#AND I COULD GIVE HIM A LITTLE CANE........... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coconutdays · 2 months ago

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BAD BOY DOWN!

s. on one of your usual days at work as an art seller for a luxury agency, a cocky and devilishly handsome sukuna meets your acquaintance, sparking a feeling you just can't ignore and neither can he.

w.c. 11.7k

w. fem! reader, mafia!sukuna! x reader , strangers to lovers! fluff!, smut! barely there angst! ermmm mentions of murder and crime? errr he eats your ass a little hehe because of how down bad he is

a/n: im feral for the thought of mafia sukuna. hope ya'll enjoy, as always it's not well enough proofread but ill do it as I reread it and catch the off stuff. hehe I really liked this and might want to write more instances of him. (also creds to the artist of this art of him! I did not make it or own it!)

"do you need help ma'am?"

there's a hobbling elderly lady struggling to walk across the street, what with the slightly heavy bag of vegetables she's trying to haul with her and her cane in her other hand.

she looks slightly ashamed that someone's offering help, probably the reminder that she's a bit dependent on others now. but when she looks up to make eye contact with you, wide young eyes in worry that only a grandchild could carry, her gaze softens and she bashfully hands you her brown paper bag.

she giggles a little when you carry it on your hip and have one careful hand out in case she needs extra physical help on the walk across.

when you finally cross the street, she motions for you to give the bag back, textured small hands opening and closing in your direction. you lean back a little with the bag in your arms, not thinking it a problem to accompany her further, you didn't have to go work for at least forty more minutes.

"I live right here." she smiles, hoarse voice happy when she lightly juts her head to the doors to an apartment building right next to you.

"oh," you sigh and hand the bag to her, slightly embarrassed that you kept her groceries from her, "I can still open the door for-"

"the doorman can do that." she fwips her hand

then she stares at you, her crows feet pronounced as she grins at you.

"pretty pretty girl." she says warmly, reaching a hand up to softly pat your cheek.

you're at work later after helping that lady cross the street, warm feeling bubbling in your body at the compliment and caress she gave you.

you sell and manage art for an exclusive agency/musuem. and today you so happen to have a large silent auctioning event for some pieces from the heian era. not your preferred range, but hey there's a lot of people here now that are willing to pay a lot for some of them.

it's also a great networking event for artists of the agency too, wandering around and hoping someone as rich as the Medici's can keep them as a little pet.

you've done your more than fair share of repeating the same monologue and facts over the pieces to some clients when you wander and head over to one of the art pieces on the wall. it wasn't part of the auction, but it was your favorite here at the museum, perfectly distanced enough from the crowd so that you wouldn't have to really interact with anyone before you went back to working.

you wish you could afford it

the paycheck plus commission from working at a prestigious place like this was hefty, but not that much for a luxury like that.

it's none of that abstract emotion crap.

yes you know everything could be art, but hey you have preferences.

it reminded you a lot of Monet, so pretty and elegant. it was even more disheartening when it had two sister pieces from the same line by the artist too. the only three from that artist that had such a magical heart to it.

"this not part of the auction is it?" a gruff voice speaks

now, you don't like judging people based on their looks. you're a very liberal person. some artists and uptight rich people that shop here wear and decorate themselves in the most peculiar way, but you're slightly taken aback at this man.

he has these lined tattoos on his face.

face tattoos. and you're NOT judging, but it's just not a casual thing to see. you don't mind tattoos, but nobody really tattoos their face unless it's for cultural reason, they're involved in the wrong circles, or just kinda dumb.

he looks far from dumb though.

he's very handsome actually.

"n-no," you answer quickly once you realize you've taken a little too long to answer him. nonetheless, you quickly regain your posture and stick your hands behind your back, he's a customer either way, you have to do your job.

you enter customer service mode and reach a hand to motion towards the pieces for auction, "but the heian pieces we have are right over there, I can tell you-"

"I already placed my offers earlier," he does a slight tch with his mouth, a personality tick of his probably, and he stands still where he is, still looking at the painting in front of you.

"that's good to hear," you gulp, caught off guard by how dense his presence is, "we have a similar collection coming in-"

"you really like this one?" he completely ignores you and juts his chin towards the painting, looking at your for a few seconds before looking back at the painting.

and those few seconds were so blissful.

his eyes are really pretty, they're an intense red, but you felt enraptured being held in his gaze.

"I do." you breathe, nervously shifting so that you can look at him and the painting at the same time.

"I was in a gang when I was younger," he says curtly, so freely aired to you

your jaw drops a little and you're confused as to why he would-

he peers over at you a little from his spot towering over you, an eyebrow slightly raised at you in a sort of knowing.

"the tattoos, they're from before."

"oh! I wasn't! no! it's not-"

"you go out makin friends with face tattoo guys?"

and again he has you speechless, mouth opening and closing to say something

"you'd be stupid if you did." he does that small tch again, looking over at the painting again, "shit's not normal."

"I don't." you regain some confidence, bashing yourself in the head wondering where the yapster in you went.

"good." he gruffs

"how much this worth anyway?" he seems a little unimpressed by it when he points his jaw towards it

"150,000." you chirp, gazing at the painting again with appreciation.

when you look at him, he looks slightly confused and disgusted by the price. and you know its just because he really doesn't like it a lot, its a girly painting and he's well...

he's got a sharp undercut, dirty pink hair spiked back. there's black studs on his ears, the obvious face tattoos and probably more beneath the dark black suit he's wearing, which is nicely tailored because you can make out his beefy lean build through it.

but you figure he's probably spending the same if not more on those heian artifacts if he's here.

"everyone has different taste," you shrug, "I'm not really a fan of the heian stuff."

he hangs his head when he looks down at you, almost a bit sassy?

"I know. never seen a pretty face look so empty talking about a thousand year old tapestry."

when did he see you explaining the pieces? how'd you miss him in the crowd? oh no, you internally groan, if he could tell then so could everybody else-

"nobody cares that much," he says, fully turned to you now, tilting his head when he sees just how panicked you look, almost as if he can tell what's on your mind, "the riffraff here only care about playing their ballbusting competition between each other."

"and you're here because?" feeling your heartbeat stabilize at his weird reassurance

"I like it and I can afford it"

another tch.

you're starting to really like that habit of his

wait, how can he afford it? what does he work in? as far as you know getting a high paying job with visible face tattoos is well, kinda close to impossible unless you're some rap artists or in the mafia...

one of your eyebrows is softly quirked up and you're about to open your mouth, but he beats you to it.

"you let everyone read your face this well?" he cocks his head to the side, observing you with amusement as he opens his mouth just a little, his sharp tooth biting down on the tip of his tongue in what you think is a weakening type of smirk, "waste management and a couple of bars is what I do, angel face."

you can't even act like this is a regular interaction with how not regular he's speaking to you, your usual work attitude towards guests washing away with him.

you pucker your lips a smidge and your eyebrows furrow in a playful curiosity as you side eye him a little, "do you interrupt everyone this often?"

he lets out a singular laugh, bearing his fanged smile at you when it dissipates, "only the ones easy to mess with."

your jaw drops a little, for the nth time

the audacity!

"I'm at work and you're saying all these things that aren't a regular interaction for me here!"

"and what were you working on all the way over here?" he retorts leaning down into your space

you fight the urge to roll your eyes and take a deep breath, steadily digging your heel into the hard floor as a way to stabilize yourself.

"taking a small break."

"aw don't look so mad at me," he tuts so endearingly, " 's cute but I don't want to stress that little heart of yours."

you feel yourself growing soft at the words, stomach feeling fluttery and like a fairy threw up in it.

but no no. you can't flirt with a client. much less one with face tattoos. it's just. it's not viable. this isn't a movie and your mom would sooooo kill you for even considering it. and even if he has clean money, he looks like bad news, like he'd just want you as a plaything.

"I appreciate the flattery mister..."

"sukuna." he smiles so handsomely

"mister sukuna, but this is a work event and I really can't be-"

he stands tall all of a sudden and puts his hands in his pockets, motioning with his head towards the painting, "put that on my account."

"HUH?"

he gives his back to you and starts to walk away, "you heard me angel face."

later, after everyone’s left, you’re left to look at the auction paperwork leftover with your boss

"mister sukuna requested that all of the heian artifacts be sent to his estate..." your boss worriedly reads to you from his paperwork, "and for the peony in night painting be sent your address."

"what?!"

you dash to his side to read the document with him.

there was your name and the request for it to go wherever you lived. when did he even get your name?

"you didn't know?" he looks at you, wide eyed.

