
You frown, offended. Why does everyone in this mansion immediately think of that? "He knows I'm a dancer.", you say simply and look back to the floor, rage brewing in your chest.
"When did you do it. Was it you screaming? Oh my god it was!", the revelation hits the servant and she puts her hands on her cheeks, looking at you in shock.
"It wasn't me!!", you lie, agitation showing in your voice.
"Does he really have two dicks?", she asks.
You drain the washing rug and smack her in the face with it. "You disgusting pervert, how dare you ask that about your master!"
"You hit me! Whore!", she smacks you back, but harder, and her rag is full of dirty water.
"I'm not a whore!!", you cry, and wipe your face with your dirty, wet hands.
"Dancer. Yeah right, I can only imagine!", she throws the wet rag on you, and it sits on your lap, soaking you in the nasty liquid. "And you're a liar too! How shameless!"
"What is this commotion about?", a voice calls from the back of the hallway, and you turn around with teary eyes. Uraume looks like a blob of white in your vision, nonetheless they're recognizable.
"Tell them! You hit me, you little bitch!", the servant slaps your shoulder. You don't have it in you to fight back. The injustice pains your heart, and you can't bear the embarrassment.
Uraume smirks, noting your disheveled appearance. Your whole uniform is soaked now, even your hair. There's a pool of water forming around you as the liquid seeps out of the rags. "Clean this mess immediately. Master will be notified of this issue.", they say, and walk past the two of you.
The servant looks at you with contempt burning in her eyes. Then spits in front of you. "Clean.", she says, takes the rag you hit her with and starts cleaning.
Sukuna sees you that evening. He sits on his throne, head in his hand, and looks down on you and the other servant. He hides his inner smile, the joy he takes in executing power over others. And it's you again. He asks what this is about, and the servant wastes no time pointing her finger at you, saying you hit her first.
Sukuna's critical stare turns to you. ''Is that true?'', he asks, scanning you from head to toe, noting the state you're in. He's not particularly happy to see you like that.
You timidly nod, admitting your fault in the situation. Your stare is fixed to the ground, where dirty water drips down from your soaked clothes. You smell, and look like a rat, all of that in front of Sukuna. You wish the ground would swallow you whole and spare you this humiliation.
But he knows you. You've captivated him. Otherwise he wouldn't have cared to ask if you have anything to say in your defense. You tell him, omitting the details of her perverse question, you simply say she was slandering his holy name.
Sukuna moves, leaning his elbows on his knees. You care about his name? How lovely. So what is this slanderous thing his servants fought about?
Silence. You and the servant exchange uncomfortable looks. If there was one thing the both of you could agree on for the day, it was that repeating it in front of him was too vulgar. With that, Sukuna quickly grows bored with the situation. When he raises his hand, both of you flinch, expecting immediate punishment. However, nothing happens when he flicks his fingers. You're dismissed.
Quickly, both of you scurry away, leaving the throne room and going back to your jobs. The rest of the day is harrowing. The rumor spreads among the servants quickly, and you are the butt of every joke. You hear whispering and giggling behind your back, and everyone's stares linger on you as you go about your day. The culmination happens next morning, when the servants are getting ready in the bathroom, and the insults start getting more direct.
''Show us how you dance for Sukuna, why don't you?''
''Did you take both at the same time?''
''He didn't like you very much if you're still working as a servant.''
And then everyone goes quiet. When you turn around, you see Uraume at the door, their eyes fixed on you. ''Come.'', they say quietly, and leave without waiting for you to catch up. Well, it seems your punishment is due. You gladly leave the bathroom and follow them down the hall, anything is better than spending another second with the other servants. But now that you think of it, where is the servant that shares your punishment? Have you even seen her this morning? Or after the meeting with Sukuna at all?
You turn a couple corners, and stop at the end of the hallway. Uraume opens the doors to a room, and ushers you inside. What is this? It's furnished. Modestly, but... You open your mouth to ask a question, but you're quickly cut off.
''Make yourself at home.'', they say, and turn their attention to you.
''What about my things?'', you ask, looking around the room, then back to Uraume.
''You won't need them. Do you have good table manners?''
''Uhh.. yeah... I think.''
''Great. You dine with Master Sukuna tonight.''
''Huh!?''
''Your outfit is on the bed, be ready by sunset. I'll come to pick you up.''
Then the door closes and you're left alone in your new room. This isn't what a punishment should look like. Not when a beautiful kimono waits on your bed. Not when there's a barre fixed onto a mirrored wall, and there's a box on the ground, and when you open it, you find pointe shoes. Multiple pairs. He didn't know what size to get you. Ribbons, a sewing kit, glue, scissors... everything you need to break them in. Under that, a simple black leotard and a wrap skirt. By all means... this looks more like a reward.
You try everything on, find the perfect pair of shoes, and test them. It's not a big room, but there's enough space for you to practice with the bar. For the first time in so long, time passes quick. You're doing something you enjoy. It feels like in a blink of an eye, your shadow gets long on the wall opposing the window, and you have to get ready for dinner. You put the kimono on to the best of your ability - you don't have the opportunity to wear it often as a servant, being usually restrained in a uniform. And then reality hits you. Sukuna wants to have you over for dinner. This... is this a date? Unless he was planning to eat you, but you suppose he wouldn't have bought you shoes and furnished a room specially for you if that was the case... Come to think of it, what are you eating tonight?
Uraume knocks on the door, and takes a long look at you when you open. They fix your collar and nod, taking off down the hallway and expecting you to follow. They lead you to the dining room, vast and expensively furnished. You hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You only let your eyes explore for a second, before you fix them back to the ground and lower your head in Sukuna's presence.
''Your Highness.'', you bow in his direction.
''Master from now on.'', he says, and stands up to greet you. Master. You've only heard Uraume, and occasionally his pets, when he'd walk by with them, call him this by this... less formal title. He towers over you as his hand touches your shoulder, urging you to turn around. You follow obediently, making a circle and displaying your outfit.
He hums in approval. "Suits you much better than a cleaning uniform.", he says, and pulls your chair out for you to sit. You mutter a quiet thank you and sit down, already overwhelmed by the interaction.
He sits on the other side of the table, facing you. You can't bear the intense eye contact, and the silence that spreads across the room. Your eyes are fixed to your hands in your lap. ''Don't be shy now. I didn't invite you to sit there and be quiet. I reserve such duties for my pets.'', he breaks the silence.
''Master. Sharing a meal with you is a privilege, and I want to thank you for that. I'm not sure I'm deserving of it, though, and how my company may be of use to you.''. The kitchen servants scatter around the table, bringing food and pouring drinks. Various appetizers decorate the table, and only now do you notice you're hungry. You shyly pick the foods that catch your eye the most.
And your humility draws out a smile from him. ''You are an artist. And I am a man who takes great joy in consuming art.'', he says, and taps his finger against his glass, watching you pick. He's getting to know you, through your taste in food.
''I didn't know that about you.'', you say and look to your plate. You feel your hand shaking as you reach for the cutlery. You know Sukuna is judging every move. He was in your territory when you were dancing, now you're on his. And he will recognize the smallest mistake.
''Oh.'', his tone changes. It sounds like he didn't particularly like that comment. He finishes chewing. ''Did you take me for a savage?'', he narrows his eyes. More food is brought to the table, plates come and go quickly as the conversation progresses, and the tension grows.
You stutter, reading his volatile mood. ''I've only heard rumors.''.
He huffs in amusement again. ''I've heard rumors about you too.'', he says, leaning into the table. ''To be fair, I was asking around.''. So he took interest in you. ''They say you were the best there was, until you got captured.''
