#fluff maybe?

[animasola86]

A Filthy Fantasy: Aftercare

Notes: This ties into what happened in A Filthy Fantasy (Part 1 and Part 2) and deals with the repercussions of it. I had intended this to be a reader-revenge-piece, but, uh, something else came out. Please enjoy my probably deepest dive into the personality of Sebastian “I didn't mean it” Sallow.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Hurt, Comfort, Angst, Fluff, mentions of Smut

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of sexual assault, red flags all around

Word count: 2.4k

Synopsis: Two messed up people. One who manipulates and then apologises, manipulating some more, and a willing victim who blames herself and can't stay mad for long. So many red flags. And still, it's a love story. A very messed up love story.

-- can be read on AO3 too --

A Filthy Fantasy: Aftercare

(For context if you don't want to the read the smut that is A Filthy Fantasy: Sebastian and reader agreed to do a rape fantasy scene (consensual non-consent) and that is kinda what happened when reader found herself being forced to things she didn't initially agree to or wasn't comfortable doing.)

Rolling onto your side once again because you just couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep in, you let out a groan and inhaled sharply when yet another jolt of pain rushed through your aching limbs.

“Are you sure you don't want to go to the Hospital Wing?” you heard a concerned voice from the other side of the bed.

“And tell Nurse Blainey what? My boyfriend tied me to a table and fucked me a little too hard?” you grunted quietly, your voice hoarse and strained because, of course, even your throat hurt. Everything hurt. “No, I'm sure the potion will work any second now...”

You had told yourself that for the last half an hour since you drank that awful concoction he had given you. Exhaling loudly, you rolled back onto your stomach. Everything hurt a little less like this, perhaps because your body remembered the position you were in when you had received all of these aches. Quite ironic.

Next to you, the mattress dented slightly and then you saw Sebastian slowly approaching you, almost tentatively, cautious, an apologetic smile on his face. He lay on his side and watched you, probably tempted to touch you, but you had told him very clearly that you needed a little time to yourself right now.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his low voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine which caused a horrible chain reaction of shudders and twitches and in the end, you were groaning and whimpering again. Swallowing hard against the pain (and by doing so only increasing the pain in your throat), you closed your eyes and wallowed in your own sorrow for a moment, trying to ignore the boy next to you. “Please let me help you...” he tried again. “I can't stand seeing you like this.”

You only scoffed and breathed loudly through your nose, before you sighed. “It's not your fault,” you fought against your own dark thoughts that tried to remind you why you were in this sorry state. “I did agree to it... well, most of it... and I could have said the safeword... but I didn't...”

He moved a little closer, but he kept his hands away – and you knew he was really fighting with himself right now. “It got a little out of hand, eh?” he whispered.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, long and hard, hoping to convey all the mixed emotions you had swirling inside your heart.

“Okay, a lot, it got completely out of hand!” he quickly rephrased and threw you a sympathetic smile. “Please know that I feel horrible about it...”

“Why?” you simply asked, watching him closely. “Why did you do it?”

He frowned and inhaled deeply, then rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I... I don't know, it just... happened. You looked so...” You saw him biting his lip. “I couldn't help myself. And that is no excuse, I know that. But... my mind was just full of... the scene we talked about.... and what we didn't talk about... and –” He sighed, then turned his head towards you again, his dark eyes wandering over your face. “I shouldn't have done that, all of it, I shouldn't even have suggested it to you!” He rolled onto his side and came even closer, genuine regret plastered all over his freckled face.

You stared at him, your eyelids fluttering slightly. His eyes were on you, those damn puppy-dog eyes, and you felt your anger and your pain and your overall discomfort dwindling. Before he could succeed in manipulating you out of your feelings once again, you closed your eyes and exhaled loudly.

You heard him shifting beside you. “Will you ever forgive me?” you heard him ask quietly. His question lingered on your mind for quite a while, long seconds, minutes that ticked by without any reaction to it, while you considered it and thought back to what had happened.

And in your pain riddled head there was one thing that kept pushing into the foreground over and over again. “It's on me,” you whispered, voicing the nagging doubt that kept you from completely distancing yourself from the boy next to you. “I could have said anything, at any point, but I didn't... I allowed you to do this, so I... I shouldn't be complaining now...”

“No!” he said firmly and now his hand was on your cheek. Your eyes flew open. “It's not on you! Absolutely not! I... I made you do that, I made you think you wanted it, if anything, it's on me, of course! Do not blame yourself! In that kind of situation... not being able to say anything against it... come on, give yourself a break! I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you... honestly, that you're still willing to talk to me after all of that,” he paused and chuckled darkly. “I do not deserve any of it... I don't deserve you...”

You gave him a strained noise of affirmation, then quickly changed your mind and groaned in disagreement. Furrowing your brows, you clenched your jaw against his subtle touch. You were quickly overwhelmed by your emotions yet again as not only your physical aches throbbed through your body, but also confusion and guilt and regret and all those things you couldn't even name. A tear dropped from your lashes as you blinked quickly and when he moved his thumb over your cheek nonchalantly, you let out a sob.

“Baby, I'm so sorry,” he whispered and when he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead, you sobbed even more. He shifted closer and stayed like this, his hand holding your cheek as you felt his warm breath on your hairline. “I didn't mean it...”

The way he said it, those exact words. You'd heard it all before. Numerous times. And you had to remind yourself: this is Sebastian, he's always been like this, running head first into trouble, getting hurt or hurting others, and then he'd apologise afterwards, bowing his head in shame for his brash actions. You knew that and despite it all, you'd fallen in love with him. Despite everything!

There was no rhyme or reason, it was all in your heart, engrained in your soul, those deep feelings you had for him, because after all, he wasn't always like that. He was caring and supportive and sweet and made you feel loved and safe and made you laugh and happy. The way he would hug you, hold you close, kiss you and... more.

What had happened was not the norm. He would never treat you like that. He'd always make sure you were comfortable and alright with what he did and you usually were. And in your haze, in your bottomless love for him, you'd agreed to something that had taken it all a little too far. You could have seen it coming, you had talked about it, he had made it perfectly clear what that scenario was about, and you still had allowed it, agreed to it.

With your aches thrumming through your body, you could see it for what it was now: you had been naïve, completely gullible, and he had indeed used that against you. And it felt as if you were both at fault here. Two stupid, horny teenagers indulging in things they thought might give them a thrill, when the reality of it was so much worse.

Inhaling sharply, you swallowed the lump in your throat, not remembering the soreness of it, and you winced deeply, only sobbing more. He leaned back then, looking at you with a grave expression. Your eyes wandered over his face and you wondered if you could ever look at him without remembering the things he had done to you. Biting your lip, you frowned and looked away, more tears spilling from your lashes.

“Okay that's it,” you then heard him say and without any warning, he suddenly turned you around and lifted you onto his arms, scrambling off the bed with you. Your mouth fell open and you stared at him, too shocked to acknowledge the pain that came from his brash action. “You are in so much pain, you need more than a healing potion,” he explained, his voice low and frantic. “I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing, I'll... I'll tell her you were... abducted and... and assaulted and...”

You gasped and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “No! No. Stop!” you exclaimed equally frantic. “You can't do that! Please, don't!” He stopped and stared at you, as if he had forgotten you were more than a body he could carry around with him for a moment. “Remember what Ominis said? We shouldn't talk about this any more, and he's right! You'll only get into trouble,” you told him quietly, your voice shaking badly. “And... and I don't want that! And I don't want the attention of.... of that, of being a... a victim, you know?” Your thumbs ran over his cheeks imploringly. “Please!” you whispered.