"no!" you quickly answer, heart beginning to race, overthinking brain running wild that people will think you seduced him or did something else to have such an expensive piece sent to your home, "I didn't do anything! I swear! We just talked about the painting and he asked me how much it was, said he was going to buy it and then he left!"

"well whatever you did was good enough for him to gift you such a piece," he pushes his glasses back up, tired eyes skimming over the rest of the document to make sure everything else was in place. your boss then picks up another paper from his desk and pushes it towards you, "doesn't matter anymore, sign off on these and put your address."

you're on the phone with your best friend satoru after the painting gets moved into your apartment by the delivery workers of your agency later that week.

"okay and why aren't you hopping on his dick????" he asks crudely, unphased as you can hear him trim his finger nails through the phone

"he's like, not presentable satoru," you breathe, stressed as you brush your hair back, "he had a bunch of tattoos on his face and had that whole playboy thing going on."

satoru hums in response, too focused on what he's doing

"this is too much money spent on me by a stranger, I feel guilty, what if he thinks this is going to get me to sleep with him? what do I do?"

"okay chilllllllll," he drags on, "tattoos aside, was he hot?"

you stay quiet, knowing where this was going.

"oh ho hooooo you think he's hot. what's wrong with letting him get a taste then?"

"because I'm not like that." you say firmly, patience being tested by the white haired fiend.

"you're sooooo boring," he sighs before taking your side, "the guy can't force you to sleep with him, he already signed it away to you. and it'd be pretty distasteful to harass you at your place of work for some pussy."

in the process of biting the skin at the edges of your nails off you look at the new painting hanging on your wall.

"okay, you're right."

"besides what kinda face tattoos were they? was he on some lil xann shit?"

"no," you exhale, recalling his face, "they were like these sharp lines outlining his cheeks."

"he in the mafia or something?"

"no he said he does waste management and owns a couple of bars."

"don't know why you're so opposed to riding that then, you sound way too dreamy talking about him."

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU WHY!"

and so what if mister sukuna's become a little fantasy of yours as the days go by? being with him isn't feasible, but that doesn't mean you can't be flattered by his advances towards you.

you're just a girl after all.

he hasn't come back, something you shouldn't really allow yourself to be bummed out about, but you still feel hopeful everyday before work.

stop, it's not going to happen.

it's what you tell yourself as you walk into a fancy nightclub kinda bar with your coworkers one friday. one of them sold a 500k dollar vase from the victorian era and said drinks were on them tonight. free drinks were free drinks and you really wanted to see if this bar would make lychee martinis.

although not vip, even the normal tables were expensive looking. there wasn't that horrible packed stench of vape smoke and sweat. this place smelled lingering cigarette smoke and expensive cologne, something like guerlain.

you've entrusted your bag to one of your coworkers by the time you've headed off to the bar real quick to make your order.

they don't make lychee martinis

but at least they had espresso martinis

so you're sipping on one within a few minutes, seated comfortably on the luxury couch to your table as you look around the club/bar.

it's so pretty and classy.

there's chandeliers that somehow don't clash tackily with the slight colorful low lighting pulsing with the music. the floors are clean and the seats are made out of soft leather. even the people here are dressed accordingly. no girls were wearing sneakers here, so magical.

and when you look straight ahead, there's some sort of vip room aside from those at the balcony. must be a fortune to expense. one of the curtains shuffles and you can only make out a little bit of the inside.

its dimly lit by red chandeliers and the couches are-

the double doors open as a group of men walk out. and as they move out, a face goes immediately detected by you.

seated at the end of the room, smack right across from you, is sukuna.

who immediately detects you.

his face had been so stern the split second before he spotted you. and now it was smirking at you, mischievous glint fading away when the doors finally closed.

argh, you forgot he owned a couple of bars!

you don't know if you feel nervous or excited he saw you.

well, you do.

both.

but the overlapping combination had you picking up an adrenaline rush, your flight instinct screaming at you. but you were among coworkers and couldn't act on it like a second grader running away from their crush.

so you chug the rest of your drink and flee to the bar, hoping you get lost among the crowd if he was going to go up to you.

"an espresso martini please!" you pipe up, drumming your fingers on the bar countertop nervously before unlocking your phone and sending a distress text to satoru

you SATORU SATORU SATORU SATORU SATORU PAINTING GUY HES AT THE CLUB MY COWORKERS AND I ARE AT I THINK HES THE OWERNER AND HE SAW ME EING GKJE IM GOING TO KILL MYSEF

satoru jeez im here oh no ahahahahahahaaha good luccccckkkkkk remember to wrap it before you tap it kiddo ;)

"trying to hide?" a low voice teases in your ear

you basically jump at the intrusion, fumbling with your phone and catching it before it falls.

sukuna's there when you hesitantly turn

it's so hard not to faint out of sheer infatuation with his presence.

he's closer to you than when you met at work. his cologne infiltrating your senses and his hard chest right smack in front your face.

"not funny." you breathe, putting a hand over your heart and giving him a soft glare

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he smiles down at you condescendingly, leaning closer to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger before letting go of it

why is he so hot?

"you like your gift?" he jeers

you deadpan a little and tilt your head at him, peering up at him through stern eyes, "if that was an invitation or incentive for me to sleep with you or do anything remotely-"

"can't I spoil a pretty face?"

sukuna leans on the countertop and sets his arm down so his hand can hold his face as he looks at you. he's still taller than you like this and its so frustrating for your nether regions.

"well," your eyes flee away from his, looking at a specific point to the side from pure nerves, "although I really appreciate the gift, I had already made it clear that I wasn't interested."

"you're breakin my heart angel." he pouts at you in such a fake manner before standing up straight and reaching a hand out to you, "not even interested in a dance?"

you close your hand in a careful fist to your chest when you look down at his own, thinking about the offer.

"the least you could do for that pretty present of yours." sukuna smiles, knowing you wouldn't be able to say no to him out of guilt.

you press your lips together and look at him with awkward 'really?' eyes before hesitantly putting your hand in his.

the difference between your hand and his was enough to send you into a coma.

sukuna's twirled you into his embrace at the center of the dance floor when he begins to tease you.

"if you don't like me why's your hand sweating balls?" his canines gleam under the lights

you bashfully look to the side to avoid his gaze, instead coming to find that your coworkers have spotted you dancing with the handsome figure that is sukuna. many of them, mostly the women are drunkenly giving you excited thumbs up and big smiles, fangirling for you.

"I just have sweaty hands." you quickly peek at him before going back to looking anywhere else but him.

"and you can't look me in the fuckin face because?"

the vulgarity makes you squash your nervousness and whip your head around to face him.

"I'm looking you in the face." your eyebrows are knit and your mouth is a little tight pressed, your bottom lip starting to defiantly jut out in a pout.

he smirks down at you and it's not as evil as the other times he's done it.

"what?" you say defensively when it carries on a little too long, almost feeling insecure when you start to worriedly look for what he's not saying in his eyes

"stop letting me press your buttons," sukuna teases, "I told you its bad for your blood pressure."

you feel like that's not all he wanted to say, but you move on and try to remain calm while you hold his gaze and mention something else.

"how did you know my name? back when you signed off for the painting to be sent to me."

sukuna shrugs

but then he laughs when you glare at him and answers you

"heard you introduce yourself to some sleazeballs asking about the yamato paintings."

that was wayyyyy before you gave that monologue on the tapestry he had also seen you talking about.

"how long were you watching me?" you give him a quizzical investigative face.

"why're you asking?" he leans down next to your ear, "trynna flatter yourself knowing how long you had my attention?"

"you're impossible." you puff, feeling your face heat up at the question and the proximity

"now that's where you're wrong," sukuna tuts, swirling you around so swiftly and quite literally sweeping you off your feet

"how?"

the hand that he has on your waist drops and moves up to softly hold the underside of your neck and reaching all the way to your cheek, his thumb fondly gliding over it.

"what's impossible about a guy spending 150k on you angel face?"

fuck, you're actually melting like this

but no no no no you're still trying to be stern with him

"what are you trying to get at?" you softly glare, face slightly mushed in his large hand

his eyes look dense and full of something warm when he peers down at your lips, your nose, your eyes, everything.

but he ignores your question

"did the bar have what you wanted?"

taken aback, you wait to see if that's actually what he said and when you realize he did, that's when you answer.

"no."

"what shit were you lookin for?" he says, visibly curious and looking for your input

"a lychee martini..." you're a little confused

he hums in recognition before letting his thumb make a quick swipe on your bottom lip and letting go of you completely after, only holding on to the tips of your fingers.

you feel a little empty? when he lets go

"I have to finish some paperwork beautiful," sukuna plays a little with your index and middle finger, letting them go when he continues to say, "don't stay too late."