You chew slowly, taking his story in. He continues. ''They asked about you. Asked if I knew where you are. I said no.''. Sukuna watches as you grow visibly distressed by the mentions of your team. ''The best there is? What a wonderful prize. I'd rather keep you to myself.''. Oh. So that's what this is about. He gets off on the thought of owning you, the best there is, just for himself. You curse whoever told him about you. ''You showed me your worst, and mesmerized me. I want you to show me your best. Dance for me. Convince me you're worth my patronage.''.
The servants bring the main dish, and your head droops, stare fixed into the finely decorated red meat. You touch it with your cutlery, feeling it's texture. Sukuna eyes you as you cut a slice and bring it to your mouth, expectantly waiting for your reaction. You chew slowly, savoring the taste, but your expression is puzzled. ''What is this?'', you ask. And to make sure it doesn't sound like you're unhappy, you cut another slice. Truthfully, the food is incredible, but... you can't quite place the meat.
Sukuna bares his sharp teeth in a grin. ''Veal.''.
The conversation steers into a different direction then, and you quickly forget about how powerless you felt just moments ago. Sukuna is nothing like you've imagined him. He's right, you did take him for a savage. After all, everything you've heard about him pointed to a monster, who only took pleasure in wreaking havoc and destruction. Now, you find him to be eloquent, knowledgeable, and quite sophisticated. In a way, he appears similar to the other people you've met through your job. But way more powerful, and with it, way more intriguing.
Once again, time passes quickly, slipping through your fingers. The dinner is over, and you're facing Sukuna at the door. He seems to be pleased with your company, if you can read his face at all. ''Should I consider my offer accepted?'', he inquires. ''Everything will be provided for you. You just have to dance.''.
Well, it doesn't sound half bad, does it? You're not sure if the terms of the offers convinced you, or his presentation during the dinner. It might just be him. He made you feel you wouldn't be a jester, but a respected entertainer. And not for just anyone, but for a man as thoughtful and cultured as Sukuna proved himself to be. ''For you, gladly. Master.'', you smile at him. And he smiles back, taking your small hand into his, and planting a soft kiss to your fingers. You bow to him, wish him a good night, and you part ways.
Later, in your new bed, you find yourself replaying the interaction. Tracing his features in your memory. It's the first time you've had the chance to observe him, without fear of consequences. And he was beautiful. So elegant in the way he dressed and carried himself. Like a true king.
From then on, life in Sukuna's mansion is a game. Sukuna courts you in his dining room, feeding you delicacies from all around the world Foods that are hard and expensive to come by, that you've never heard of before. He courts you with the things he allows you to do, and the gifts he gives you. You dance and eat and walk around his garden and library. You don't dine with him every night, but when you do, rest assured that a new outfit is waiting for you in your room when you get back from practice.
And you court him on the floor, with feathery leaps that leave him on the edge of his seat, and dizzying turns that force him to focus all four eyes on you. You court him when you finish the variation by bowing before him, on one knee, a breath away from where he's sitting. And when you look up at him, he sees a lover rather than a personal dancer. Even though he's never touched you, or pressed his lips to yours.
There is love in the foods he picks for you specifically to enjoy, and there is love in the way you let him watch you practice. Even if you mess up, misstep and fall out of rhythm. Even if you stumble and fall in the most unceremonious of ways. There is vulnerability in letting him see you fail. It only happens a handful of times, but when you slip before him, you feel more naked than you would ever feel with your clothes off. And the relationship that the two of you foster grows intimate, despite the formal distance you keep from each other.
And that distance closes in, one day when Sukuna is there during a particularly nasty fall. You yelp when you hit the ground, and reach for your ankle, checking for injury. You only notice Sukuna when you feel his hand on your shoulder, and his brows furrowed in worry as his head looms over you. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you're hypnotized. Then you look away quickly, feeling your face heat up from the closeness.
''It's nothing.'', you say, and look down.
''Sure?'', Sukuna asks and stands up. You nod, and he offers you a pair of his hands, to help you stand. You take them, and he hoists you up effortlessly. And now you're face to face with his chest, and you're still holding his hands... ''That should to for today.'', he says, and when you look at him, there's a tender smile on his face. It sounds like a suggestion, but you've learned Sukuna is subtle about giving you orders. You nod, dust yourself off and untie your shoes.
That night, you recall his touch on your skin. Long fingernails ghosting over your shoulder, sending shivers through your whole body. You never expected Sukuna to have it in him to be gentle. But, that wouldn't be the first time he's broken the mold you thought he fit. And now in the cold of night, you find yourself craving him.
The next time you're invited to dinner, the tension is almost unbearable. ''Aren't you a sight to behold?'', he tells you when he welcomes you into the room. He always gives you compliments, but tonight they weigh heavy on your heart. You look across the table and curse every plate and glass that stands between the two of you. You look at him with quiet longing, and you think he knows. Because his smile is victorious, almost teasing. And when you accidentally hit his leg under the table, you start to credit it less to his size, and more to him deliberately crossing into your space. Subtlety is not a word you ever thought you'd attribute to Sukuna, but it seems this is the way you've established communication. You resist the instinct to remove your leg apologetically. So they stay touching.
Unfortunately, this little interaction slowly turns your brain into mush. By the last bite, your hand is trembling and you know you don't have the precision to pick up the last piece of food with your chopsticks. So you leave it on the plate, and wait for a moment when Sukuna is at least a little bit distracted, to attempt eating it again.
But such a thing doesn't happen. Today, he looks at you like you're the food on his plate. "Come on, eat it.", he nods in your direction. You can't read his expression, but it seems benevolent.
"I'm so full.", you make up an excuse.
"Just one strip.", he nudges your leg under the table, and you flinch, cheeks heating up.
"I.. I think I'll combust.", lies.
"I'll be offended.", Sukuna plays along with your game.
"Ah...", he wins, and you pick up your chopsticks with shaky hands. But as hard as you try, the little piece of food keeps escaping you, traveling through the plate.
"What makes you so flustered today?", he asks. "Is it the leg?". You blink at the plate, and feel your face going as red as the wine in your glass. "Come.", he waves his finger at you. You lean into the table, used to following his commands. And in no time, he is looming over your plate, one hand picking the last piece of your food with his chopsticks, and the other gently taking hold of your chin, nudging your mouth open. You part your lips obediently, and he places the bit onto your tongue, never breaking eye contact. His face is mere centimeters away from yours, observing you as you chew.
And the moment you've swallowed, and opened your mouth for air, he seizes you in a kiss. Slow, as he tastes your lips, and lets you adjust and catch up with him. He feels you go tense with the initial shock, then relax in his hold and kiss him back. His tongue brushes past your lips, and you think you'll sink right through your chair, and into the earth beneath the floor. The taste, the smell of him, so expensive and intoxicating. If this moment could last forever -
Foolish you. So much stress and tension, and you barely notice how quickly it passes. , how quickly his lips leave yours. His eyes scan your face, making sure you're alright, and then he's back in his chair. "There.", he says, "Have something to be flustered about."
That night, you think about his lips, slipping away from yours and moving to your neck, collarbones, shoulders. Not stopping until they've explored your whole body and touched your soul.
In the meantime, you practice your chosen choreography to perfection. And when you're standing in his throne room and awaiting the music, and your deciding performance to start, it's the first time in a while that you recognize feeling nervous. Uraume is there too, and his other disciples and guests. But he is the only one that matters. The only one your life depends on. Although the times when your life was truly on the line are long gone, Sukuna is still your patron, and now it's your turn to either satisfy or disappoint him.
The music starts, and the nervousness wanes as you start dancing. Sukuna's gaze is heavy, critical. He's seen you do this times and times already, but now it's final. Now, he's telling you, ''Bewitch me.''. Now, you're joining it together, one seamless show just for his enjoyment. And with every spin, you keep your eyes fixed on him. Enticing him with your movement, seducing him.