He frowned deeply, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darker than usual. “But... but you need help... and I... I have to help you!” he urged, sounding so utterly helpless you felt almost sorry for him now.

“Lay me down, please...” you said hoarsely, trying to sound firm. “Let's just... rest... I'll be fine... I'm stronger than I look, okay?”

You watched him intently, ignoring the aching of both your body and your heart. He eventually complied and brought you back to the bed, laid you down carefully and pulled the covers over your shivering body.

You rolled onto your side, forcing yourself not to wince, and beckoned him closer. “Lay down with me,” you whispered and watched him climb into bed with you, keeping his distance, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, until you could snuggle against his chest. He put his arm around you carefully, then gently rubbed your back.

“I feel awful,” he mumbled into your hair as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I know,” you breathed back, holding down a Me too!, because somehow this was about comforting him now.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you repeated, falling back into that same old pattern of forgiving him yet again. It was what it was. That was the dynamic of your relationship. You would only see it for what it was in moments like these, where your physical pain was bigger than your emotional pain. And that clarity scared you more than you wanted to admit.

You loved him, with every fibre of your hurting body, as you had told him, and it was indeed scary how much you were willing to do and take because he had asked you to. But it was such a rewarding kind of love and you felt almost ashamed admitting to it: but whatever he would do to you, force you to do, you knew that he would be there for you afterwards, he'd care for you, cradle you in his arms, make sure you'd be alright, no matter the consequences.

It was a very twisted way of seeing things, you knew that, but you were both messed up people, you had your baggage and he had his and you shared so much of it also. It hadn't been easy these last years, but in being together and there for each other, you had pushed through and it had only brought you closer.

You took a shuddering breath and leaned back slowly, fighting the urge to wince at your aches, before you looked up at him. His eyes were immediately on you, as if he had been waiting for it. You raised a hand and gently touched his cheek, trailing your fingers over his temple, ignoring the shaking of your digits. He kept rubbing soothing circles on your back and just watched you.

“Tell me you love me,” you then whispered barely audible.

His eyebrows moved slightly upwards. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I love you more than anything in this world... and I –”

You put a finger to his lips and shushed him, knowing what he wanted to say. “I love you too,” you said instead and leaned a little closer, your nose nuzzling against his. “And whatever happened earlier, we will never talk about it again, okay?”

He stared at you. You knew he wanted to protest, but you knew better. This was how you dealt with these things: you never acknowledged them again. That was why you never talked about his uncle's death ever again, not directly at least. You comforted him, were there for him, supported him in his struggles to deal with it, but you never talked about it. And you would never talk about this either. You couldn't. Because admitting to the things that he was capable of only scared you more. And you wanted to love and cherish him and not be afraid of him.

And so you pressed your lips to his and kissed him softly, closing your eyes as you leaned into what mattered most to you at that moment: the comfort of his warm body, his engaging mouth, his soothing touches, him just being there. He kissed you back hesitantly, pulling you a little closer, just holding you.

“Okay,” he whispered against your lips. “But I'm –”

You shushed him once again. “No, it's fine,” you breathed against him, opening your eyes to look at him. “We are fine. Everything is fine.”

He pulled his eyebrows together slightly and you felt his lips trembling against yours. You didn't know if he was as keen in forgetting this as you, but like all those times before, he just followed your lead, he ignored it with you. And just like that you realized that you were just as good at manipulating him as he was at manipulating you.

Be it as it were, you were made for each other. Two messed up souls, desperately trying to hold onto the other in an attempt to not drown in the ever consuming world they found themselves in. A love story made straight in hell. But you always preferred warmer climates anyway.

End notes: Be honest, dear reader, if you were in this situation: would you forgive him? Would you just move on?

To be fair, as our reader is our HL mc, they both went through so much stuff together, I just see it working out for them because of it, if they choose to ignore it like those two did here. Always easier to suppress, definitely not healthy, but easier. And Sebastian is a walking red flag anyway and we are still all here for it, so, yes, I think this is how it would go.

No matter what he did, his lover would always forgive and forget. And you can't convince me otherwise!

I still plan on writing a little revenge piece, he does deserve that too.

[ masterlist ] [ AO3 ]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fluff #fluff #fluff maybe? #hurt and comfort #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #well it deals with things after the smut #it's implied past smut

[michellen324]

You aren’t mine

Spoilers for VADD but i’m not sure it’s accurate or not

Cha Siyeon had been your friend ever since you began University. Being a naturally lonely child, you and her stuck together like glue. She was the first person who actually cared about you beyond a superficial reason.

The look in both of your eyes had been the same; a child with no one to love, no one to care for.

Maybe it was that which gravitated you two together?

Either way, this friendship was made to be. She was majoring in archeology, you majored in history. Both of you would bond of relics of the past, analyzing the craft and workmanship of the artefact. Stories would be told between you two explaining the delicate paint decorating the items.

You two truly did everything together.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned to months. When you found out she was living in a one-room basement house you immediately moved her into your apartment instead. She was a bit embarrassed, but you merely hushed her and welcomed her into your arms.

It took a while for you both to open up about your problems, but when you two did, that string that tied you both together was unbreakable.

Siyeon had frown on her face and her eyes turned cold when you told her about your lonely and neglectful childhood by the hands of your rich parents, how they constantly berated and verbally abused you in order for you to succeed.

You seethed in anger when she confessed all that happened when her father picked her up after her mother had died due to illness; how she was never comfortable at school or home.

You two were certainly birds of a feather who knew each other more than ever.

So who was this person you woke up to one day?

To you, the name of Kelvernab was an empty title. Your husband was old enough to be your father -maybe grandfather when you married him at 17 because your parents sold you off to him. Just last year your turned 18, and was expected to hold the duties of wife.

He never touched you any way, he just requires you to be a trophy wife as he showed you off as a doll to his crude friends.

Life was truly mundane to you whether it be at home or at banquets and tea parties. Arguably it was worse in high society because you had to fake a smile and laugh at the insults thrown your way from the other ladies.

The only ray of sunshine you had in your days was Penelope Eckhart, the mad dog of the Eckhart family.

You’ve seen how she had thrown fits at banquets and parties; how even the slightest of the words could turn her aflame.

And god you loved it. Every fit she threw, the words she spat, you wished you could say them yourself. Stuffed into a role you didn’t want and forced to be a silent, dull and meek housewife, you lived the way you wanted to by being beside Penelope. She spoke for you; she felt for you; she loved for you as you lived for her.

You weren’t an idiot to the way her “family” would look at her in utter disgust, or the bruises on her wrists, or even the fact that she seemed a little to thin at times, and the smallest waft of something fatty and rich was able to make her nauseous yet hungry at the same time.

Those disgusting Eckharts can’t even take care of her properly.

It was your goal to get her to stay at your estate as much as possible. While her family was reluctant you let you of all people to hang around her, the Duke noticed she did seem happier and calmer around you so he let her frequent your house.

She’d spend the night regularly, sleepovers and tea parties were a must. It was those nights where you and Penelope shared all the secrets you had.

Time passed and you two were like soulmates; you knew her like the back of your hand.

So who was this person you woke up to one day?