"or you'll have to get a ride back home in my car." he almost bites, teasing you basically for your fear of proximity with him

and then he leaves, large v-shaped back breaking through the sea of people and going back into his lounge room.

and the next morning well...

"satoru...you won't believe this," you start through the phone the moment your friend picks up, pacing through your apartment in your nightrobe as you eye the two newly installed sister pieces on your apartments walls.

"you're at his place and his place looks like you're in american psycho?"

"ugh no," you groan, starting to nervously twirl your hair in your hand,"he sent me those other two painting from the same line as the first one he bought me."

"no way."

"yes way."

"he wants youuuuu bad."

"argh stop." you flop onto your bed, letting yourself ricochet in it

"this guy is like wrapped around your finger and he's rich. I'm kinda offended you haven't even entertained it at least give me some bedtime stories."

"but what if he's just throwing money at me like im some expensive call girl????" you run your hand down your cheek and mouth in peril

"um, he could get one for like 40k, the guy's practically spent half a million to make you happy."

you huff, still worried as you stare at the paintings from the open door in your room

"and who cares about the tattoos at this point. if I were a girl id dream about a hot sexy tattooed bad boy throwing cash at me and eating my ass."

"ugh satoru, when have I ever talked about him eating my ass."

"oh he's going to try to when he's whipped like that."

and you put some thought into sukuna later that night when you're taking a bubble bath.

it's actually kinda plausible to see something serious with him...

your perspective shifts when you imagine the end game you've always wanted and he fits into it. you can see that handsome inked face holding one of your babies.

to be honest, it turns you on.

and how you deal with that...you know how

it's the following monday, two days laterish, when you've gotten back from work and sit there staring at the number you're about to dial.

it's sukuna's number.

and even though you feel really weird/guilty about taking a quick picture of it behind your boss' back from his files to have gotten it, you push the feeling down.

"hello?" a mean gruff voice picks up

"mister sukuna?" you peep, adding your name in case he didn't recognize the voice

his tone suddenly changes when he hears you speak

"now where'd you get this number bad girl?"

you want to bash your head into your table because how can you hear his smile through the phone?! and how is it making you nervous like this?!

"from my boss's file for you at work, but please don't tell him-"

"you get the gifts I sent you?"

straight to the point like always, so you might as well get to it

"yes, I called because I wanted to say thank you."

the paintings do really look beautiful in your apartment

"I really appreciate them and the fact that you went out of your way to get them for me."

"You're welcome angel, wanted something to remind you of me."

you giggle a little at his flirting

"oh? did I say something funny?"

"no," you breathe through a grin, "I just felt flattered."

"now you're flattered huh? all I had to do was buy you the set? this part of your little plan?" he jeers

its all obvious teasing, but you still want to clear the air

"no, I just..."

and you can't put it into words that 'hey I thought about it and I'm actually into you and wouldn't mind more of your flirting' without getting embarrassed

"just tired of playing hard to get like you're scared of me huh?"

"ye-yeah," you nervously sigh, clicking your heels on the floor, "something like that."

"don't be scared pretty face," sukuna reassures you, an air of self assurance still there, like you're sure it'll always be, but nonetheless still soft enough to calm you, "I don't bite."

"unless you want me to."

you scrunch your nose, laughing a bit through it, "why did I know you were going to say that?"

"doesn't sound like you were saying no."

"stop thinking about that." you tut, embarrassed that he's touching such a topic

"as long as you do."

caught off guard, you go quiet, mind quickly racing to when you were servicing yourself to the thought of him the other day in your bath

"just teasing you sweetheart," he laughs, adding, "I'll ask you for permission next time I want to think about that. how's that sound?"

"okay." you almost stutter

"and how does picking you up at your apartment tomorrow for dinner sound?"

if you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounds unsure of your answer there even though he sounded so secure before.

"that sounds good too."

"alright. I'll pick you up at seven. I have to go now and do some business angel face."

"that's fine too."

"and send me your address. okay?"

"okay."

"bye angel."

"bye"

the moment you get home from work the next day, you are bussing it to the restroom to start getting ready.

now, you didn't plan on getting fucked. you were going to resist the ministrations of that man, especially if you didn't want to overthink the next day and somehow convince yourself all he wanted was sex from you and he ended up getting it. but you wanted to feel sexy and confident with him. because these last two times you had seen him were child's play. yes you were always polished, but this was making yourself perfect, layering everything together.

hell, you even shaved down there. you weren't going to have sex, you weren't! butttttt if his hand wanted to do give you a little...

stop stop! that's a thought for another time if this date ends up being good.

anyways...

so, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you're very proud of yourself. you even give yourself a hmph of approval.

this is gonna shut him up

you're pristine.

sukuna waiting for you outside angel

you inhale deeply when you see the text.

maybe, just maybe you were still nervous. and you couldn't exactly take a couple thirty minutes to run laps around your apartment right now to exert the energy of embarrassment.

but you put on your brave face and find yourself shakily opening the double doors to your apartment complex a few minutes later.

sukuna's already leaning against his very expensive looking car and you try not to look so bashful when you approach him because he hears the moment you open the door and smirks so devilishly handsome upon looking at you.

"all this for for me hm?" he bares a fangy smile at you as he gathers both of your hands in his.

you're about to faint, his mouth does the indent thing at the edges like the guy who plays finnick in the hunger games when he smiles.

your back shivers, but you hide it.

"why can't it be just for me?" you retort, turning your head to give him a playful side eye, "I like to dress up."

"then share a little bit with me sweet angel." he playfully pleads, making these obvious fake eyes of desperation while swiveling his head in 'agony' into your couples hands

but the way he nuzzles into your hands for just a split second is so tender that you're fighting the urge to backflip across the entire city.

"what restaurant are we going to anyways?" you scrunch your nose happily at his previous playfulness

sukuna starts to maneuver you towards his car, opening the door, and buckling you in while he answers, "it's a surprise."

then he shuts the door and winks at you while walking to his side, relishing in the way you cross your arms and squint at him from inside the vehicle.

"that's cheesy," you say when he sits in the driver seat

"good thing we're on a date then sweet thing." he smirks while starting the car, suddenly and quickly pinching your cheek before backing out of the parking space.

and the thing is there's not one not hot thing about him.

you wish you could record the way he drives so you could watch it later at home by yourself to fangirl to while playing hot music over it.

he drives so well with one hand and its no surprise considering how massive it is and overtakes the wheel. and its the ringed hand that's the one driving. two large silver rings, one on his thumb and the other on his middle finger. the veins scattered around them make you want to clench your thighs too. if he's this veiny on his hands, then he must-

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he laughs, cocky smirk decorating the just as cocky glint in his eyes when he peers over at you for a split second.

"just keep driving." you huff, cheeks hot while you cross your arms to yourself and turn yourself towards the opposite direction, gazing out the window as you beat yourself up for staring at him for too long.

"here."

you look over and sukuna's holding his phone out for you, eyes still on the road when he says, "take a picture of that pretty face for me."

"huh?"

pit-pat pit-pat goes your heart

"what's so confusing about wanting to see your face on my phone?"

hesitantly, you take his phone, "but that's a little awkward to do in front of you...and-"

"do that little shy smile." he winks at you and cocks his head as if to already say thank you

feeling like you're unable to say no because what he wants you to do is actually really harmless and super sweet, you click on the camera button of his phone.

and against every bone in your body getting second hand embarrassment, you raise the phone in both of your hands, and do that 'little shy smile' he asked for, which does come naturally because you're feeling soooo shy right now.

you press on the middle center

then suddenly sukuna's squishing your cheeks between his hand

flash!

and he snatches his phone back, tucking it back in his pocket while he keeps driving, eyes forward but still drenched in mischief along with his evil grin

"hey!"

"got a complaint?"

"what was that?!"

"thanks for the picture beautiful."

"ugh that better not be my contact picture!"

"good thing this phone's mine ain't it?"

letting out a strong huff, you sink into your corner of the car, resting your elbow on the car door and placing your cheek flush against your hand.

to say the surprise was a surprise is an understatement. a surprise would have been a really expensive restaurant you'd never be able to afford. but this?

this is the entire rooftop lounge of a skyscraper all to yourself with sukuna.

and the sky's barely turning orange, the sunset near.

he knows what he's doing oh my god you want to jump him so bad and climb himwkefnejfegerg

"you like it?" he's leaned down and swerved his upper body a little to face you, haughty smile giving away that he knows you're impressed.