And for once, time passes quick for Sukuna as well. He finds himself lost in your dance. In your quick glances, in the way your body moves, contorts, withstands your weight on your tippy toes with so much grace and fluidity. You make it look easy. You nail the landing you failed so many times before his very eyes, perfectly, effortlessly. He almost wonders if you fell intentionally when he was watching you. And he's captivated. By the end of your performance, you earn his smile. You earn the clap of his hands, you even earn his standing ovation. The king himself, honoring you with the highest form of praise.
''It takes quite a performer, to entertain a crowd all by oneself.'', he comments later, over dinner. ''You've convinced me. You're worth keeping.''
''And when I can't dance anymore?'', you ask.
''You'll still be able to eat with me.'', he says.
At the doors, he bends down to kiss you again. You anticipate it, and accept it, kneading your hands through his hair. He asks if you're tired, and you shake your head no. He asks if you want to come with him. Yes, please yes, you've wanted to for so long. You almost thought he'd never ask. Again, his face lights up in a victorious smile.
He walks you through the halls, to his quarters of the mansion. Vast, and decorated with various works of art. They hang on the wall, or stand on the cupboards in forms of statues of various sizes. Sukuna likes to collect things, if that wasn't evident by your presence in the mansion.
''You're dragging behind. Did you have a change of heart?'', he asks, and extends his hand towards you. You step closer, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. You're standing at the doors of his bedroom.
''I was just admiring the interior.'', you smile at him, and take it upon yourself to cross the doorstep. His bedroom overlooks the garden, through a tall set of windows, little plants sitting on his windowsill. And his bed is massive. You think it could fit four people of your size. But then again, Sukuna is not a normal sized person. Your hand finds the mattress, testing it's sturdiness. And when you turn around, he's right behind you. Towering over you, and forcing you to look up at him, like the king he is. But you're not scared. You have no reason to be.
''Lay down.'', he orders, but his voice doesn't sound stern. Still, you obey, climbing into the bed. And he follows, letting you ease into the pillows only for a moment, before he settles above you, urging your legs apart. You welcome him, finally feeling the closeness you've been craving for so long. His body, big enough to enclose you completely under him, so carefully pressed against yours. Light enough not to hurt, but heavy enough to establish power. To give you what you want, what you've craved for a very long time.
He never lets you forget whose grasp you're in. He folds your smaller body with ease, adjusting you to his liking. And you let him, trusting him with your body and pleasure. He takes you gently, slowly, making sure you're comfortable in the process. You feel so full of him, but it's not enough, not enough until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. You feel up his muscled arms and back, wrap around him, pull him closer with every stroke, every swipe of his lips against yours. Sukuna draws the moans out of you with practiced thrust of his hips, hitting spots inside you you didn't know existed. In no time you're seeing stars - his four eyes, never leaving yours as you come apart.
And Sukuna is stoic for the most part, but by the end of it, even he is loosing his composure. Hungry moans slip past his lips, his brows furrowing as he concentrates, trying not to let out too soon. You encourage him, babbling sweet nonsense into his ear. This flustered Sukuna, completely engulfed in the chase of his own pleasure, is as close as you've come to seeing a god. Moments later, his hips still, and you feel his muscles tense as he reaches completion, deep grunts filling your ears like the sweetest music.
You lay in his embrace, and trace your fingertips over his tattoos. Your stare is fixed on him, as he tells you various anecdotes from his long lifetime. You enjoy the opportunity to admire his beauty from up close. His eyes, so unusually benevolent as they stare outside the window and turn to you from time to time, to check if you're awake. The curve of his nose, the glimpses of his sharp teeth, his strong, masculine jawline. He is an art piece on his own.
After a while, he notices you struggling to stay awake. His hand on the back of your head nudges you to lay on his chest. He whispers you a good night, and runs his hand through your hair as you drift off. It's been a long day you've dedicated entirely to him, so he finds you worthy of this special treatment. After all, it isn't often that someone claims the title of both Sukuna's personal dancer and his lover, much less in the same day.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#soft sukuna#sukuna x you#see i love ballet. i even know a little bit about ballet#but WRITING ABOUT IT?? HELLLLLP#i just didnt know how to incorporate terms specific to it so everything is super vague#tons of dialogue in this one too!!#and the first fic i write where sukuna genuinely considers reader to be his equal and not a subhuman pet lol#it was fun to consider how he would act with someone like that#the dining scenes and the whole courtship thing? 100% inspired by hannibal.#dont ask me about it or i will write an essya
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Eddie walks in on you crying and he is immediately dropping to his knees.
Maybe you'd try to hide it. You don't like to show intense emotion like that, especially not in front of other people. Maybe it's been building for a long time and you just break without warning.
You're sitting at your desk with your face tucked into your shirt, tears streaming, hiccuping gasps, mouth contorted in a silent sob. Willing it to stop, to get back in control, for the sorrow to remove it's claws from your chest and let you breathe again.
Eddie edges the door open with his foot, about to bust in and shower you with affection, but the moment he sees you, hears your small cries, everything stops. He's across the room and to your side in 3 long-legged steps, dropping to his knees with his hands hovering, torn between wanting to grab you and tuck you into him and wanting to respect any space you need.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" His concern just makes you cry harder, hiding further into the neck of your shirt, back bending as you try to curl in on yourself. Eddie's heart breaks, his hands curling into tight fists as he battles his own indecision on what to do. "Baby, please talk to me. Can I hold you? Please."
Despite everything in your brain just wanting to be alone, to suffer in silence, to not show this side of yourself -- your heart wins out. You drop the curtain of cotton hiding your ruddy and wet face from him and reach out like a child. It makes you feel like one. But Eddie doesn't hesitate. He drags you out of your chair and onto the floor with him, tucking as much of yourself into him as he can. Arms wrapped around, thighs under yours, shaggy hair making a new curtain to protect your vulnerability from anyone other than him.
He covers you with warmth and care like a fiberglass blanket over a fracturing fire and it breaks you to pieces. Sorrow for yourself, for how you're feeling, for how hard it is to accept this comfort, for how much it means to you to finally have it now. For how willingly and readily Eddie was prepared to give it.
He holds you as you cry, whispering sweet things into your hairline like, "It's gonna be okay, baby, I've got you. I'm here." Rubs your back in little circles, presses his fingertips tighter when you cry out louder as the waves crash over you. He keeps holding you as your crying starts to die down into little sniffles, as your breathing evens out. He doesn't let go until you start to pull away, and even then it's with reluctance.
The moment he can see your face again he's cupping it in his big palms, eyes searching yours to see if he can find what is hurting you, slay the dragon that made you feel this way. When you just shakily smile, sniffling again, he presses a kiss to each cheek, to each eyelid, to the tip of your runny nose, to the center of your forehead. And then he drags you into his arms again.
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson hurt/comfort#eddie munson blurbs#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#myos ideas#did i write this while sobbing alone at my desk? yes i did#did it make me feel better? maybe a little bit#myo4munson
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a/n: zayne my boo <3 im sobbing over the fact that the game killed off mc’s grandma and caleb 😭
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ミ★ Love & Deep Space ミ★
pairing: zayne x fem!reader
warning(s): mentions of death, mentions of the explosion that killed mc’s grandma + childhood best friend (caleb) in game, spoilers(?)
Summary: Ever since that day, you’ve fallen in a deep, dark pit. Why did you have to be the one that they decide to destroy? Why did Caleb and Grandma have to die? Is it your fault they did? Zayne, as your primary care physician and a family friend, is concerned for your well-being.