Two words, each with an equal. Where Cha Siyeon and Penelope Eckhart are worldly equals, [Name] [Lastname] and [Name] Kelvernab would naturally be the same.

Despite it being two vastly different worlds, the two girls both uttered the same thing when their dearest friend woke up.

Who are you? You aren’t

[Penelope] [Cha Siyeon]

You aren’t mine

Au i just thought of lmao, So yes, i know that Cha Siyeon is a “shard” of Penelope’s souls but i just though what if it’s that parallel universe thing where everyone has a parallel self so Penelope = Cha Siyeon and You = You but your title is Lady Kelvernab.

Angst lmaoo nobody ever talks about where the og person went or how they feel ✋😔

#vadd #villains are destined to die #death is the only ending for a villainess #ditoeftv #penelope eckart #manhwa #x reader #x female reader #angst #fluff maybe?

[yenerdybird]

So were back. Behold, another one of my children

Bask in its glory

Im calling this one,

My Fault

And man its full of ✨angst✨

Its more of a time divergent then a full on universe alternate, but it happens after Pogtopia so i feeeel like it can go anyyywhere.

We start on a rooftop, a wind flies by, nipping at the two people standing there.

Tommy glances at Wilbur, but the man still doesn't look at him. Eyes and ears on Tubbo and Tommy doesnt know what to think of it. He knows what Wil is waiting for but he wouldnt really blow up L'manburg, right? This is WIL we're talking about! This is the man who founded the damn place! This was his home! This was Tommy's home...

"... Let the festival begin!"

Wilbur ran off, needing no prodding, and Tommy almost ran after him but Tubbos voice raises above the wind and Tommy looks back. His breathing stops as his best friend is being pushed against the lectern. Tommy turns back to Wil expecting him by his side. Instead, he finds him climbing over the crest of the hill. Trying to find the stupid button and Tommy surprised himself by not feeling disappointed.

Maybe...

Maybe he already knew Wil wasnt the good guy anymore.

AND BAM! THATS WHERE IT STARTS

Cause u know how Tommy always was like "Wilbur wouldnt do that, hes too pogchamp! Mememe" Until like the END! So im thinking that we speed it up a bit >:D And by doing this the next series of events happen

Tommy keeps a closer eye on Wilbur, which is fantastic! Because imagine all those fluff/mostly angst convos we could haveee (Tommy sees one of Wils letters?!)

Tommy, being more focused on Wil, realizes way before that Wil isnt with them before the Wither battle. (Might hafta change around the timeline a bit because we cant not have Techno give his Thesus speech)

Now this is where it gets real

Because Tommy realizes where Wilbur must be, he goes out and finds Wilbur before Phil and tries to talk him down (✨angst✨) surprise surprise, it doesn't work. Cue Phil! Who, Tommy leaves to talk to Wil, and then goes out to warn his peeps about the bombs (maybe he hears the wither battle end and wants to go check)

BUT in order to get to them he takes a short cut over the hill. Right across the bomb field (thu he doesnt know it). He sees Tubbo and waves as he starts to run over.

"...it was never meant to be."

And the bombs go off.

There's a part where Wilbur looks over the crater and at the people on the other side. (Right after this he asks Phil to kill him.) Then he sees Tubbo stock still, follows his gaze, and then stills himself. On the edge of the crater is a body. White and red, a lot more red then there used to be. He falls to his knees.

Tommy never made it across.

SO Wil doesnt end up dying but Tommy does.

"That cant be Tommy! I couldnt have-! I wouldnt-! Why did he have to come back for me!" Wil cant breath, he cant breath. "Heh ha, so it wasnt Schlatt that killed you or Dream or even Eret. It was me. OF F@#KING COURSE IT WAS ME!"

His vison had gotten blurry and he laid his forehead on the ground, still on his knees, as his arms wrapped around his chest. Why was just breathing suddenly so hard?! His chest burned and his vision was blackening around the edges.

"its my fault."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Tommy was supposed to live, mess around with Tubbo, Live in a world without Schlatt. Tommy living out his days in peace! Like how he always talked about. That was the way it was going to go, that was the right way.

But then, when did it ever go right for Wilbur Soot?

Unbidden his eyes found the his body again. At the same moment he could hear his own voice, or maybe it was the person who said it first (either way, it was the voice of a traitor)...

"It was never meant to be."

Wil then goes into one of those classic, im letting myself go and hygene doesnt matter, what is shaving? What is a sun? Oh, you mean that bright ball in the sky that i saw last week?

People try to talk him, Phil being one of the only to get thru, it is a slow process.

The only one that got him to go outside is ✨Quackity✨, Frenemies am i right?

So Wil finally goes out, takes a good long walk, has some self-care for once when. Oh wowie zowie! What is that in the distance!

Hopefully, it's not my dead brother who died a brutal death, because of me, and has now been reincarnated as a ghost who doesn't remember anything from Pogtopia making me realize even more so how bad a person i was to you and whose mere presence would probably send my only just rising mental state down the drain, sending my self-care with it because now I'll feel like i have to overwork myself for you so that i can fulfill my need to make up for everything i put you through even though ur just his ghost and i cant help you anymore because youre dead and i cant bring you back...

...

Anyway, that's exactly who he is.

And thats my au! I feel like this can go multiple ways like maybe we bring the revive book in?

Im heading to bed, garsh i feel like an old lady, but im ready for sleeep! Good night!

#dream smp #dream smp au #Angst #Fluff maybe? #2 #Ill more into the fluff later #Leave me and my grandma habbits alone #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #my art

[yueebby]

indulge me? — gojo satoru

synopsis you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way

contents so. much. pining. (2.8k words of it!?), one bed trope, whipped!gojo, ooc gojo, completely self indulgent, a lot of cardiovascular talk, they’re first years in this!

notes first time i’ve written in AGES. sorry :3 ps this is a little snippet from a satosugu x reader series im thinking about starting. thoughts?

(edit: i wrote a part ii)

Gojo Satoru was born blessed. From birth and to death he will always be honored. It wasn't his fault that the Heavens delighted in him. So when Yaga had announced that he and you would be sharing an overnight mission to Kyushu, he nearly leapt in joy (lucky him)!

You, on the other hand, were less than thrilled to find out that you were going to be traveling alone with Gojo Satoru. For two whole days. It was a death sentence.

“Make sure to text me, so I know you're not dead.” Shoko looks between you and Gojo. Either your head will implode as a result of Gojo, or he is gonna be on the receiving end of your wrath. Shoko can’t wait to see which.

“Do take pictures, I heard the onsens there are incredible.” Suguru slyly adds. Satoru perks up at his comment. The two of them share a knowing look before Gojo speaks up.

“Wanna take a dip with me once we get there, [Name]?” He looks into your eyes, his lips are quirked upwards like he’s up to no good (which he is). “I promise I won’t take a peek!” He winks.

“Keep fantasizing, Gojo.”

“Oh I will.” He hums happily. The smile on his lips is kind of cute, you decide. Just a little.

— — — — — — — 

Kurokawa, you come to find out is a very small town in Kyushu. So when people start to go missing, the entire town falls into shambles. Before your trip, Yaga had made it known the enemy you’d be facing. 

“A common denominator of the missing persons is that they were all young women.” He had warned you and Gojo. “It’s an unidentified curse, but I trust that the two of you will be able to handle it.”

Three missing girls. All under the age of 25. Two of which were locals, one being a tourist. 