"yes..." you exhale, impressed, marveling at the whole thing. your brain doesn't even think twice to follow sukuna when he gently takes your hand and puts a light hand on the small of your back to lead you to the dining table.

and you're still too busy taking in every detail when he pulls out a chair for you and helps you sit down.

"is this one of those custom menus with the private chef and everything?" your jaw is a little dropped and you're nerding out over this whole extravaganza

sukuna just stares at you for a few seconds, signature confident grin only tightlipped and gingerly upturned at the end.

"you gonna sound this surprised every time I take you out?"

nobody's ever done anything like this before.

sure nobody's ever bought you half a million in art pieces before either.

but this was in a way, his own form of art. the attention to detail with what time he was coming to pick you up so you could catch the sunrise. making it private and just intimate for the two of you...

you delicately fwip the menu to your chest and smile at him like a little girl who's just been told she can whatever she wants from the store.

"thank you, mister-"

"thank you ryomen." he corrects you, the corner of his mouth fully upturning

"thank you, ryo," you beam, "words aren't enough to explain how grateful I am for this."

and maybe its the shortening of his name, but????

his eyebrows raise a little, as if he's rarely surprised, and a warm color matching the sunset blossoms slightly on his cheeks

"oh." your mouth forms an o shape and your eyes widen a little, "are you blushing?"

but just as fast as it appeared, sukuna furrows his brows to regain his cool facade and starts clearing his throat

"take a look at the wine options."

turns out, just as handsome as his face is, so is his ability to converse and listen.

for every moment you forgot what you were yapping about, he was quick to remind you what is was. the smallest details you mentioned, he was asking questions about when you finished talking.

"can I have more win-"

"ah no," a tch comes from sukuna when he talks to the waiter, "I had a special drink for her with the dessert. can you just bring it now?"

"yes sir." he bows and heads off

two thoughts:

one: you started to notice that sukuna made that tick whenever he was in a serious mode or regarding people that werent??? you??? possibly??? it was hot if that was even more the case.

and two: what special drink?

"what special drink are you-"

"here you go madam."

as quickly as sukuna sent off for it, was as quickly as it came.

there's a lychee martini in front of you

your eyes can't help but widen in awe at him, "you remembered?"

"you think there's anything I won't?" he quirks a brow at you, offended even you might say

a breeze comes and you shiver when you respond to him through a grin, "no, I'll make sure to know that now."

he observed the way your body rattles because no sooner is he standing up and picking up his coat from his chair to drape over you. as he's leaning down to do this, you bite the bullet and do what you've been dying to do since you got over your fears about him.

after placing a hand on his forearm to keep him in place, you pick your head up and place a soft kiss on his lips as a thank you, letting your lips mold onto his for a fleeting moment before letting go of his arm and the kiss.

his eyes are closed when you pull back, and he's inhaling and exhaling calmly. he tightlips his mouth too, almost as if savoring and memorizing what just happened.

"you're a tease, angel" he gruffs before heading back to his seat.

a few weeks later, sukuna's cooking for you for your date. he's an excellent cook and plenty of successful dates with him have allowed for you to finally accept an invitation to his very expensive penthouse.

you've kissed plenty of times by now and been on the precipice of heavy make out sessions.

the precipice

so you're soooooo eager to sit with him on his couch after a glass of wine with your very tasty dinner and very good conversation

you've purposely worn a skirt too. not that you want to have sex (well you do) but just to tease him for when you know you'll inevitably be on his lap.

"what're you doing angel?" he asks when you take his whiskey glass from his hand and place it on the coffee table in front of you.

"I wanna kiss," you breathe, already straddling him and putting your arms over his shoulders.

sukuna quickly places his hands on your waist and leers at you with a mischievous smile, "what's taking you so long then sweetheart?"

you giggle before swooping in for his mouth.

it's probably the fact that you're both finally under the shield of privacy, but sukuna pushes you flush against him, holding onto you tightly. and you cling onto him just the same

he kisses so sensually and wet, you're on cloud 9. fuck you wonder if this is how messy he'd be with your pussy.

you whine when sukuna dips his tongue into your mouth, flicking at yours as an invitation to play. he's evil at this, you find out when you try to flick at his tongue and end up with him sucking on it with his teeth. you can feel him laugh in throat when you moan and squeal at how much it hurts but turns you on all the more.

just the act of asserting his dominance over you during the kiss has you growing needy and small under him. because you've already started to mindlessly grind and bounce on his lap, scratch that, his very prominent boner.

"shit." he growls when he looks down at your panties being the only barrier you have against his crotch.

"feel me, please." you pant, placing one of his hands on your ass, the other on one of your tits.

sukuna's eyes grow dark when he watches you do this, immediately squeezing hard to watch for your reaction.

he seems to be in a daze when he sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes form an o to let a moan out. immediately dipping his head into your neck, lapping so languidly at a spot on your jugular.

it's all too much, so hot, you need more, you want to do more

your mind is so hazy

sukuna stops you right when he feels you begin to fiddle with the top button of your shirt.

his breathing is labored so much as a testament to how much restraint he's showing.

"let's remember what you said before angel face." he huffs out, struggling to speak at the feeling of your pussy pulsing on top of his bulge.

that's right

you told him you appreciated a grand gesture to make things official and only then would you allow yourself to sleep with someone.

you groan, closing your eyes and smushing yourself against his chest.

"just hurry up," you whine, grinding a little on him in desperation to which his response is to pinch your butt.

"don't be a brat baby."

you're pretty sure sukuna's going to do his grand gesture and make you 'officially his' in Paris. (even though you both know he's wrapped around your finger and you're too crazy about him)

why, you ask?

because you just got to paris in a private jet with him.

it's like a fifty shades of grey movie, you fear (not)

he has you go on a shopping spree at galaries lafayette with him as your audience for any try-ons. he's bought you so many things, some just because you stared at it for too long, others because he thought you'd look pretty in them.

he then has you dress up in any of the many choices for dinner at a michelin star restaurant, which was spectacular and not one of those avant garde graham cracker for dinner dishes.

and you can't help but be so giddy when you get to your ultra special room at the ritz and find it covered in pink rose petals. the balcony was open with a table covered in gifts you hadn't seen him get for you. another smaller cart next to it had an assortment of chocolates and small sweets, and a large metal can with two champagne bottle poking out of it.

and sukuna being him, he timed it so that the Eiffel Tower was sparkling when you got there.

"you still trynna hurry me up now?" he looks down at you with a knowing cocky brow quirked up.

you shriek, jumping up into his arms and giggling through the many kisses you begin to place on his face. sukuna lifts you up into his arms like it's nothing, inviting your kiss attack until he somehow brings you to lay across lap on the bed.

"patience isn't fucking easy with a brat like you angel."

slap!

you squeal again and feel sukuna hike your skirt all the way up.

but what you don't anticipate is for him to rip your lace thong apart with both of his hands.

gasping, you turn around worried, "I had that thong ready for weeks!"

"shut up."

another slap

"don't talk about shit when we both know I'll get you the same pair again."

you like how foul mouthed he is now, and you haven't even gotten to the good part

exposed to the air, you feel yourself getting drenched more than you already were in anticipation earlier.

sukuna notices, a low grumble resonating from his chest when he pries your ass and thighs open. you can't see, but you can feel your slick covering you all over like some vulgar cobwebs at the separation.

he squeezes hard as a warning when you wiggle your ass out for him, desperate for some relief.

"I want you, please, ryo," you beg, turning around to bat your lashes at him

"fuck, baby, let me fingerfuck you first." he growls, not even looking at you, still deeply concentrated on your wet pussy.

with his right hand, he slides three fingers back and forth across your folds, spreading your slick, getting you even messier. and when you're moaning softly in relief, melting into his touch, he just slides all of those three fingers in. squelches ricochet in the room and you're far from embarrassed now, trying to fuck yourself back on his hand.

then he brings in a fourth finger, and you're squealing. your brain can only process the repetitive delicious intrusion of fingers into your sticky hole.

"I-" you begin, numb on the only words you can think, "I-i lov-"

your now official boyfriend muffles you with his hand, continuing to destroy your pussy with his other hand and leaning close to your face to smile so evilly at the way you're jolting and furrowing your brows with every thrust.

"ah-ah not now." sukuna roughly grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to forcibly make you look at him.

"you're only allowed to say that when this tight pretty hole's finally wrapped around my dick. are you listening pretty baby?"

"mhm" you nod eagerly, eyes rolling back when his thumb joins the party and starts rubbing against your clit roughly

before he lets go of you, sukuna presses his mouth against yours and gives you the most rated r kiss ever, letting his spit drip and mix with your slobbering mess from the heaving you've been doing.

it doesn't take long before you feel that knot start to tighten up, body starting to twitch against your will, which causes your boyfriend to pound you harder with his hand.