“Sometimes, a small gesture is all it takes.”
The sound of the news on your TV, the thundering rain outside, the sound of the cars driving by your apartment—it all blurs out as you stared at the TV screen, eyes dead and unfocused on the news of the Wanderers attacking and the explosions. Some 22 casualties, two deaths. Grandma and Caleb. His necklace that you bought him as a goodbye gift when he left for the Aerospace Academy sits beside a picture of you, him, and Grandma on the coffee table, the cheerful smiles making you wished that you could revisit time.
Your apartment, once somewhat organized and clean, is now messy with things being knocked down and dirty dishes long discarded. You stare at the one last thing your Grandma left for you, some..tablet(?) with a final letter on it. You haven’t gotten the energy or the ability to open it. It pains you, seeing that you haven’t visited for so long yet when you do, this was the time her house had to explode right in front of you, flames engulfing the house and the only thing that remained was Caleb’s necklace.
“I miss you, Grandma..” You mumbled to nobody, rubbing the tears threatening to spill out your eyes as you glanced down at the item she left you with. Besides that, a small box of her old recipes of those notecards, and other small things that she had entrusted to you years before.
Around you was your laptop, papers and files on the latest Wanderer attacks around you. Yes, Captain Jenna dismissed you and said that you should take some days off to regain your energy, since you haven’t been getting the sleep or the energy you needed, but you just couldn’t.
Your door opened, yet you didn’t bother to look at who entered. “Still sitting in front of the TV?” A familiar voice spoke out, flipping the light switch on and shutting the door behind him. It was Zayne, a long time family friend and your primary care physician. “You haven’t eaten,” he bluntly says as he sets a bag of food on your table and walked into the kitchen. He bites back a sigh, knowing that you were going through a tough time, and people tended to discard everything and grieve and grieve their hearts out.
“Hello to you too, Zayne,” you replied as you shut off the news and got up off your sofa. You pile up all the papers and files you’ve scattered around and set them on the coffee table before you walk into the kitchen as Zayne is cleaning up your dirty dishes. He checks in on you whenever he’s free or when he’s off his shift. He looks back at you, only making a small hum of acknowledgment before cleaning up your dirty kitchen. You looked terrible—eyes red and puffy from crying, obvious eye bags, and the sparkles from your eyes were gone.
You yawn as you take out a bowl and some utensils for whatever food he brought in for you. You unpacked the bag as he cleaned up the dishes you couldn’t bother doing last week. Potatoes, avocado on the side, tuna salad, salmon and rice you said to yourself as you took out the food that he had carefully backed in those plastic containers for you. Then you took out the last thing. Cookie..dough? He remembered your favorite childhood snack. The kind of cookie dough you liked.
“Your grandma gave me a recipe for the cookie dough. She said that if she couldn’t make it, I should since it lightens your mood,” Zayne says as he puts your clean dishes back into the cabinet. He dries his hand off before walking over to you, watching how you stare at it like a piece of gold. Disbelief and shock were etched on your face.
Zayne puts his hand on your back, soothingly rubbing circles as you opened the container and took a bite. Your eyes almost brimmed with tears again. You could remember how your grandma used to bake in the kitchen and you’d always sneak a bite or two of the cookie dough, no care in the world if you could get salmonella.
“Thank..you, Zayne,” you finally said, turning around tightly hugging him. He was a bit hesitant at first, but he put his hand on your head, massaging your scalp as he looked down at you with a gentle look on his face.
“..You’re welcome. I miss her too.”
Zayne’s eyes looked away at the picture on the counter of your grandma. She didn’t have to go out this way.
#love and deepspace#zayne x reader#zayne x mc#vivi’s writing✫彡#writing#i wanna write#x reader#fanfiction#for funsies#i almost cried#fanfic#my darling <3#this game is so good#send me asks#love & deepspace#love & deepspace fluff#little bit of angst
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long distance | mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen
inspired by a prompt i got a while ago asking for a touch starved and anxious reader who’s been away from mapi and ingrid for a while and needs a reminder just how much the love her
no warnings just fluff n angst
There were a lot of pros of being a professional athlete. There were also a lot of negatives. Travelling fits into both categories, a lot of people would argue that travelling as a part of your job is awesome, especially when you're getting paid to. You agreed, travelling across the world to play soccer was pretty fucking awesome, getting to experience new cultures and different cuisine was one of your favourite parts of your job.
But being in a different country to your girlfriend for half of the year was pretty hard. Especially when you were a whole ocean away from each other.
Normally, you managed just fine, sure it messed with you a little bit but you managed, normally you’d get to see them every month or so with international breaks and weekends off, but it had been two months since you’d seen your other halves, and it had been starting to get to you.
A month was typically your threshold, so a two month stretch was a lot for you, especially with the busy Arsenal schedule that had you playing sometimes two games a week and training every other day you were being laid out thin, and it was starting to get to you. You started to get needy in the absence of Mapi and Ingrid, a weird mixture of distanced but also uncharacteristically clingy. You were grumpy, your typically never ending patience finding the end of its fuse.
Specifically you wouldn’t let Kim or Katie out of your sight, constantly attached at the hip to your teammates. You were aware it was annoying, and particularly problematic when you were a mixture of tired, hungry and touch deprived, that was when you were at your crabbiest.
You suspected someone had told on you, considering the rather lengthy text messages you’d been receiving from both Ingrid and Mapi expressing their worries about you, and letting you know that it was okay to feel a bit alone and that if you ever needed anything they were there. Not to say that you didn’t already know that, you trusted your girlfriends more than anybody, but it seemed that the longer you were away from them the more you seemed to feel like you were a burden to your girlfriends.
It was really fucking hard being the one who was always away, because you felt like you were always compensating for lost time. Mapi and Ingrid were always together, whereas you didn’t have that, you didn’t have the connection that they had on a daily basis, so every time you returned home to Barca, you felt like you had to strengthen that bond, that you had to work harder to make up for the lost time.
When the time finally did come around where there was an International break period you were a mixture of ecstatic and anxious. The final week in England had been a major struggle for you, to the point where Katie had to stay the week at your apartment because everyone was worried about you. You weren’t sleeping, or really taking care of yourself, too consumed by the ticking down days that were slowly getting you closer to the day of seeing your significant others.
You’d been dodging their calls as much as you could, you weren’t quite sure why but everything seemed harder when you were away from them, and seeing their faces was just the cherry on top.
It’s like when you get in the shower and you think the water is too hot but for some reason you don’t feel it. You just see the steam rising from your red skin and subconsciously you realise that it’s hurting you more to look at, so you take your eyes away and focus on the steam on the window and just go about your shower like nothings wrong.
Or at least that was what it felt like for you, like the more you saw and thought about Ingrid being together the more it actually hurt you, so you pushed it away for as long as your body could manage it.
When the day ticked over for Kim to take you to Heathrow you were at the end of your manageable threshold. You were tired and so deprived of everything that your whole life felt like an anxiously numb cloud that you were slowly drifting away on. Kim tried to talk to you, she even walked through the security with you and took you all the way to the gate like a six year old, you didn’t have to in you to protest and you got the vibe that if you did you would just end up with a really long and intricate lecture from Kim, which you couldn’t be bothered with, you were tired enough as it was.
You were just glad that the flights to Barcelona weren’t too long, so you could put on whatever shitty movie that had just come out and sit back and relax and ignore the fact that you were three hours away from being face to face with your girlfriends.
All you wanted to do was get there and makeup for lost time, go out to dinner, or do something that was the norm. You needed something normal, something just to make you feel like you weren’t a burden or a problem for your lovers.