The moment you arrive on the island of Kyushu, your guard is higher than ever. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Gojo.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some horny curse,” He looks down at you as the two of you make your way down a small street to your ryokan. Kurokawa was a traditional town, its pride resting on the old culture causing it to be untouched by modern architecture.

Unamused by his nonchalant attitude, you decide to ignore his vulgar comment, “What grade curse do you think we’re up against?”

He makes a noise to show that he’s thinking. “Does it really matter? It’ll be no match for me either way.”

You roll your eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, we still have to figure out what happened to the victims.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary, but okay.” Your snow haired peer dismisses. It makes you a bit envious that he doesn’t have to ever feel fear for his life. Must be nice.

The two of you arrived at your designated ryokan soon enough, it was a small town after all. Gojo leads the way with you following right after. You can’t discern any cursed energy in the building, but you still make a mental note to ask Gojo about it after you both are situated. 

An elderly lady in an orange kimono stood behind the desk, smiling at you and you returned it back happily.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young couple here.” She says. That’s right, with the recent disappearance of young girls, there would be a sudden decrease of tourism around this part of town. “You certainly are a beautiful match!”

You gratefully accept her compliment, “Thank you, but we’re not–”

“Thanks granny!” Gojo wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know how I even managed to win her over!” There’s a wide grin on his face that makes your eye twitch. Leave it to him to tell people the two of you were together. Not only that but he totally disrespected the old lady with his informal talk!

“Unhand me, you!” You forcefully whisper at him, while trying to unwrap yourself from his hold. His arm does not budge even as you try to push it off. What the hell is this boy eating? Gojo chuckles with the old lady while you struggle.

“My, the two of you remind me so much of my husband and I in the days of our youth,” She sighs dreamily. Her age must be interfering with her memory because there was nothing inherently romantic going on between you and Gojo. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Only one night,” Gojo decides that he has tormented you enough and lets you go. He slides her his card and she pulls out something from the old wooden counter she stands behind. 

A single key.

Your eyes bug out. Gojo’s eyebrows raise. You laugh nervously, face feeling warmer than it was thirty seconds ago.

“There must have been a misunderstanding. We need two rooms, ma’am.” You hold up two fingers to emphasize your point. 

The smile on the old woman’s face falls, “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Your jaw drops.

“Huh? Why not?” You press on further. Surely they could not have been booked out of all of their rooms. Tourism is at an all time low after the strange disappearances.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the strange disappearances in the area. It’s a miracle the two of you have even decided to stay here, which I am very grateful for. That is why I must repay you back by ensuring your safety. Otherwise I must ask you to leave and stay in the next town because I will not allow you to endanger yourself so carelessly.” 

You blink. Neighboring town? That was hours away. The curse was here in Kurokawa. You can’t afford to jeopardize a mission just because of your own feelings.

Gojo’s hand is halfway to the key, but he waits for your approval. You sigh.

“It’s fine, we can do one. Thank you.” You bow your head. She smiled apologetically as she handed Gojo the key. Gojo, unbothered by the revelation, whistles happily as the lady leads the way to your suite.

— — — — — — — 

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

Gojosatowu added getosugu, shoko.ieiri

Gojosatowu You wont believe it!!! shoko.ieiri What the hell is this gc And what the hell is Operation satoru x [name]?  getosugu  how come [name] isn’t in this? Gojosatowu Ladies, ladies, one question at a time please getosugu  Expect a forehead flick for that comment shoko.ieiri  Stfu and just answer the questions Gojosatowu alright alright [name] and i are sharing a room in kyushu!! i may come out of this mission a changed man. shoko.ieiri  someone make sure [name] is still alive and well Gojosatowu I dont appreciate your lack of faith in me >:( shoko.ieiri  Keep a six feet distance from her at all times perv Gojosatowu I might have to for my own sanity. What do you think she wears to bed? shoko.ieiri  You disgust me sometimes getosugu  Only sometimes? shoko.ieiri  Let me correct myself. You disgust me. Gojosatowu Im feeling the love :(

“What are you giggling to yourself about?” You place a hand on your hips as you watch Gojo smile at his flip phone.

“Oh don’t you worry about it,” He closes it. Weird. “What’s the living situation?”

You sigh. “Despite its traditional arrangement, there is a bed.”

Gojo perks up. “Yeesh I’m glad! If I had to sleep on the floor my back would be all sore right on a mission. Y'know how annoying that is?”

You suck your teeth. “Allow me to rephrase myself. There is only one bed.” 

There is an awful silence in the room, save for your erratically beating heart. Of course the old woman decided to place you in a couple’s suite.  

“Heh.” Gojo chortles happily. “Wow, this must be a divine sign from God Himself. I mean, who are we to ignore this?”

“Don’t start,” You hold out an accusatory finger at him. “I’m gonna go request an extra futon.”

He pouts, “Don’t be like that, sharing a bed with me can’t be that bad.”

“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” You walk past him. The white haired boy watches you go like a sad puppy.

— — — — — — — 

You took your time getting an extra futon, using it as an excuse to get all of the nervousness out of your system of sharing the same room as Gojo Satoru. Sharing a room with a boy was already bad enough, but Gojo? Your heart skipped a beat (out of nervousness, you insist!).

By the time you make it back to the room, the lights are out. You assume that Gojo decided to go to sleep early. You don’t blame him. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day of hunting for the curse rampaging Kurokawa. 

The only light source in the room is coming from the bathroom. You sigh. The idiot must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Nonetheless, you were gonna go get unready either way so you make your way to the half open door.

On the sink is a complimentary toothbrush that you help yourself to. You apply some paste and–

There is a sound of something sliding shut from behind you. You look up at the mirror. Standing behind you was Gojo. Wet. And naked. 

“Oh my gosh!” You spit out your toothpaste and ran out of the room. How did you fail to see that Gojo was in the restroom? You blame it on the sliding doors separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom. Oh my gosh. Your face feels like it’s on fire. He has a six pack. And why does his stupid hair look like that when it's wet? Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. This is so inappropriate.

Shortly after your freakout, Gojo steps out of the bathroom. There was no way you could face him now.

“Aw, don't be so shy now. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see me like this.” Gojo stands in the doorway. There is a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving him indecent in your eyes.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating Gojo! And lock the door when you’re in the restroom you creep!” You look anywhere but him.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault, was it? You were taking so long I thought you left me here alone.” You can practically hear him pouting. “Either way, you were the one checking me out.”

Your eyes widen, “I was not checking you out! Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t feel ashamed, this can all be yours,” He gestures down to his body.

“You freak.” you blanch.

He winks at you.

This was going to be a long night.

— — — — — — — 

It takes you about half an hour to calm down from the bathroom catastrophe. By now, you’re situated in your futon while Gojo is tucked on the bed. If you had to guess, it’d be nearing midnight around now. You just need to close your eyes and get some sleep before your mission tomorrow.

Except you can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, your mind betrays you and an image of Gojo post shower illustrates itself in your mind. And it doesn’t help that he sleeps shirtless. You seriously need your mind cleansed.

That wasn’t your only issue. The room was sub zero. Who knew traditional ryokans had such advanced air conditioning systems? All you could hear was the air conditioning machine overworking itself. You could even argue that it was colder than Shoko’s morgue. And your sleep shirt and shorts were doing little to help insulate you. 

“Wanna come cuddle with me?” The last person you wanted to hear from breaks the silence. You pretend to be asleep. “I know you’re not asleep! My six eyes tell me that you’re shivering.” Busted.