"ryo," you squeal, subconsciously trying to escape his grasp, "I-im gonna-oh my god oh my god, I can't I can't I can't."

you're basically screaming when one of ministrations pushes so hard against your gspot that you're making a mess on his hand and arm automatically, hell you think you've squirted all over his clothes too.

“atta girl atta girl.” he groans, still messily fucking your pussy and sloshing your juices around

you're still in the aftermath of your orgasm, shaking when sukuna manhandles you onto the bed and fixes you so that you're face down ass up.

the only recovery time you even get is the moment it takes for him toss away his coat away and hurriedly unbutton his shirt off. if you're not mistaken he gave up and tore it off by the time he got to the middle.

before he pushes your face back into the bed, you make out that he does have more tattoos. the moment is brief but you see lines wrapped around his arms and others dragging down to his abs all the way from his shoulders.

and satoru, to your very big surprise, is right when, with no shame, sukuna licks a long fat stripe all the way from your clit to your asshole.

shocked, your eyes widen, but you can't help how you become putty in his hands at the way he so sloppily interchanges between your pussy and your other much lewd hole.

pants keep heaving from your mouth, short circuiting on the way he was just spitting on your asshole and then started to suck on your clit while finger fucking your pussy again.

squealing and banging your fist on the bed as exertion, sukuna doesn't really care, because he's no sooner just decided that the proximity he has with your pussy isn't enough. now he's wrapped his arms around your thighs and diving his face into your pussy, sharp nose stimulating your lips while he mouths and slobbers all over your little clit.

"ryo!" you squeal, trying to pull away because it's too much and resorting to contorting yourself around in order to pull at sukuna's hair

his reaction? he growls from the euphoria of your nails digging into his scalp while he gets to makeout with your pussy.

too hot, you think

you feel the twitching start again in your body, the mushy sloppy feeling on your clit becoming just enough for you to start getting there again

and get there you do, quickly, because sukuna spits on your clit and immediately starts sucking on it harshly, the perfect mix for you to start coming undone again.

not as severe as coming from your g-spot, you make a small spurting mess compared to when sukuna had you keening on his fingers.

you're fucked out already and he hasn't even put his dick in yet.

“fuckin come here and taste yourself.” sukuna growls, dragging you towards him by the ankle until his hand makes his way to the back of your neck, tilting your head to look up at him.

he goes in to basically fuck your mouth with his own. crudely separating briefly between kisses to push accumulated saliva between your lips, relishing in the way you’re practically begging for it and being so pliant for him. all the meanwhile he pushes yours dress down and off of you, even smoothly unclasping your bra.

"get on your back, nice and pretty on the pillows angel."

sukuna's stood up at the edge of the bed, undoing his pants roughly and quickly

and eagerly you scramble to the head of the bed, turning around and laying down, only picking your body up a little by leaning up on your forearms to watch him.

you rub your thighs together at the sight of him.

there's a thick line wrapped around both of his thighs. and you almost would've been entranced by it if it were't for the massive length between them.

sukuna's thick, long, and veiny. his tip looks angry, leaking globs of precum. his happy trail is mouthwatering with the way it leads to his trimmed bush. and-

oh! it twitched a little

"you stare enough?" sukuna exhales through a haughty smirk, getting on top of you in the bed, which subsequently means he opens your legs so he can settle between them.

you watch in lustful agony when his dick bobs against your pussy and grazes it, which only lasts a second because your boyfriend obstructs your view by initiating a makeout session with you. but where your previous kisses during this encounter had been been vulgar and inappropriate, this one was deep and sensual.

unable to do anything but be at the receiving end of his work on your mouth, you feel as if you can't get any closer to sukuna, wrapping yourself around him as if that'll subdue your need.

like he's able to sense it, he softly lets his hands wander, finding your calves and guiding them up, up, up until his hands are under your thighs and you're pressed open so lewdly. a tiny whine escapes you when you feel his entire length slap against your folds, sliding between them and making your heat pulse even more in anticipation.

when he separates from the kiss, one of your hands is pressed against his chest, being held by him by the wrist gently, while the other is wrapped over his shoulder, that hands of yours mindlessly scratching at his undercut.

"look at me," he grumbles, crimson eyes boring into your own when you make eye contact with him.

"you want this?" he lewdly slaps his cock against your puffy lips.

with a shiver, you nod your head earnestly, "please."

sukuna's chest rumbles with something dark at the sight of you so innocently desperate for him.

shortly after, with one hand, he positions his tip at your entrance and then uses that same hand to hold onto the side of your face fondly when he starts to push in.

he stares intensely at you, analyzing every contortion of your face at the way he starts to fuck himself into you.

it feels like the air's been knocked out of you with every thrust he uses to ease into your pussy.

"ah ryo," you let out a combination of a squeal and a pant, head lolling to side

"keep fuckin looking at me," he says so meanly, love tapping your cheek to turn you back to him.

chest heaving, you keep your half lidded eyes on him, too conscious of the way he's just bottomed out and beginning to slide out. the way he drags out of you is so delicious.

but it's even better when he pushes all the way into you, his fat tip working past the ridges of your insides, pushing against the way it tries to hug him rightly.

although the pace is slow, sukuna presses hard and evilly against you with each thrust, making sure to kiss your cervix with his tip. it's not anything too hardcore and you know that you're perfectly capable of cumming from just this at the way you start to lose yourself.

you love it

you love him

and you can say it now.

"r-ryo," you moan through furrowed brows.

"mm" he hums, still focused on you.

you gulp, body strung out, "I love you."

nothing's changed, he's still boring into your soul, which inherently makes you insecure because he hasn't said it back.

"ryo," you begin to whine, exasperated and flustered that you just declared your love to him and he hasn't, "I said that I-"

"yeah I heard you," he says, pushing your legs further back, "I fuckin love you too angel."

"have for a while," he mutters, his pace is ruthless all of a sudden and he rolls his eyes in ecstasy before leaning down and harshly sucking on one of your nipples.

you can't take what he's giving you without screaming, essentially.

he's big everywhere and he's completely overtaken you.

thoughts can't even process in your head, only able to process the copious amounts of pleasure he's giving you and babble out whatever's on the tip of your tongue in the the moment.

"it's so-so much ryo," you moan, "ah-ah 's so fucking big, your cock's so fucking big."

"yeah and you're fucking taking it all baby." he angles his hips to start hitting up at your g-spot, "tight little pussy's sucking me back in like a good girl."

"hngh IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou." is all that squeals out of you in response

and if you weren't getting destroyed before, you definitely were now.

drool spills from the side of your cheek in the absence of your words as sukuna's just dragging you onto his cock mercilessly like a fleshlight. which apparently is what starts to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

so mustering all the strength you can, you pull your boyfriend against you by wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I want you to cum with me so fuckin bad ryo," you whine, forehead pressed against his, "please please please please cum with me, I want it so bad, I wanna milk you, pleasepleaseplease."

he growls, "fuck."

"don't talk like that baby," his eyes close for a moment as if he's trying to calm himself down, but he keeps the same rhythm

"please," you plead again, forcibly pulsing against him when you fear that your orgasm is already around the corner, "it's all I want, I'll be so good, I'm so good for you, pleasepleaseplease."

sukuna's breathing labors heavily as he listens, but ultimately ignores you as he grips you harshly and bullies his dick against your walls.

all until you just

release

your pussy pulses and clamps around him sporadically, juices spurting all over sukuna's abs, thighs, everywhere.

which he ends up not being immune to

"shit!"

considering the way he starts cumming so much inside of you, mean thrusts twitching inside of your ruined hole. every spurts spilling from his tip has you wishing for more and more.

he falls on top of you after, hugging you to him and nuzzling into your neck tiredly. one of your hands is swiping across the expanse of his back slowly in exhaustion.

"fuckin tease," he nips at your shoulder, obviously bothered you made him cum so quickly.

when you wake up the next morning, you're so very sore and you want to nuzzle into sukuna for the serotonin burst as medicine.

but he's not there.

your upper body sticks up as you look for him

oh, he's on the phone in the balcony

he's got some black sweats on, hanging deliciously off his hips and paying homage to this v-line.

you want to jump on him as soon as he gets off the phone.

he hasn't noticed you're awake, turning his back to you as he continuous talking. which you take advantage of, quickly rummaging through one of the shopping bags at the side of the bed from yesterday and finding one of the sexy slip gowns he bought for you.

sukuna's dragging a stressed hand through his hair when you open the glass door a little. he still hasn't heard you.