When the plane did touch down you felt a surge of anxiety course through your veins, your body was too tired to even really feel it though, you could feel yourself forcing your body through the motions, picking up your bag from the luggage claim and the walking out into the Barca sun, trying to find a cab to take you to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment.
You knew you could have asked them to pick you up from the airport, but you felt so wrong in doing so, like it was even more trouble to ask them to go out of their way to come and collect you. So you sat in the back of an uber, your knee anxiously jumping up and down as the car slowly winded through the different Barcelona streets, with every single kilometre driven slowly reeling you in closer to your final destination.
You’d never missed anybody more in your life than you had them. When you were away, there was an empty, Mapi and Ingrid shaped hole in your heart. Nothing or nobody would ever come close to filling it, and when you were away you were certain that it might never feel whole again. You felt like you were going to be sick, like everything was riding on you being okay and this interaction being okay. What if they thought you’d changed? Two months was a long time, and sure, the three of you had been dating for nearly two years, but that didn’t make it any easier. Your hands were absentmindedly toying with the rings on your fingers, silently twisting them as you pondered what your next interaction was doing to look like.
You were so busy thinking and playing with your rings that you didn’t even realise the car had pulled up to the front of the complex, until the uber driver was turning back to look at you and signalling for you to leave his car, so you did, you picked up your bag and your stomach, which you felt was about to fall out of your mouth and walked forwards into the lobby of the apartments and straight towards the elevator. You were genuinely worried about throwing up your stomach, it felt like all of your internal organs were crammed in your throat and it was seriously affecting your brain's ability to think and your ability to breathe.
You managed to make your way to the doorstep of the apartment, and managed to raise your fist high enough to knock on the door. You had a key, but you didn’t want to break in, not without warning.
You waited a few seconds, before you were rewarded with the sight of Mapi opening the door, her eyebrows shooting up as soon as she realised that you were standing in front of her.
“Princesse, come in!”
Mapi’s face lit up immediately, and it did wonders in easing your stomach and easing up the deep frown that had become so familiar to your face recently.
You allowed Mapi to usher you into the apartment, into the kitchen where Ingrid was sitting, her eyes lighting up similarly to Mapi’s when she noticed who had entered the apartment.
“Elskling! You’re here?”
You’d thought that you’d texted one of the women to let them know about your flights, but you weren’t sure, in hindsight you probably should have looked into that.
“Yeah I’m here, sorry if I’m disturbing anything, I thought I texted one of you.”
Ingrid stood up from her spot sitting at the island bench, a bright smile on her face as she got closer to you.
“Not at all, we were just about to head out and get lunch and maybe go to the beach for some recovery, but spending the rest of the day with you sounds like a pretty good plan to me, Maria min?”
You felt your throat close up, you were stepping on their plans, something that you most definitely didn’t want to do.
“If you had plans then we can do them, I’ve had a coffee so I’m feeling great and i don’t want to ruin your plans.”
Ingrid just shook her head at you.
“Nonsense, we’ll stay in for the day.”
It sat wrong with you, knowing that you were potentially wrecking their planned day.
“No, I seriously don’t want to wreck any plans, I feel up to it.”
Ingrid’s big smile turned into a little frown, as she finally broke the barrier between the three of you, her hand reaching out to your flustered face and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.
“Elskling, in the nicest way possible, you look wrecked, how about we get into some pjs and hop into bed? You look like you're due to catch up on some sleep.”
There was little fight left in your body to disagree with Ingrid, the Norwegians' deep frown of concern working wonders at bringing down your barriers.
“Ingrid I feel fine, I seriously don’t want to ruin your guys’ plans or be a burden, let’s just do whatever y’all had planned, I feel fine.”
Ingrid let go of a deep exhale, her lungs deflating as she looked you up and down, Mapi mirroring her concerned look from behind you.
“Bebita, Kim told us that you haven’t been sleeping, that you’ve been struggling, let’s just go to bed, yeah?”
You noticed the way that Ingrid’s hand snaked it’s way down from your face to your waist, pulling your body closer to her own, craving the contact that she was providing, and the skin on skin slowly pulling the refusal out from your body. You felt yourself flinch away from Ingrid’s touch slightly, your body so shocked by the unfamiliar contact.
“Baby?”
You could hear the hesitance in Ingrid’s voice.
“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m just not used to this, it’s been a long time, I forgot what it felt like to be in your arms.”
As soon as the words were leaving your mouth Ingrid’s arms secured around you tightly, like she was never going to let go. You could feel tears pooling in your eyes, the strength that you’d been holding up for so long just by the feeling of Ingrid’s thumb massaging against your hip bone.
“Never apologise Elskling, let’s get you to bed, hm?”
You didn’t even try to protest as Ingrid led you towards the bedroom, Mapi already in the bed waiting for you. Ingrid helped you onto the bed, before handing you over into Mapi’s arms, your body falling limp against hers as it absorbed the touch it had been desperate for.
“Hiya hermosa, it’s okay, we’ve got you, you're safe here.”
You felt the pooled up tears start to fall down your face, the warm water leaking down your face like a dripping faucet, steadily creating a little reservoir of water at the base of your chin.
“Oh bebita, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here, what’s wrong?”
For you it felt like the whole world was wrong, like it was upside down and topsy turvy.
“You guys just love me too much, I’m so much trouble and you never get to see me and every time I am here I’m tired and a burden.”
Your speech was like word vomit, all of your insecurities just coming out in one go.
“Oh elskling, you’re not trouble at all. There is nothing Ingrid and I would rather do than sit around and look after you. God knows you need it after being in London for so long, you should have told us you were struggling, we would have come and visited you, even if it was just for a day. It’s human for you to need this, to need us. We love you whether you're tired or not, we couldn’t care less if our time together is spent going out or sitting in bed all day, as long as it’s with you elskling then that’s what matters the most.”
Mapi’s words only spurred your tears on, sending them ricocheting down your face.
“Oh bebita, it’s okay, Ingrid and I are here now, you're back where you should be.”
Mapi’s arms tightened around your body, bringing your head into her chest. Ingrid slid into the bed beside the two of you, a drink bottle and some paracetamol.
“Hey bebita, can you just drink some of this for me before you rest please, we don’t want you getting dehydrated.”
You didn’t want to, but you also didn’t have the energy to push it, so you took the bottle from Ingrid and took a tentative sip.
“More please elskling, at least a few more sips.”
You pulled your head from Mapi’s head, taking the offered pain relief and downing it with the sips that you took from the bottle. After downing a decent amount of the fluids you handed the bottle back to Ingrid, who placed it down on the bedside table before wrapping her own arms around you and embracing both Mapi and yourself.
You felt so safe with them, so secure, like every single insecurity or problem that you’d been dealing with in the last two months didn’t matter now, because you were in their arms, you were with them.
As you slowly drifted off to sleep you felt more at peace then you ever had, or more at peace then you’d ever felt in London, for whatever reason, when you were with the Spaniard and Norwegian every single external noise just went quiet, the world was peaceful, and they were the reason why.
Your happiness, your positive feelings all revolved around them, they were the sun and you were earth, just orbiting them and bathing in whatever sunlight that you could find.
#woso#woso community#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon#mapi león#ingrid engen#mapi leon x ingrid engen#barca femeni#barca#mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen#little bit of fluff#love angst
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Kannabi bridge AU
#naruto#minato namikaze#team minato#kakashi hatake#obito uchiha#rin nohara#kushina uzumaki#Jiraiya#namikaze minato#hatake kakashi#uchiha obito#nohara rin#uzumaki kushina#a drawing I did for a zine last year 💖#a little bit of fluff between the barrage of murder-happy/creepy Minato I'm gonna dump on all of you shortly lol#throwing this too on the forgotten slice of life tag#slice of life#sol#koko draws#artists on tumblr
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*based off this awesome art right here by @chocoarts - the sketch on the left in particular :)
It doesn’t take long for Steve to get used to Eddie’s raised-by-wolves levels of affection. The hair chewing and the shoulder nibbles and the freckle licking. It’s never classified normal stuff - definitely not stuff he ever did with dainty Hawkins High girls, that’s for damn sure.