“I am not cuddling with you.” You stare at the ceiling above you, arms crossed. How could he even propose such an idea? Has he no shame?

“Well I can’t face the old granny here if my girlfriend ends up dead by freezing!”

“I am not your girlfriend, Gojo. Nor will I die.”

“That’s not what she thinks. Plus we have a mission tomorrow, so I can’t have you getting sick on me now.”

“I’ll be fine, Gojo. Now go to sleep.”

“I run hot when I sleep, y’know. Let me be your personal heater.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning.

“I refuse.”

“Well I refuse your refusal.”

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Now c'mon,” He pats the spot next to him. “I’ll even make a wall in between us.”

You hear the bedsheets shuffle and you have to sit up to see that Gojo was stacking two pillows in the middle of the bed to prove his point. You’re nearly certain that the only thing you’ll be catching soon is a headache if you keep up with his antics. It was a tempting offer, one that you would surely accept if it wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, I—”

“...Please?” His voice is softer than you have ever heard it. It was unfair how Gojo was making it harder and harder to reject his offer.

A silent moment passes by.

“...Fine,” You reluctantly get up from your pathetic excuse of a futon. “But no funny business!” You warn him. 

You see Gojo perk up from the bed. He looks at you with expectant eyes, “You got it!” He gives you a thumbs up. 

Whatever. If Gojo knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t try anything. You take in a deep breath before turning to face the opposite direction of where Gojo laid. 

“Good night [Name],” You hear Gojo whisper. You sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight Gojo.”

Eyes closed, you pray a silent prayer that everything will be fine for the remainder of the mission.

— — — — — — — 

Ever since Gojo was young, his body has been used to getting little amounts of sleep. Unsurprisingly, that caused him to have a natural alarm. It was always annoying whenever he woke up at the crack of dawn on a day when he didn't need to, but luckily for him, today it proved to be a blessing. There was an unfamiliar warmth radiating onto his body. Satoru opens his eyes.

He thinks he feels all of his six eyes widen when he feels himself wrapped around another body.

There you were, in all your beauty, lying fast asleep. In his embrace. Soft snores were escaping your mouth and there were stray hairs in your face. Did he mention how beautiful you looked sleeping? He might have to ask Shoko about heart disease because of how fast his heart was beating.

Unfortunately for him, you also seemed to be drifting away from dreamland and back to reality. Your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow. Gojo takes this to his advantage and does the worst thing he can think of; pretend to be asleep.

When you wake up, your mind is still hazy from the good night’s rest you had gotten, but not hazy enough to realize that your body was tangled with another’s. And you’re pretty sure the pillow you had been laying on last night was not this hard. You try to delude yourself into believing that this is all a dream, but the effects of your sleep were fading.

It takes all the strength in you to summon the courage to open your eyes. To your horror, you were firmly wrapped in Gojo’s arms and your legs were intertwined.

“What the hell?” You pull yourself away from him. On the floor below the bed laid the two pillows that Gojo had set up as a makeshift wall. You stare at them utter shock.

“No, don’t go, I’ll freeze to death,” Gojo whines, miraculously waking up. You glare at him.

“Explain to me what just happened or I swear Gojo, I’m going to–” You try to threaten him, but you can’t seem to formulate anything.

Unlike you, Gojo looked unbothered by the sudden turn of events. He even looked pleased. There was a lopsided smile on his face as he sighed, “What can I say, I guess you subconsciously want me after all.” 

"I do not—"

“But if I had to guess, I’d say the room got too cold and we most likely cuddled for warmth unconsciously.” He shrugs it off like it was no big deal. You note that his hair is tousled from the night before.

You leave the warm bed you and Gojo had made. His theory was probably true, meaning it was neither of your faults. You purse your lips.

“I suppose that makes sense. I apologize for overreacting, I guess I was under the impression that we had done something lewd last night.” With that comment, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up both your mind and body.

You don’t end up seeing how red Gojo’s face got. It was foreign to feel all the blood rising to his cheeks. He takes one of his hands to slap it over his eyes before chuckling to himself. Yeah, he definitely knows why he likes you. 

All of a sudden Gojo feels like he’s on top of the world. For you, it was just a moment of weakness.

┊⋆｡˚. ੈ ┊

Extra notes:

gojo wished he and you got to go to the onsen together. 

gojo also regretted not taking a photo of you sleeping soundly in his arms. it would’ve been his new wallpaper. 

for the remainder of the trip, gojo was at an all time high, successfully locating and exorcising the curse in less than an hour.

#i’d like to think they had a meet ugly that made him fall head over heels for [name] #[name] also believes her sole purpose on this earth is to humble him hehe #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kt.writes.·:*¨༺ #i feel like i didnt make gojo mean enough. maybe next time #remember spring days!au

[isjasz]

[Day 96]

Together they become GUY!!

(Context: On the stream yesterday they were joking about just combining into one player for decked out LOL)

(And Hermittober: Day 1 Frost ❄️)

#dddaily4sherin #hermittober #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #isdoodles #hermitblr #hermitcraft #speedran this right after i finished reviewing for test HELASKJAJ #I wanted to draw tango epic dungeon master too but no time #had a cool composition idea too rip </3 #maybe later on i can just do trad doodles for both hermits that fit the prompt and desertduo so we get both #or i just go insane and draw two whole digital pieces in one day who knows LMAO #if i have the time #but i really want to draw a bit of hermits and friends other than desertduo for the duration of hermittober too :D #also you guys should be happy i couldve drawn the dl snow bucket event instead but i decided against it and offer fluff thumbs up

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

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.

[spamgyu]

SVT HHU - Orange Peel Theory // Drabble

orange peel theory is making it's rounds on local tiktok and twitter. this is my humorous take on how the HIP HOP UNIT discuss/deal with the orange peel theory with their significant others.

[vu] [pu]

SEUNGCHEOL

"would you peel this for me?" she placed a tangerine on his desk – not caring if he was in the middle of playing his video games.

without having to ask twice, seungcheol hid his character behind a container, away from his opponents shots and reached for the fruit. "cover me, wonwoo." he mumbled into the mic, peeling the citrus with ease. "just one?"

y/n smiled as he handed the fruit back to her. "just one."

"that's so small. get another." seungcheol nodded over to the kitchen.

"no this is fine." she shook her head, happy with the results.

he probably thought she was hungry, and considering dinner was hours away, seungcheol knew it would not be enough to hold her off.

standing from his seat, he made his way to the bag of cuties they had purchased at the store – peeling two more.

"that's enough." she laughed, stopping him from peeling a third one.

WONWOO

"baby?"

"hm?" he responded from the other side of the couch, preoccupied with his mobile game.

"would you peel an orange for me?"

wonwoo glanced up, looking behind her to see an empty counter top – a place where they usually kept their fruits.

locking his phone, wonwoo bounded for the door – leaving his girlfriend confused. "where are you going?"

"getting oranges." he replied, as if it was the most obvious response – grabbing his keys off of the hook.

"wait–" y/n laughed, walking over to him. "it was hypothetical."

wonwoo's head tilted to the side, puzzled by the point she was trying to make. "why would it be hypothetical? you asked meaning you want it. it's okay i can get–"

"baby it's a tiktok trend." she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"to ask if i would peel an orange?" he asked slowly.