'tch'

"the fuck you mean that patch-work fuck raided the warehouse?"

he sounds so angry

'tch' and then an exasperated sigh

"no don't fucking do shit. can't even leave you shit faces alone for a second before shit falls through."

"wait until I get there. put twenty men at the other warehouse, urame's in charge of them."

"and keep the motherfucker you found alive. I'll deal with that fuck face when I get back."

"yeah well if he's one of those shit sniffers, he's not leaving alive. don't scare him yet, let him think we'll keep him off the hook. yeah okay, don't fuck up again."

not

leaving

alive?

sukuna turns a little to the side after ending the call and you can see him pinching the bridge of his nose from stress, eyes closed.

until they're not, and he spots you from the corner of his eyes, face dropping, panic setting in, both of you for very different reasons.

"angel face, how much did you hear?"

your throat feels dry

are you even mad? fuck fuck fuck fuck you're so stupid. every single emotion is being thrown at you. mad because he lied to you, so much so that he got you in bed with him. you shouldn't have given him a chance. but you're so sad, so heartbroken. you really really love him, so much you can't breathe right now at the thought of leaving him. but is he even a good person? was he one of those mafia men who abused girls like you? you can't you can't-

"sweetheart sweetheart," he's rushing to you, voice beginning to plea as he cups your hands into his, keeping them close to his chest and crouching a little to your height, "it's not what you think."

you're struggling to breathe, scared of who you're with

"what's," you start weakly, in shock almost, "what's not what I think about you saying a guy can't leave alive."

it pains him, you can see it in his eyes when he presses his lips together and tries to think of something to say

"are you actually in the mafia?!" you spit out, confused, "this entire time you had this sketchy vibe and said it was just your stupid waste management and bars?"

"I do own those baby." he sighs, wincing a little

the back of your mind notes that your previous thought about him being an abusive mafia man is a farce, he seems so...defeated that you know now. he's not threatening you.

"what exactly do you do." you say through gritted teeth, stressed at the situation and still trying to decide which of your instincts you should follow.

sukuna, hands still clasped with yours, gets on his knees and brings his forehead against your fingers, "doll, let's just go inside and I'll explain to you. I'm not as horrible as you're starting to think I am."

it's a little true considering he wiped a previous thought off your mind earlier, but still

this is dangerous

this is bad

but you nod your head, still angry, telling my the knit of your brows, "fine."

sukuna eyes you carefully as he gently closes the glass door to the balcony, you're already seated at the center of the bed, arms crossed over each other as you glare at him.

he wants to shoot his foot for the sole fact that he's made you so mad at him and that even that's not enough for him to not want to kiss that angry pout off your face, no matter how upset it is.

"so," you start, "how many people have you killed?"

its so venomous that sukuna closes his eyes in defeat.

"princess, that doesn't matter." sukuna sighs as he sits at the edge of the bed, facing you.

"what do you mean it doesn't matter how many people you've killed?! wouldn't it matter if I had a kill count of-"

"all you need to know is that it's not over thirty," he exhales and licks his lips, "and that every single one of them were some of the most shitty evil scum there is."

"and who do you work for?" you grumble

sukuna avoids your eyes when he answers, "people work for me."

you're still looking at him so sternly.

sukuna says your name and reaches his hand out towards you, planting it on the sheets right in front of you as an act of begging for your mercy

"I do bad things," he begins, eyes begging when they look upon you, "but I don't do them to good people."

but you're still numb because

"I can't-" your eyes water and your bottom lip wobbles, "I'm involved now! I-i want to be with you and marry you and everything! and you're stuck in this!"

sukuna's eyes widen at your burst

you feel a panic attack incoming as you keep speaking, your heartbeat escalating by a million and body starting to shake.

"you're a criminal! and you've probably got so many charges waiting on you! this isn't good! it's illegal and I don't want to go through seeing you in jail! I dont want to go to jail if I get caught in the mixup!"

and all sukuna does upon seeing your reaction then is lean forward, encroached on the bed as he grasps your feet fondly, placing tender yearning kisses on them.

"I'm not going to jail my love."

he places another kiss on your ankle

"and you aren't either."

"how do you know that?" you ask, still angry teared

"there's a system, there's people, I know too much."

ugh, you're still so mad at him,

so overwhelmed

you gently push him off, making a sound of frustration, and stomp over to the bathroom.

unable to completely shut him out, you leave the door slightly ajar as you take a bubble bath to soothe your body, both mentally and physically from last night.

there two soft rasps on the door before the door swings open a little and sukuna enters a bit awkwardly, slightly braced for you to suddenly kick him out.

his shoulders drop and relax when he sees that you just stare at him as he walks in, getting closer and closer to you.

"do you want me to order lunch in?" he sits at the edge of the tub cautiously, watching for any distress from you

serious and mildly stressed still, you couldn't deny how much your stomach was starting to hurt out of hunger.

"what's there for lunch..."

"anything you want."

you're looking up at sukuna sternly at the same time he's decided to move back a piece of stray bubbly hair from your bun away from your face

"well I don't know what kind of food there is here..." you huff a little, not denying his touch

"there's this uh," he thinks for a second, swirling your hair around his finger gently, swallowing before continuing, "the place with truffle pizza we watched on the tv nearby."

it's so confilcting to still feel so mad at him even when he's being so charming like this, he remembers everything you like.

"that a yes?"

"yeah." you look to the side feeling flustered at how tender he is with you

"I love you." he says, hand caressing your cheek and his face near yours so he can convey his sentiment wholeheartedly with his eyes.

you stare at him for a second

this is all such a whirlind for your mind, but

"I love you too."

it's not as lovey dovey as he just said it, nor as calm, but you mean it, even if you're irritated.

tentatively, he places a gentle, sensual kiss on your lips.

which you instinctively reciprocate, tilting your head up for more.

your boyfriend isn't kissing you as roughly as he was last night. these kisses were full of yearning and the plenty apologies you'd get tired of hearing if he were saying them into your ear again and again.

you moan softly into them, your breath starting to labor from need.

the hand that sukuna had on cheek starts to caress your knee gently. maybe he intended for the following or maybe he didn't but he understands you and your body when you spread your legs open under all the bubbles.

you sigh in relief when he starts fondling your folds under the water. and you can feel sukuna kiss you only a smidge harder at your reaction.

he slides two fingers in softly, hooking them thrush against your gspot instead of pummeling you like the night before.

you stop kissing--you're unable to kiss back when he starts to repeatedly press against the spot, hard, again and again.

"ah-ah," you pant, nails digging into his neck while he places loving kisses on yours

you cum hard, scratching hard down sukuna's neck, but he doesn't say anything, watching you in desperation as you come undone.

you're holding onto the edge of the tub for your life when sukuna drags his fingers out. you're still shaking terribly from the aftermath.

exhausted and gulping, you watch as he licks off his fingers what wasn't washed away by the bath before placing both of his hands on the underside of your arms.

"you wanna get out?"

"mhm." you nod shakily

you're still a bit serious throughout the next couple of days. not as pissed off as the first day, but you find it hard to wear down all your worries so quickly.

yet you manage to enjoy the little things sukuna had planned out and taken you to do.

so even though you're a little grumpy, you're not as grumpy as when you first found out, clinging onto him without a word as you both fly back home on his private jet and then on the car ride to his place.

"when we get there," sukuna begins to eye you tentatively, holding onto your hand harder while the other mans the steering wheel, "I'm going have to leave to deal with some things, but I'll be back for dinner."

knowing what you know, you carefully ask, "you mean deal with that guy?"

"yes," he exhales awkwardly, "the people he works with...they're not safe. I wouldn't be able to sleep if he was walking the same streets as you."

"well..." you start, looking at the road nervously

"just be safe. please?"

it's the first time you've shown any sort of conciliation with what he does and sukuna knows it, eyes widening and exchanging between you and the oncoming cars.

"yeah, I will sweet face," he kisses your hand, calmed features suddenly furrowing and tensing when he spots something he doesn't like.

'tch'

sukuna pulls over in a familiar area, parking perfectly before he starts to get out of the car. "it's nothing bad," he says, a little exasperated, "you can stay in the car, just let me help real quick."

and he dashes out of the car, jogging towards-

he's helping that elderly lady you helped so many weeks ago. except she has more bags on her this time and sukuna's stolen all them from her to help her cross the street.

now that you think about it, you're parked in front of the same apartment complex she lived in.

quickly, you get out of the car too, meeting them halfway, marveling at the both of them in confusion.

she smiles when she sees you, happy eyes looking between you and sukuna.