But still, it takes no time to get used to it. Full on expects it, by now. The most notable time that Steve is expecting it is on their one year anniversary.
Two months prior to the Big Day, Eddie's spontaneity and Steve's boredom led to an impulsive stick-and-poke tattoo on Steve's forearm. Eddie wanted to give Steve a simple crown. Told him it was to reclaim the stupid nickname from high school, make it his own.
'Overthrow all the teenaged bullshit. Kick trauma in the metaphorical ass.' Eddie had said after completing it, smiling up at Steve. 'It's what kings do best.'
After that day, Steve decides to add on to his impulsive tattoo and surprise Eddie with it. He gets one small bat, just like the ones on Eddie's arm. Gets it right next to the crown, side-by-side. The same way they all fought together a while back.
As soon as Eddie sees the addition, he tackles Steve, linebacker style. Steve is ready for it, totally braces for the aggressive affection. Fucking loves it. Expects it.
However, Eddie doesn't just stop there. Oh no. He climbs up Steve's body, tightly wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. Wraps his legs around Steve's upper arms even tighter.
Which... how the hell did Eddie get so flexible? And when the hell did Eddie get so flexible? Like, yeah they do some semi-contortionist stuff in the bedroom, mostly when they're hyped up on sugary soft drinks.
But this? This is... new. Wild.
He clutches on to Steve like he's a goddamn tree trunk. Some rare tree species that's in grave danger of being chopped down from the rainforest or whatever. He’s making lots of pleased sounds, singing maybe. Hard to tell for sure.
Steve holds Eddie firmly, hands underneath his thigh, his back, anywhere that he can get a solid grip. Keeps him safe from whatever corporate bulldozer that dares to take down their weirdly amazing love.
"Shit, I'm crazy about you." Eddie nuzzles into Steve's hair. "Like... totally and completely."
Steve laughs, comes out a bit strangled from the way Eddie is clinging to him. "Guessing you like it, huh?"
"Duh." Eddie slides off, connecting their hands on his way down.
"It represents-"
"I know what it represents." Eddie interrupts, his expression softens from the reminder, the difficult topic they're both skipping around. "You don't have to say it."
He does though, Steve has to say it. Needs to say it the same exact way Eddie had said it to him two months ago.
Because yeah, they act tough about what went down that night. But that doesn't mean they should just be stuck in a cycle of Acting Tough. Pretending to be okay all the damn time.
So Steve takes Eddie's arm, the one that's covered with tiny bat silhouettes. He holds their two arms together and carefully brushes over each tattoo design. Tells Eddie to reclaim the stupid scars that litter his body.
"Fight off all the inter-dimensional bullshit. Kick trauma's metaphorical ass." Steve smiles up at Eddie, who suddenly looks serious, focused. "It's what heroes do best."
"Steve." The seriousness is wiped clean off of Eddie's face. It's quickly replaced with a gentle grin. Relief reaching over his furrowed brow. No more worry lines. No more grimace. He looks at ease. Content, maybe.
And as much as Steve enjoys making Eddie feel content, he wants him happier right now. So he switches up the energy, tries to lighten the mood a little. Steve hooks his fingers into Eddie's front pockets, readying to pull him in.
It's predictable, been his go to make-out move any time they're standing up. This is a special fucking day, however, and that calls for a Special Edition Make-Out Move.
So Steve digs each hand deep into Eddie's pockets, wiggles them around a bit. Watches Eddie's cheeks go pink, blotchy red in some places. Steve moves all of the coins and lint and questionable items out of the way, making room.
He takes deep breath, then yanks the seams at the very bottom of each pocket, flipping the material inside out. Sticking straight up from his jeans.
Eddie is all red now, flushed down to his neck. "What the..."
Steve tugs on the flipped out pocket seams, jolting Eddie closer. He lands on Steve's lips, colliding a bit roughly. For a second, they're too busy smiling to kiss properly. But Steve slides his hands up Eddie's chest, around his neck, scratches the tiny hairs on the back of Eddie's head, and that's it. That's all that it takes for them to get lost in the kiss.
Eddie's mouth opens, biting the center of Steve's bottom lip. Breathes out the warmest air as he lets go, returns to a softer approach. Steve licks over the spot, soothes the pulse that Eddie left behind.
"That was... different. " Eddie laughs. He swipes his tongue over Steve's cupids bow, traces an outline until Steve is laughing too.
"Bad different?" Steve asks.
"Not at all." Eddie shakes Steve by the shoulders like he’s nuts for asking such an outrageous question. "Besides, different is right up my alley, babe."
"I'm highly aware."
"Didn't realize I was such a bad influence on your freakier side."
"What can I say?" Steve shrugs, steals one of Eddie’s rings to twirl around his finger. "I'm very easily persuaded."
They head over to the couch, kissing haphazardly as they flop down. Eddie tugs and twists at the fabric of Steve’s shirt, stretching it out. Wrinkling it. Steve couldn’t care less if it gets ruined because Eddie will be the one ruining it.
Eddie sighs into the kiss. Not a sexy sigh either (which are obviously Steve’s favorite of the sighing variety). It sounds more shocked. Disbelief or something.
Steve angles his head away from the kiss to see that Eddie’s eyes are open, wandering all over Steve’s face. It’s pretty cute, seeing Eddie too busy just staring to even shut his eyes mid-kiss. Like his schedule is too jam-packed up with Gawking, has to multitask during their make out sessions now.
"Kinda can’t believe it." Eddie finally says, still staring.
"What?" Steve stares backs. Makes it a staring contest. Doesn't tell Eddie though cause he wants to win.
Eddie motions toward his pockets that are still turned inside out. "After one whole year, you still keep me on my toes with shit like that."
"I do?"
"Sure do. You're something else, babe.”
"I am?" Steve blinks.
Damnit, he lost the one-sided staring contest.
“Yup.” Eddie nods, transitions to chewing on a chunk of Steve’s hair like he always does. Sometimes, he’ll make mooing sounds. Especially after sex, when he’s at his goofiest. Most comfortable.
It’s fucking unreal how Steve has learned all of these quirks. How he waits for them, anticipates them. Every bit feels familiar to him now.
"You're unexpected in all the best ways, Harrington."
Steve tries not to gush at that compliment. It's not one he gets often.
Eddie stops chewing on Steve’s hair to kiss his cheek instead. The kiss is powdery-sweet, miles away from his usual eagerness. Still perfect somehow. Just like the weird stuff is somehow perfect too.
That's kind of who they are together. Weird and unexpected.
In all the best ways.
#steddie#steddie fic#bit of fluff to sweeten the weekend#just wanted to celebrate their 2k follower milestone with this little ficlet#so congrats!! 🎉#thank you for creating lovely art for this fandom!#I’m sorry I can’t draw nice things to show my gratitude#so I hope these words will be sufficient instead :)#and if you hate them then just pretend this never happened lol
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cw// cancer mentioned, no character death
Eddie's moving to Chicago with his boyfriend and their best friend.
Eddie's moving to Chicago and it feels like everything is finally coming together.
Eddie's moving to Chicago, Steve Harrington is his boyfriend, and his life is starting.
Eddie's moving to Chicago, but then Wayne gets sick.
He tells Steve that he can't leave, not yet, needs to take care of his uncle.