"they said if you would peel an orange for your significant other, you would do any mundane task for the–"

"i need you to understand i'd peel the earth for you."

throwing her head back, she let out another laugh. she knew he was joking but his delivery had sent her over – keeping a straight face as he replied the most outlandish way possible.

MINGYU

she knew he would peel the orange for her, she didn't need to ask.

in the three years they had been together, not once had she had to open a canned drink, twist open a cap off a bottled water, plan a single date, open her own doors – hell, she hadn't had to put her own gas in her car since she began dating the king of acts of service.

he had done it without being asked.

since being with him, she had been able to turn her brain off – fulfilling her life long wish of being treated like a princess.

but she also didn't think it would be such a hot topic when she had showed him the tiktok of the orange peel theory.

"i'm not humoring this. i won't." he shook his head for the third time.

"why not?!" y/n stomped.

"fine, you want peeled oranges?" mingyu grumbled, walking over to their fruit bowl, peeling the citrus and placing it in front of her. "here."

looking at the bare fruit, y/n couldn't help but wince. not because of his actions.

but because she hated the sight of the white pith. she hated peeled oranges.

it was far too messy to eat and the texture of the white fuzz surrounding it gave her the heebie-jeebies – shuddering just at the thought of touching it.

"exactly." mingyu grabbed another orange and a knife – slicing it in quarters. "i can't peel it because you like it sliced."

she stood there dumfounded as he left the kitchen chuckling.

he won this round.

VERNON

"that's dumb." vernon snorted as his girlfriend showed him the third tiktok of someone's boyfriend failing miserably at their significant other's attempts to ask them to peel an orange for them.

"it's also kinda funny." she laughed.

"i'm one step ahead though."

furrowing her brows, she gave him a look from the other side of the couch.

"that," vernon pointed to the small potted plant resting by their window sill. "is gonna be an orange tree."

he had recently been very into assisting her with finding decorations for their new shared home, at times coming home with various plants and art works. she had gotten accustomed to his random home-good shopping sprees, she didn't dare bat an eye when he had come home with a real potted plant the other day. it would just be another addition to their countless ones that he used to brighten up their home.

"you bought an orange tree– plant?" her eyes wide. he never was the green thumb, killing the cactus she had bought for him years ago. she figured she would be the one to tend to this new plant.

"anyone can peel an orange." he shrugged. "i'll move it to the yard when it gets bigger."

"oh my god."

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @hanniebaby95 @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @alwaysalmostthere

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#let's get this straight all of svt WOULD peel the orange for their s/o #i'll make it for other units too...maybe... we'll see... hhu brainrot is so bad rn #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #seventeen fluff #spamwrites #svt hhu

[feyascorner]

Astarion is such a girl dad nobody can tell me otherwise.

Would he be a responsible parent? Maybe. It depends on which act we’re looking at. He’d give her a doll and then a pretty knife for her birthday. But gods if he doesn’t absolutely wreak havoc with a little version of himself…

You would walk in on him having a tea party with his daughter, makeup messily smeared on his face and parts of his hair tied with pink rubber bands. He looks ridiculous crouched on a tiny chair, but he takes this tea party very seriously. Your daughter does too, it seems, as they chat about some imaginary society of stuffed animals and gossip about which stuffy was rude to another.

He’d also let her play dentist on his fangs, lying on the sofa while feigning a toothache so his daughter can “treat” him with random tools around the house. If you weren’t terrified she might accidentally cut herself on how sharp his teeth are, you’d think it’s adorable.

And when I say this man dresses her, I am not over exaggerating. He teaches her early on how to do basic sewing and adjustments to her clothes, but he’s also loves to buy her little frilly bows and such that he knows she’ll like. Dresses, scarves, gloves, you name it. He loves putting on a show, so why should his own daughter walk around in dreadfully boring clothing?

On one of the occasions you join in on their tea parties, he steps out of the room for a few minutes to grab something. When he returns, your daughter is fast sleep in your lap, and you smile down softly at her. The sight makes his chest swell.

“I think she has your nose, darling,” he says as he sits down beside you.

“Has your sass, though. I caught her staring at herself in the mirror the other day too.”

He snorts and you finally lift your head to look at him. His eyes flit back and forth between you and your daughter, his features gentle. “Do you blame her? Who wouldn’t want to take after all this?”

You stifle a laugh, careful to keep from waking her. Brushing the hair out of your face, he plants his lips to your forehead while soft snores come from down at your lap.

“I fear I’ll mess up with her,” he whispers against your cheek.

You shake your head, leaning it against his shoulder. “You won’t.”

Somehow, he feels himself trusting your words. He’s always found it easy to do so when it came to you.

#is this OOC maybe #idc I need fluff #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

[nkogneatho]

imagine being childhood friends with toji. he was not allowed to go out of the house but he still did because he hates his home. do you even call it a home? he was a child but he understood pain clearly.

he was all alone, playing with shells and sands on a beach. you recognized him because your mom and other aunties in the neighborhood told you and like every other kid to stay away from him. but you approached him anyway. he was cold at first when you wanted to be friends with him, hesitant as to why would someone be nice to him. he never knew kindness growing up in that horrible household. but he is a child who found comfort in your kindness.

you both started playing often, trying to keep it a secret as he knew you'd be in trouble if your mom knew. he enjoyed finally smiling without having to force it, until one day you disappeared. he thought you finally fell into the trap of those rumors about him. but you were taken away to a new city when your parents saw you being acquainted with him. they did not want to be associated even with the shadow of any zenin.

he waited and waited on the same beach, at the same place, but you never come back. the sandcastle you built together crumbled under a big wave.

#this sounds like such a good fic idea. i'll write it if i have time maybe. i don't have a lot of toji simps here so lemme know if i should #pasi.txt #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #toji angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen

[comikadraws]

Moar baby Uchiha brothers <3

#they fell asleep on the floor #you bet your ass mikoto is taking photos #naruto #fanart #my art #sasuke uchiha #itachi uchiha #i love these two sm #idk maybe i'll draw yet another round of fluff of them #i really need to rework my art style #this rendering does not look good

[sailing-ever-west]

strawhats sleeping with no concept of personal space: a collection

#one piece #strawhat crew #one piece screencaps #one piece fluff #they're the foundest family ur honor #maybe tied with ninjago fjgjgj

[bruisedboys]

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

[ruporas]

happiness today and tomorrow (ID in alt)

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun maximum #trigun #ruporas art #hello here's another vw dump wraughh everyday i think about them being embarrassing infatuated w each other #it's like... at some point i must stop and look away... their love is too bright too dangerous.... but i will not... and neither will the #sidenote on the first comic - i drafted it bc im annoying about vash finding wolfwood lovely in simple ways but bc he's so restrained #in his thoughts those compliments dont usually come out. and when they do - bc he thinks about it so often - i think it'd come out bluntly #like. factual in tone as opposed to his inner deep exploding feelings about ww. only when he's pried deeper - prompted to expand #On these feelings does he get shy lmfao.... and bc it's simple complimentary words ww would take it casually in stride #dip him then call him cute and Maybe he'll get shy (pondering) #as u can see all i do is think about the fluff rn. tragedy where!

[theostrophywife]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

#you guys am i in love with this man? maybe #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff

[zephyrchama]

Belphegor followed you down the hall as you dragged your suitcase. It wasn’t very big, but it was still heavy and annoying to lug over the thick decorative carpets. Every time one came to an end, the luggage thudded loudly back onto the hardwood floor.