"h-hi." you try to greet her, still confused

but she's looking between you and sukuna like she knows something, more so him, like they have an inside secret between them.

head popping out from the many bags engulfing him, you see your boyfriend shake his head at her in a panic, eyes widening and trying to express the well known symbol for 'don't say anything don't say anything.'

you're really confused now and you're about to ask a question when the old lady bonks sukuna's head with a store magazine and it illicits an answer out of him for you

"this is my grandmother." he huffs, grumpily looking down at her from the corner of his eye

"what?" you're quick to try and polish yourself in front of her, leaping foward to shake her hand with both of yours, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. It's so nice to meet you, I'm ryomen's girlfriend!"

she laughs a little, and it kinda reminds you of mama odie's mischievous laugh from princess and the frog.

"I know," she giggles a little before walking towards her apartment complex, motioning for the both of you to follow her inside.

so you follow and

"babe, is that a gun sticking out her purse?!"

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryoumen fluff #ryoumen sukuna

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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

Text

— love language

summary: You and Matt are now dating, but you haven't told anyone. How long will it take your friends to notice?

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: i had this idea after writing goodnight n go (which is technically the first part, but you don't need to read it to understand this). anyways, here's a bunch of fluff

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, matt is a cocky little shit, making out

Things moved on normally, the only thing that had changed in the past month was that you two weren’t just friends but dating.

You didn’t realize it, but you were already quite close to Matt.

Matt chuckled, his arm hooked around yours as the two of you waited in line for coffee. “Really?” He asked sarcastically.

“Ugh.” You elbowed him. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m just saying, what kinda friends have a toothbrush at their place?” He tapped his cane against the floor lightly.

You tilted your head. “Uhhh… pretty sure at one point Foggy had a toothbrush at your place.”

“That he never used other than one time.”

You scoffed, nudging his side again. "Still counts."

Matt smirked. "Does it?"

"Yes, because that means I’m not the weird one here. You just have a habit of letting people leave their stuff at your place."

Matt tilted his head slightly, feigning thoughtfulness. "Interesting theory. Except you’re the only person whose toothbrush has stayed."

You opened your mouth to argue, then paused, realizing he was right. "Okay, fine, but that’s only because—"

"You stay over all the time?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, squeezing your arm lightly before stepping forward to order.

---

Foggy opened the door to Matt’s office. “Hey, did you ever finish the deposition for the Martin case?”

Matt put down the fork to his Pad Thai, leaving it in the Styrofoam container. “Yeah, I did.”

You took the opportunity, snatching the fork from his container and stealing a bite of his Pad Thai. Matt huffed, but you could hear the amusement in it.

"Really?" he murmured.

"You put it down," you said, chewing. "That means it's fair game."

Foggy barely glanced up from the papers in his hand. "She’s got a point, Matt. You know the rules."

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he blindly reached for the fork still in your grip. You dodged, keeping it out of his reach as you took another bite.

Foggy flipped a page. "Anyway, judge pushed the hearing back a week, which is good because it gives us time to go over the new witness statement. Karen’s taking a look at it now."

Matt hummed in acknowledgment, still trying to reclaim his fork. You smirked, shifting slightly in his lap. He retaliated by sliding an arm around your waist, pinning you in place.

"You gonna give that back?" he murmured.

"Maybe," you teased, holding it just out of reach.

Foggy sighed, still not looking up. "If you two devolve into a full-on fork battle, at least take it outside. I don’t need Pad Thai in the depositions."

Matt smirked, finally managing to grab the utensil from your grip. "Noted."

You huffed but didn’t move, resting your elbow on his shoulder instead. "Fine. I got what I wanted anyway."

Matt chuckled, shaking his head as he twirled the fork back into his food.

Foggy snapped the folder shut. "Alright, well, since you two seem busy, I’ll go see if Karen needs help."

"Let us know if you need anything," Matt said easily.

"Yeah, yeah," Foggy muttered, already halfway out the door.

---

Josie’s was loud and crowded as always, but at this point it was like a second home. You were telling Karen about an incident in the lab. “—Levi somehow hooks the string around the sprinkler and pulls. I get an alert on my tablet and rush over to the lab. Turns out, when he pulled the sprinkler, he also pulled part of the main water line. All for a tiny qubit that got stuck on the ceiling.”

Karen snorted, shaking her head. "Please tell me this guy got fired."

"Nope," you said, sipping your drink. "Because technically, it worked. The qubit came loose. He just, y’know… flooded half the floor in the process."

Karen groaned. "God, Stark Industries sounds like a nightmare sometimes."

"You have no idea," you muttered, setting your glass down.

As you kept talking, you felt your shirt strap slide down your shoulder. It wasn’t anything major, just a slight shift, but before you could adjust it yourself, Matt did it for you.

His hand found your shoulder with ease, fingers brushing your skin as he hooked the strap with two fingers and guided it back into place. It was quick, thoughtless, something he’d probably done a hundred times before without even realizing.

Karen barely blinked.

You didn’t think much of it either, continuing on. "Anyway, Levi tried to convince me it was an 'engineering breakthrough' and that 'technically' he proved a new method of remote retrieval—"

"You’re kidding," Karen deadpanned.

"Oh, I wish."

Matt smirked beside you, listening quietly. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, close but not overbearing.

Karen leaned forward, taking another sip of her drink. "So what’d you do?"

You grinned. "Told him if he ever did that again, I’d make sure the next thing he got stuck was his own head in the centrifuge."

Karen burst out laughing. "And let me guess—he immediately backed down."

"Pretty much," you said smugly.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are terrifying sometimes."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, echoing the same words you’d said to him earlier that morning.

Matt tilted his head slightly, smirk deepening. "Guess I have a thing for danger."

Karen rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. She was too used to the way you two interacted, and nothing about tonight seemed different from any other night.

---

“You didn’t have to come.” Matt murmured, as your hands combed through his hair. “It’s just a mugging case.”

“And yet,” you pulled your hands away. “You were goin’ to walk in there with hair like that.” You gave him a grin. “I helped you devil boy. Oh, wait.”

You pulled his red-lensed glasses off before cleaning them with your shirt. Matt huffed, tilting his head slightly. "You know, most people don’t manhandle my things without permission."

"Most people aren’t me," you shot back, flipping the glasses open and sliding them back onto his face.

Matt’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.

Foggy sighed from beside you. "How do you two have time for this while standing outside a courtroom?"

Karen smirked, arms crossed. "Multitasking."

You grinned. "Exactly. I’m helping him and annoying him at the same time."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really do take your job seriously."

"Obviously."

Before Foggy could reply, the courtroom doors opened, and the previous case let out, lawyers and reporters filing into the hallway. The four of you straightened slightly as Matt rolled his shoulders, settling into courtroom mode.

"Alright," Matt murmured, adjusting his tie. "Let’s get this over with."

You reached out instinctively, running a hand down the front of his suit, smoothing the fabric. "You’re good."

Matt caught your wrist before you could pull away, his thumb brushing over your pulse for just a second longer than necessary. “You going to stay?”

“Yep. I’ll be sittin’ in the front row looking pretty.”

Foggy snorted. "Sittin’ pretty? That’s your plan?"

"Someone’s gotta balance out Matt’s whole intimidating blind lawyer thing," you teased, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Matt smirked. "Intimidating, huh?"

"You know what you do," you muttered, patting his chest once before stepping back.

Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, let’s get in there before we miss the good part."

The courtroom was already filling up when you and Karen slipped into the front row, Matt and Foggy making their way to the bench. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning back slightly as you pulled your phone from your bag, muting notifications.

"You know, sometimes I forget you don’t actually work for them," Karen mused, watching as you settled in.

You glanced at her. "Why?"

Karen shrugged. "You’re here so often, always involved in their cases, bringing them food, making sure Matt doesn’t walk into court looking like he just crawled out of a dumpster—"

"Hey," you cut in. "I don’t make him look good. He just listens to me when I tell him to fix his tie."

Karen smirked, tilting her head. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes, looking toward the front of the courtroom. Matt and Foggy were talking in hushed tones, Foggy flipping through a stack of papers while Matt leaned slightly toward him, nodding at something he said.

Karen was still watching you, but you ignored her.

The judge entered, and the room settled as the proceedings began.

---

The hearing wasn’t long, but it was long enough for you to notice Karen sneaking glances at you every so often. You didn’t say anything, keeping your focus on the case.

Matt and Foggy handled it well, as expected. You knew Matt’s confidence in the courtroom was unmatched, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes behind the red lenses, you knew he was completely locked in, analyzing every shift in the judge’s tone, every heartbeat in the room.

By the time the judge adjourned the hearing, you were stretching slightly, rolling your shoulders as you stood.