And Steve, his Steve, perfect Steve, says with no hesitation, "I'll stay. Eddie, I'll stay with you. We'll go in six months. Together, that's the plan."
But Eddie can't let Steve do that; Steve who is everything bright and good and right in the world. Steve needs to get out, even if Eddie can't.
He insists Steve go, insists so hard that Steve can only agree, though Eddie can tell it's killing him.
Before they leave, Steve and Eddie cling to each other.
"Six months, baby. Just six months and then I'll be with you."
"I'll stay, Eds. Let me stay for you?"
"Not in a million years. What's six months in a lifetime together?"
"You mean that?" Steve whispers, the words tickling against Eddie's neck.
"Of course, sweetheart. Never meant anything more in my life."
They cling harder, crying against each other, despite it being goodbye for now and not forever.
They haven't said "I love you" yet, and the words hang on his tongue as the embrace ends, but he can't say it now; not when six months of time and 200-plus miles will separate them.
Except Wayne isn't better in six months. He's not worse, but the cancer's still there, he's still sick. And Eddie can't leave.
Eddie figured something like this would happen. Knew in the back of his mind that Steve and Robin and Chicago were never anything but a pipe dream.
When he calls Steve, he thinks he's ready.
"Okay, so Hopper's letting us borrow his truck, but he needs to know our timeline. You think next Saturday--"
"Steve." He says. His stomach clenches.
"What's wrong?" Because Steve knows, like he always does.
"Wayne's not better."
Steve is silent for a beat. "Okay...that's okay. I'll come back. Right now. Tonight. We'll do this tog--"
"You know I can't let you do that."
"Eddie--"
"No, Steve, don't. Okay? Let's just. It's time, you know?"
"It's not. Eddie, it isn't. Don't do this. Please, please," Steve cries.
"It's for the best. I know you can't see it now, but it is. You need to live your life, Stevie. Get that degree. Be someone."
"Eddie," Steve sobs. "Please. You have to know that I lo--"
"Don't," Eddie snarls. Doesn't mean to but can't hear those words, the three that will break him in two. "This is for the best, Steve. A clean break, yeah?"
"No." And Eddie hears Steve shuffling on the other end, like he's getting up. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm coming back, and we're doing this together. A lifetime, remember?"
Eddie's crying now, can't help it. "Please, don't. Steve, just--it's over, okay? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this anymore."
He hangs up the phone before Steve can argue, cries himself to sleep.
5 Years Later
Eddie never gets over Steve Harrington. His golden boy, the brave, perfect, kind, bratty man who has his whole heart.
Wayne is okay. Will never not have cancer, but he's doing good. And Eddie runs a record store in the town over. Visits some bars in Indy when he feels a certain kind of lonely. He's settled, finally, is the thing. He's settled and happy enough, so of course, that's when it happens.
He's at the grocery store, stopped in produce. There's a little girl, maybe 3 or 4--bright pink shirt, chestnut hair, little overalls--sitting in a cart by the tomatoes.
The sight of her sparks something in Eddie's chest, but he doesn't understand what or why, and then she's pointing at him, smiling and wiggling. "Daddy!" She shrieks.
That's when Steve Harrington swoops around the corner, reaching for the girl, his daughter, and Eddie takes a step away, ready to run from this.
The girls says, "That's the boy in all your pictures." She giggles and points at Eddie more. Steve blushes, and Eddie's assaulted by so many things all at once he thinks he may pass out.
"Stevie," he hears himself saying.
Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, so much knowing in those hazel eyes it makes him a little sick. But it still surprises him when Steve pulls him into a hug. Being in those arms again, It's like everything keeping him together falls apart. He sinks into the hold, breathes in deep, feels like home.
It shouldn't, though. Steve's got a kid. Probably a wife. Can't have his ex-boyfriend falling apart in his arms in the grocery store. Eddie disengages, steps back a little. Steve blinks, eyelashes fluttering, and Eddie is still so in love with him it hurts.
"I should--I should go," he mumbles, gripping at the back of his neck like it's a lifeline. The little girl giggles more, bouncing in her seat, and he's overcome with fondness. Can't help but give her an exaggerated bow as he goes.
He makes himself walk to the end of the aisle, but once he's left Steve behind, he runs.
That night, when a knock comes at his door, nothing prepares him for a sheepish Steve Harrington standing on the other side.
"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Steve says, manners still impeccable. "Wayne gave me your address. I'm glad--I'm glad he's doing okay, Eddie."
Eddie's too astonished to respond, nods for a few seconds before, "Th-thanks. Uhh, you wanna come in?"
Steve does and then they're in Eddie's little living room together and what the fuck is he supposed to do?
"Where's the kid?" he asks. He gestures Steve to the couch.
Steve smiles, a soft thing that's a knife to Eddie's heart. "Oh, I left her with Robin. They'll be fine for a few hours. Her name's Ellie, by the way. Ellie Jane Harrington."
"She knows who I am?" Eddie asks.
"Course. I told her about everyone. Showed her pictures. I hoped she could meet you one day."
"Yeah?" Eddie can't stand the thing that unfurls in his chest, blooming with love, so much care it aches in his teeth. "I swear next time I won't run away."
Steve laughs, hazel eyes fond in a way that Eddie can't look at for too long. "You didn't run away, Eds. It was a weird--reunion."
Eddie chuckles, pulls hair over his face. "A little bit. Not every day you run into your ex and his daughter scoping out tomatoes."
"I was hoping to give you a call, ask you out to dinner, or something. Not my kid recognizing you at Bradley's Big Buy."
"You wanna take me out to dinner, Stevie?" He asks before he can think better of it. Steve blushes red, and god Eddie missed him.
"Thought it might be nice, yeah. Get to know each other again."
It's Eddie turn to blush. "Why are you here?" He asks, good of a segue as any.
"Here, like, in your apartment, or here in Hawkins?"
"Both."
"I'm--uh--the new counselor at Hawkins High. Might coach the basketball team."
"But--Chicago," is all Eddie can say.
Steve laughs. "It was fun for a while, but--I don't know, man, it got hard with a kid. Joyce told me about the job opening and I decided to try."
"And Ellie's mom?" Eddie doesn't want to ask, can't stand not knowing.
Steve's eyes fall. "Ah," his hands squeeze into fists. "She's not in the picture. Never really was. After--" he takes a deep breath. "After we broke up, I sort of. Lost myself for awhile. Slept around. One night, I got this call saying that a baby had been surrendered at a fire station, my name listed as the father."
"Oh, sweetheart. I bet you didn't hesitate."
Steve stares at his hands, smiles. "Not for a second. I cried when I saw her, Eds. Just fucking sobbed. She was so beautiful. Then I had to figure out how to raise a kid and finish school."
"But you did it." Eddie can't hide that he's crying anymore.
Steve nods, is crying too.
"I'm really proud of you, sweetheart," Eddie whispers.
They look at each other, tear stained and sad but somehow so happy, and Steve leans forward, presses his mouth to Eddie's. He freezes, shocked to stillness, overwhelmed with the thing he never thought he'd have again.
Steve pulls back, face red and eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I got it in my head--" he stands, fumbling for his keys. "I should have never--you told me we were done and I know you meant it. But I saw you in the grocery store and I thought, you know, I'm never getting over him. I'm so stup--"
"Steve, wait" Eddie snaps out of it all at once, hurrying to where the man he's never stopped loving is shoving his feet inexpertly into his shoes.
"Don't leave," he says, almost whispering. "Please don't leave. Steve, I'm so, so sorry for how I ended things. I was so young and stupid, and--I didn't want you to lose your dreams for me."