“You sure you have everything? You packed the pillow I gave you?” Belphegor sluggishly matched his pace to yours. Having long legs must be nice.

“Of course, I triple checked.” ”Good. That’s my fifth favorite pillow, so you have to come back and return it, ok?”

You nodded as the suitcase went over another bump. This was your third time going over this exact conversation.

It wasn’t just the youngest, all of the brothers were antsy about your little trip. It was written all over their faces as you arrived at the foyer where they were waiting. Satan and Asmodeus solemnly stood up from the steps they were sitting on. Mammon and Leviathan had a hard time looking at you, their eyes darted all over the walls and ceiling. Beelzebub offered to move your suitcase by the door.

Just one weekend away. That was it. Solomon volunteered to take you back to the human world for a bit. You couldn't let a rare trip home pass by, as who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You could eat some normal food for once and stock up on your favorite human things. Though, your housemates reacted like you were leaving for a year.

“Did you pack everything?” Lucifer asked.

“Of course, I triple checked.” Deja-vu.

“Even the lotion I gave you?” Asmodeus looked so worried. He loosely took hold of your forearm with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget, the sun is awful this time of year. I’ll never forgive you if you come back looking like a lobster.”

“Asmo, I won’t.” You grinned at his silly concern and leaned in for a hug. Asmodeus did not disappoint.

Everyone else took a step forward, hoping for a hug of their own, as Asmodeus breathed into your ear, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You have my number. If anything goes wrong, call me.” Lucifer sounded so reliable as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

There were half a dozen chimes of “mine, too!” and “same here!”

You’d been away for longer trips. How in the world did these guys survive for so many millennia before you met them? You turned to look at Lucifer, wanting to counter that Devildom phones didn’t even work in the human world, but he probably knew that already.

"Don't talk to strangers," he reminded, "and don't go out alone at night. Some humans are worse than demons." He wrapped his arms around you and wished “safe travels.”

Mammon stepped up next. He forced himself to stare at you, haughtily playing off the sadness he was really feeling. His bottom lip jutted out a little more than usual. “Well! You’ll bring me back a good souvenir, right?”

“Oh? I don’t know, I might not have time…” It was playful banter, yet your words shocked him. Mammon’s eyes widened. He began stammering and gripped your fingers. You quickly performed damage control, “Joking! I’m joking, Mammon. Of course I’ll get you a souvenir.”

The younger siblings piped up, “us too!”

“I’m getting everyone souvenirs, don’t worry!” You already had a few gift ideas in mind.

Mammon put his forehead on your shoulder and a hand on your back that he rubbed. “But mine’ll be the best. I trust ya.”

“Don’t let Solomon give you any food he cooks,” Beelzebub warned. “Actually, don’t let Solomon give you any food. Ever.” He tried to give you a lumpy-looking cloth bag, no doubt filled with homemade treats to take with you. It smelled scrumptious. Only issue was, the bag was half your size.

“Beel, there’s food in the human world. I can’t take all this, why don’t you enjoy it with your brothers?”

Beelzebub frowned, setting aside his present. It tilted under the weight of its own contents. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but how could you carry it all? That much food could last you a week.

He picked you up for his hug, your toes dangling several inches off the floor until he gently set you back down. Belphegor caught you as you regained your footing.

His hug was simple and cozy. He tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. “Don’t forget about my pillow.”

You suspected that if you ever actually tried to run away, these seven would go to the ends of the three realms to find you.

Satan nudged your luggage, observing the way it slided forward an inch. It was heavy to you, but clearly not them. “That’s really all you’re bringing? Do you have enough clothes?”

“Yes! You helped me pack!” The repetition was really starting to grate on you. Things were never this crazy when one of them had to leave the house for a few days. They wouldn't even care unless somebody went mysteriously unseen for over a week. “You all know I’ve got everything under control. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Hey, how come Satan got to help you pack?” Mammon complained.

“We did too,” Belphegor said, his twin in agreement.

“It was a group effort,” according to Asmodeus.

Mammon crossed his arms. "No way! You let these guys see your underwear?"

Satan ignored them. “Do you want another book for the road?”

“I’ll be fine.” You gave Satan his hug. After letting go, his fingers hovered by your side. “We’re teleporting there anyway. I don’t think there’ll be time to read anything.”

One suspiciously quiet demon in the back stared at the floor. “Two days,” he sighed. Leviathan did a poor job of hiding how upset he was.

“Levi, aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Yes!?” His head jerked up, met your gaze, and looked down again.

“I can’t leave until I get a full set of hugs from everyone,” you admitted. “I’m missing a very valuable part of the collection.”

Asmodeus and Mammon readily offered themselves for a second go. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed with envy and he grabbed you a little roughly, squishing his face into your shoulder. “You’ll take lots of pictures? A-and you won’t forget about us?”

You scoffed, “how could I forget about you? We’re bound together by a pact, aren’t we?” As for photos… you didn't know what would be interesting, but it couldn't hurt to take a bunch anyway.

Lucifer cleared his throat, signaling to Leviathan it was time to let go. "I miss you already," he muttered.

The seven of them followed you out of the house and down to the House of Lamentation’s front gate. It was like having a school of fish circling you. You could call it a miracle they weren't following you onto the main road, but if they went that far you knew they'd unreasonably demand Solomon take them along too.

“It’s just one weekend!” you reiterated. “Take care, you guys.”

They peered at you through the fence bars, waving when you glanced over. It was a sad sight, and possible attempt to make you come rushing back. If it was this bad already, you didn't want to think about how they'd act if you were going away for one week.

#maybe sequel when I come back? this was supposed to be more funny but it turned into more fluffy. hm! #i think my original thought was “mc going to a sleepover at purgatory hall and lucifer being all 'overprotective parent' about it” #idk about this but i wanted to get it out of my system so i'd stop thinking about it #obey me! swd #obey me swd #obey me! #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #omswd #obey me x you #obey me brothers #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me fluff

[kenjakusbraincum]

Heey, I LOVE your writings on soft sukuna, you write so beautifully🩷 please can you do one where he is jealous (fluff)😭🩷

Thank you sm for the kind words!!! Here's my best attempt at doing your idea justice <3

Sukuna has no real reason to be jealous. He practically owns you, controls every aspect of your life, who or what could he possibly be jealous of? Every servant who dared approach you in an inappropriate way would be dealt with swiftly. And you're a good pet, who has eyes for no one other than your master. You really don't give him a reason.

But there's this one thing... Since you've been so good and obedient, Sukuna has allowed you many liberties. You're permitted to skip around the mansion, watch Uraume cook, even enjoy little hobbies. You've tried many before you found that crocheting particularly piqued your interest. Ever since you've learned the basics, you've been spending hours working on perfecting your skills. At first it was cute, watching you squint in concentration as you move the hook. But then the math became really simple - having this hobby to keep you busy meant you approached Sukuna out of boredom a lot less. And he noticed it. It irked him, but you're not technically doing anything wrong. You were still as happy to serve him as ever, he just had to ask. But why would he have to ask? You should be all over him on your own. He should have to push you away, not beg you to give him attention. He didn't like this disturbance in your master and pet balance that this little hobby of yours caused.

He stands at the door now. You're crocheting again. You and your favorite servant laugh at your failed creation so sweetly, you don't even notice he's waiting. He clicks his tongue to establish his presence, and your servant falls to her knees immediately. You however, are not held to that high of a standard anymore.