Steve turns then, tears trickling down his cheeks. "You were my dream, Eds. You still are. I should have come back, made you let me stay. But I thought--maybe your feelings had changed. That you didn't--that you weren't--"
Eddie can't help it, pulls Steve into his arms. "I was. I am. You're all I've ever wanted." He presses his face to Steve's hair, breathes in deep. "I loved you then. I love you now. I've loved you every day in between."
"I love you," Steve sobs. "I love you so much."
They kiss, lips slotting together like they never stopped. It's salty with tears, but it's perfect. It's them.
Their mouths part, but they stay in each other's orbit; need the proximity after years apart.
"I have a kid now, Eddie," Steve says into the silence between them.
"Yeah," Eddie nods. "She's beautiful. Looks like her dad."
Steve smiles, flushes again. "She needs stability in her life, you know? She's my priority. Always will be. And if I--if this--"
Eddie knows. Understands his boy just as well now as he did back then. "We'll take it as slow as you need, baby. I want to be there for both of you. When you're ready. And until then, I'll be wherever you need me."
More tears escape Steve's eyes, but Eddie brushes them away. "We have a lifetime to figure it out."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#oneshot#break up#second chance at love#reconnection#mutual pining#angst#angst with a happy ending#girl dad steve harrington#steve harrington has a kid#good nephew eddie munson#wayne has cancer#getting back together#eventually ellie calls eddie daddy and everyone cries#soft#a little bit of fluff amongst the heartache
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yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always.
#atp i need to shut and write the omega verse fics that consistency plague my mind#but while im here time for my obligatory megumi mention bc i mentioned dogs teehee#yes megumi attack dog hes megumi grumbly yes megumi bark bark bite bite BUT BUT BUTTTT#megumi is also used to like... hm........ taming? having? caring for? people in his life and also literal (divine) dogs#so for him yes he bites and barks#but he also... he gets confused if YOU dont follow him around like a puppy bc everyone else in his life has so why not you?#gojo's always been the annoying yapping pomeranian chewing on his arm even if he didn't ask#always in megumi's space even tho he didn't ask but he learned to deal with it#won't admit it but knows that too much attention is better than having someone who couldn't give a shit about you#yuuji is the golden in everybody's life and megumi is no exception#unmovable unshakeable and incredibly addictive even if he doesn't mean to be#and very very attached to the people he cares about so yeah yuuji is loud and annoying but he's also loyal and megumi respects that so fine#nobara is like... she decided she liked megumi and was upset about it so she bit his ankle and he tried to kick her off but she has too muc#pride to get shaken off by someone as scrawny as megumi and somewhere along the way megumi became impressed that she was still there even i#it hurt a bit and she was a little rough it's not like he was worse so fine whatever she can stay too#so if you like... if you dont hover around megumi if you dont pry if you dont prod then he has to be the dog smh#now he's gotta bite for your attention and nudge you and how annoying. he's gonna keep doing it tho. as long as he has to#or until you learn to fall in line and accept your leash too whichever comes first n e way.... anyway.............#somebody's pampered omega always gets what he wants megumi complex is showing......#this was about yuuta right? ok i'll put his tags now....#juju#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader
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Can I reach out my hand and touch the orb next to me?
#critical role#criticalroleedit#imodna#imogen temult#laudna#laudna cr#gifs#*#*cr#cr3#cr spoilers#ship: imodna#fluff tag#1k#scheduled#2h16m c3e46#god. the most endeared/endearing thing ever.#i am so glad imogen finally got to have laudna in a dream with her#and the way laudna effortlessly finds that balance between like#diffusing tension by being a little bit silly a little bit childish when they first start#but also being serious a little bit later; helping imogen put the pieces together
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SUNA + THE FIRST TIME HE SAYS I LOVE YOU
send in a character + trope for a blurb
...
you should've been asleep. you're always asleep before him, so why would this time be any different?
suna knows the drill like the back of his hand by now. you fight off your inevitable slumber as hard as you can, trying to stay awake for no good reason until you eventually ignore his annoyances and succumb to sleep.
tonight shouldn’t have been any different.
"hey," a finger prods against your cheek, testing the waters.
when a groan bubbles from your throat but your eyes remain closed, suna knows you’re at the ‘barely hanging on to consciousness’ stage of your sleep schedule. he uses a hand to gently squeeze your cheeks together.
“stop.”
it comes out slightly muffled by your squished lips. he huffs a laugh through his nose, “what?"
you groan into the pillow, escaping his loose grasp.
"go to sleep," he whispers, and though you can’t see him, you can practically hear the menacing grin on his face through his tease.
if your eyes were open, you’d roll them. "i’m trying to."
and it’s routine, comforting to the two of you. suna waits there in the dark, like he always does, until your breathing evens out and replicates the deep inhales of when he knows you’re out for good.
he brings his finger back up to your face, but this time, instead of poking your cheek with the incentive of aggravating you, he runs it softly across your cheekbone and then down your jawline with purpose. he’s sure to notice how your eyelids don’t flicker at the sudden touch, how your breathing never hitches with his lingering fingers.
you’re asleep by his side. and just like that, vulnerability oozes from suna’s core.
so he mans up in the most pathetic way possible and presses a kiss to your head. between the space of skin and lips comes a muffled whisper that he’s been dying to say for ages now, but hasn’t quite found the courage to say clearly.
"i love you."
it’s quiet for a moment, not a sound filling the room beside the air conditioner rattling in the window. and while suna plans to continue caressing your face, he freezes when he feels the smile growing beneath his fingertips.
you open a single eye groggily, voice raspy when you perk up with a teasing, "what'd you say?"
"nothing," he responds quickly, trying his best to defuse the situation while simultaneously not making a big deal out of it. "you're hallucinating, go back to sleep."
"i was sleeping,” you continue to press, “but i heard something weird."
suna grimaces at your choice of vocabulary before grounding himself in your light tone. you’re not angry or upset, at least not enough for him to hear it in your voice. so he slowly eases himself back onto his pillow.
"if you heard something, which you definitely didn't," he enunciates, "i don't think it was something weird."
"well if wasn't weird, then what was it?"
through the darkness of the bedroom, he can just barely make out your hopeful eyes, and he can imagine the giddy smile on your pretty face, so he exhales and swallows his pride.
"true," he admits, before hissing out in defeat, "and fucking embarrassing."
your laughter warms the bed and suna feels like he’s floating.
"true and embarrassing," you repeat through sleepy giggles, "just how i like 'em,"
his face is flushed as it hides in his pillow. "are you done making fun of me yet?"
he hears you shuffle in closer before he feels your breath on his arm.
"i will be if you say it again now that i'm awake," you barter.
"technically you were awake the first time i said it."
"rintaro," you whine, and when he doesn't give in so easily, you elaborate. "now that you know that i'm awake."
a bit more confident in his conviction, he brings his hand up once more to find your cheek.
"i said i love you," he whispers, "like an idiot."
your laughter returns, and when you wrap your arms around his torso and press your nose in the crook of his neck, he can practically feel it warming his bones.
you place a kiss to his neck with a sigh of victory, "that's what i thought.”
a few minutes eventually pass in his hold, and suna would say you have to be asleep now, but he’s learned his lesson the hard way and isn’t one to make the same mistake twice.
and he’s glad because right before he drifts off himself, he feels your head rise from his chest and a gentle kiss placed on his chapped lips.
"i love you, too,” you press into his mouth like a secret, “idiot."
#using this little request game as a writing exercise#not everything needs to be edited and perfect! i can also do short and sweet!#she tries to tell herself#this is still a bit too long for my goal blurb length#but fuck it we ball#cass u really did me in with this one i hate him#suna x you#suna x reader#suna blurb#suna fluff#suna rintaro x you#suna rintaro x reader#suna haikyuu#hq suna rintaro
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