"Master!", you call him, and hop up to greet him with a deep bow. Before he can say anything, you've picked up the piece of fabric you've been working on and ran into his arms to show him.

He looks at the ugly form and scoffs. "This is what I'm sponsoring?", he says and pulls a loose piece of yarn, making your little creation fall apart. He always was a bully, but you note his bad mood.

"I'm only a beginner...", you sulk.

"That much is obvious.", he flicks the yarn away and it falls onto the floor. Before you can bend to pick it up, he seizes your wrist and pulls you back. "Aren't you a little young to waste time with hobbies for the elderly?", he asks. You look at him with your cutest, practiced doe eyes, but it doesn't work.

"Come, pet. I know an activity more suitable for your age.", he says when you don't respond, and steps out of the room. You hop after him, unaffected by his condescending comments. You know that they're just for show. If he really thought you were a hag, you would've been gone a long time ago.

"Sitting at your throne all day?", you tease innocently and join him at his side, sliding your arm underneath one of his. You hope your playfulness will distract him from whatever is bothering him. "Or in a bath?" His lower set of eyes peeks at you and smirks, noticing that you're feeling particularly daring today. He's not sure how he feels about that. "Or in your bed." He rolls his eyes gently and opens the door to his chambers.

"At least then you'd be serving your purpose and actually spending time with your master.", he comments and shuts the door. His comment catches you a bit off guard and you stop in front of his bed. He makes his way towards you, and you look up at him with an insulted expression.

"Master, are you jealous of a ball of yarn?", you ask playfully, and squeal when he suddenly pushes you down to sit on the bed. Now you're at eye level... with his crotch.

"You've got quite a big mouth today. Put it to good use for a change, will you?", he runs his hand from the crown of your head to the back of your neck. You seem to have struck a nerve, so it really is the ball of yarn. Is it possible that Sukuna is this clingy?

"Will you?", he repeats and tugs on your hair and narrows his eyes. You smile obediently and reach behind him to untie his obi.

"Yes Master."

-

You try your best to manage the time you spend crocheting from then on, working on productivity in the hours that you dedicate to developing this skill. And it helps that you have a specific goal in mind now: helping Sukuna realize that this hobby is a friend, not an enemy. He still catches you engaging in it sometimes, and gives you a dirty look, but you're as quick as ever to drop what you're doing and join him. That seems to satisfy him.

When you're finally happy with the result of your creation, you look for Sukuna around the mansion. It's not really that hard to find him, as he frequents three places most of all: the dining room, his bedroom and his throne room. This time, he's sitting on his throne, and a small line of people wait for their turn to be gifted his attention. You on the other hand, don't have to wait in line to get it. His lower set of eyes spots you the moment you enter the chamber. You're allowed to roam the mansion, but barging in unannounced is not standard even for you.

Still, Sukuna has learned that you usually only feel daring enough to cross boundaries when you're sure he'll like what you have in mind. So for now, he will let this slide. He's bored as hell anyways. The people are dismissed and you pass by them on your way to his throne, nestled on a pile of bones. You stop in front of it and greet him with a bow.

"Master, I come to you with a humble offering.", you say with your hands on your thighs and your eyes fixated on the ground.

"Show me.", he says simply, but you recognize entertainment in his voice. You climb up the bones and feel his stare scan you from head to toe, before you sit on his knee.

"May I ask you to close your eyes?", you ask and flutter your lashes. Oh the way you seduce him. Who else could ask Sukuna to do something as dangerous as close his eyes? Give his opponent valuable time to land an attack. Who else could dare? And who else would he ever listen to and really close his eyes? Really do as he's told? Oh how safe he feels with you.

You take one of his large hands into yours, and gently pry his long fingers away to open his palm. He has beautiful hands. The only ones you've ever known, but you're sure they're the most beautiful hands in the world. So dangerous, so elegant. You want to press a kiss to his palm, but you hope your gift will have the same, maybe even more profound effect.

Something soft touches his skin, and then you speak, as politely as before. "You may look.", in your softest voice. And when he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking at you first. You're an offering on your own.

Then he looks at his hand. Two crocheted plush figures resembling him and yourself lay flat on his palm, connected through their holding hands. At first glance, it looks like they're two separate creations. In a sense, they are, but... He tries to part them.

"We're sewn together.", you explain. He hums in amusement and inspects your gift more closely. His plush is bigger, recognizable by the pink hair and four buttons for eyes. It's even wearing his favorite kimono. Yours is smaller and less detailed. You look like any other human when placed next to him, insignificant. But in a sea of pets, entertainers and lovers he's had in the past, he would never fail to recognize it as you.

He's spent so long looking at it with that face of his that you just can't read. You're starting to grow restless in his lap, and he feels your eyes dwell into his soul. When he looks back at you with one pair of eyes, your brows are furrowed in worry and you're fiddling your hands in your lap. He pats you on the head and pulls you closer, so you have no choice but to lean on his frame.

"It's beautiful, darling.", his fingers run through your hair, scraping your scalp softly. "No loose threads either.", he looks at you with all four eyes now, and you feel so small in his arms. You're not used to receiving this many compliments from Sukuna at once. Not ones that weren't directed at your body or performance. Especially not when he's looking at you so tenderly, when every word sounds so loving and genuine. "You've improved so much.", his hand is on your face now, and you catch him glancing at your lips. You part them to start thanking him, but you already know how much he hates listening to that.

You stay quiet instead, and lean closer, letting him take you. And he kisses you so softly, fingertips light against your heated skin. You feel like you're floating, like a lily pad in a warm pond. The littlest gesture of his affection has you melting in his embrace. The power he has over you... and how wonderful it is to surrender yourself to it.

None of the liberties and privileges you've been awarded with compare to this. You know that many pets have walked these halls before you. Many warmed his bed and claimed the title of his favorite. But how many loved him like this? Enough to dedicate time of their day to making intricate gifts. How many could say Sukuna kissed them lovingly, for no other reason than to show gratitude and affection?

You're flushed completely red by the time his lips leave yours. You can't hold the intensity of his gaze, as he stares at you in adoration. "I'm happ.. I'm glad you l-like it...", you stumble through the words and win a giggle out of him. You are just so cute. Like a pet should be. He rubs your head again and pushes you away lightly.

"Go now, the people await me.", he says with a benevolent smile gracing his face. "I'll see you tonight."

You bow to him and leave.

And when you visit him that night, he is as gentle as he was when he kissed you earlier, still in a good mood after your gift. Caressing your hair, shoulders and back, as you lay comfortably with your head on his chest. Keeping you warm in his embrace. You're trying your best to follow the conversation, but sleep is slowly taking over you. Sukuna notices and plants a kiss to your forehead, wishing you goodnight. The last thing you see before your eyes close, is your handcrafted plushies sitting on his nightstand.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #soft sukuna #ok hear me out #im not sure how well i did the “jealous” prompt justice #bc i just struggled to conceptualize how sukuna would even be jealous #when hes in control the way he is in this little universe #(which i write in by default bc i know it best as it lives rent free in my head) #sooo maybe the jealous part got lost along the way #and maybe this ended up exploring gift giving as sukunas love language further #but i hope you like it anyways!!! #also> i have no ideas how to use tumblr in other words line break and stuff like that is maths to me #im also not sure and welcome any input is it better to post writing directly in the answer to the ask #or should i post it separately and just add that it was requested by anon/other person