Matt and Foggy approached, gathering their things. "Well," Foggy said, stuffing papers into his briefcase. "That went about as well as it could’ve."

Matt hummed in agreement. "We should have a decision in a few days."

Karen exhaled. "That was exhausting to watch, so I can’t imagine how you two feel."

Matt smiled. "Used to it."

You reached out, fixing the fold of his pocket square before he could tuck his cane under his arm. "You did good."

Matt turned his head toward you slightly, smirk playing at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed. "Yeah, Murdock. Try not to look so smug about it."

Foggy raised a brow, gaze flickering between the two of you for a second. Karen, too, was watching, something unreadable in her expression.

Neither of them said anything.

"Alright," Foggy finally broke the silence, snapping his briefcase shut. "Lunch? Please? I need food after all that legal jargon."

"Agreed," Karen said.

You nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Matt tapped his cane against the floor once, falling into step beside you. Karen shot one last glance between the two of you but still said nothing.

---

You pulled out an expired container of milk. “Matty, I seriously don’t know how you, of all people, didn’t notice you had 2-week expired milk in your fridge.”

Matt smirked from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You think I make a habit of sniffing my milk cartons?"

You made a face, waving the expired container in his direction. "Considering you should be able to smell the rotting dairy in your fridge? Yeah, actually, I do."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, stepping forward as you popped the lid open and took an experimental sniff—only to gag immediately.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, shoving the carton at him. "Smell it. I dare you."

Matt wrinkled his nose, taking a slight step back. "I’ll pass."

"Uh-huh, that’s what I thought." You shut the carton and tossed it in the trash before opening the fridge again. "When’s the last time you actually bought groceries?"

Matt leaned against the counter, lips twitching. "Don’t know. You usually do it for me."

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "That’s not the win you think it is, Murdock."

"I don’t know," he murmured, stepping behind you, hands settling at your waist. "Feels like a win to me."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, lips brushing just behind your ear. You huffed, pushing him back lightly with your elbow. "No, you don’t get to distract me. Your fridge is a disaster."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t let go entirely. "I’ve survived this long."

"Yeah, because I keep you alive," you muttered, pulling out a sad-looking bag of spinach and holding it up for him. "This? This is a crime."

Matt smirked. "Pretty sure I deal with actual crimes for a living."

"You’re so lucky you’re cute." You tossed the bag onto the counter with a sigh. "Alright, that’s it. We’re going grocery shopping."

"You say that like I have a choice."

"You don’t," you said, shutting the fridge and turning in his arms.

Matt smiled, fingers brushing over your hip before he dropped his hands. "At least let me buy you dinner after."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Bribing me with food?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk you tried to suppress still made its way onto your lips. "Fine. But you’re carrying all the bags."

"Deal," Matt murmured, reaching for his cane.

You grabbed your coat, glancing at him as he adjusted his watch. "And I’m making sure you don’t buy anything that will expire in two days."

Matt chuckled. "Now that’s just cruel."

---

The grocery store was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the kind of late-evening lull where the only customers were people grabbing last-minute dinner ingredients or, in Matt’s case, replacing an entire fridge’s worth of expired food.

You pushed the cart while Matt walked beside you, his hand resting lightly at the crook of your elbow. "Alright, first things first," you said, steering the cart toward the produce section. "You’re getting actual vegetables. Not just things that used to be vegetables before they died a slow, tragic death in your fridge."

Matt smirked. "I resent that."

"You resent having to eat vegetables," you shot back, picking up a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart.

Matt tilted his head slightly, like he was considering. "That might be true."

You sighed dramatically. "It’s like taking a toddler shopping."

"You did sign up for this," Matt pointed out, casually trailing his fingers over the display of apples as he passed.

You side-eyed him. "Did I? I don’t remember agreeing to supervise you."

"You knew what you were getting into," he teased, reaching past you to grab an apple and setting it in the cart.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, adding a few more. "What else do you need? Other than everything."

Matt hummed, fingers tapping lightly against the handle of the cart. "Bread. Eggs. Coffee."

"Obviously," you muttered, already steering the cart in that direction.

As you walked, Matt’s hand slid from your elbow to your wrist, fingers idly tracing over your pulse before his hand found yours, linking your fingers together like it was nothing.

You squeezed his hand slightly. "If you think holding my hand is gonna distract me from making you buy actual groceries, you’re wrong."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Worth a shot."

"Mm-hmm," you mused, scanning the shelves as you walked. You paused near the coffee aisle, reaching for a bag of Matt’s usual blend.

"That one’s good," Matt said, nodding toward it.

You smirked, holding up a different one just to mess with him. "What about this one?"

Matt tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That one’s decaf."

Your lips parted in mock surprise. "Wow. Look at that. Guess you do pay attention to your groceries."

Matt exhaled a laugh, leaning in slightly. "I pay attention to you."

Your stomach flipped, but you covered it with an eye roll, tossing his usual coffee into the cart before dragging him toward the next aisle.

---

By the time you made it to the checkout, the cart was full. Probably more food than Matt had ever willingly bought for himself.

"You’re never gonna finish all this," he mused as you unloaded onto the conveyor belt.

"You will if you actually cook," you shot back. "And don’t tell me you can’t. I’ve seen you do it."

Matt smirked, handing the cashier his card before you could stop him. "Guess I have no choice now."

You squinted at him. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

Matt tilted his head. "Maybe it is."

You grinned. "Alright, Murdock. Guess I’ll be the judge of whether or not you can actually cook."

Matt chuckled, grabbing the grocery bags as the cashier finished bagging them. "I did offer to buy you dinner."

You crossed your arms. "I thought we were talking restaurant dinner, not Murdock’s Mystery Kitchen dinner."

Matt smirked, shifting the bags in his hands. "I never specified."

You rolled your eyes but reached out, grabbing a couple of bags from him. "Fine. But if you burn anything, I’m taking over."

"Noted," Matt said, leaning in just slightly. "But I wouldn’t underestimate me, sweetheart."

You huffed, shoving a bag at him before walking toward the door. "We’ll see about that, devil boy."

---

“Where’s my shirt? You know, the soft blue one with a star embroidered on it?”

Matt, who was sitting on the couch, fingers tracing a braille legal document, tilted his head. “…Where are your clothes?”

“My—that’s what I’m asking you.” You replied, hands on your hips, leaning against his bedroom door.

Matt’s lips twitched, setting the braille document down on the coffee table. He turned his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. "You’re asking me where your clothes are?"

"Yes, Matty." You sighed, crossing your arms. "I took a shower, and now I can’t find my damn shirt. The soft blue one? The one with the star embroidered on it?"

Matt hummed, pushing himself up from the couch, his movements slow, deliberate. "And you think I did something with it?"

"You have a habit of stealing my clothes," you pointed out. "So yes, you’re my prime suspect."

Matt smirked, stepping toward you. "Interesting accusation, sweetheart."

You didn’t flinch as he closed the distance, his fingers barely brushing along your forearm, trailing up to your shoulder before settling against your jaw.

"You’re not wearing any clothes."

You rolled your eyes. "I am wearing clothes. Just not the ones I want."

Matt exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly. "Bra and underwear don’t count."

"Tell that to every guy who’s ever seen a Victoria’s Secret ad," you muttered.

Matt grinned. "Is that what this is? A show?"

You huffed, lightly swatting at his chest. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, echoing your words from earlier, his fingers still lazily tracing the edge of your jaw.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Are you gonna help me find my shirt or not?"

Matt’s lips twitched. "I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to walk around like this."

You scoffed. "Matty, if I wanted to walk around half-naked in your apartment, I would. I don’t need an excuse."

Matt grinned. "Good to know."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back. "So are you gonna help or—"

Before you could finish, Matt turned toward his dresser, fingers trailing over the top before he grabbed something and held it out.

Your missing shirt.

Your jaw dropped. "You knew where it was this whole time?"

Matt shrugged. "You left it here last week. I thought it was mine."

You squinted at him. "Since when do you own a soft blue shirt with a star embroidered on it?"

Matt smirked. "I don’t, but you leave your stuff here so often, I figured it was fair game."

You snatched it from his hands. "Unbelievable."

Matt huffed a laugh, crossing his arms. "You gonna put it on, or do I get to keep enjoying the view?"

You shot him a look, but the heat in his voice sent something warm curling in your stomach. You turned away, slipping the shirt over your head, and when you glanced back, Matt was still smirking.

"Happy now?" you muttered.

Matt hummed, stepping closer again. "Not yet."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, catching your chin between his fingers before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his smirk deepened. "Now I’m happy."

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It was late at night when Matt convinced you to stay. Foggy and Karen were out of the office for the night, leaving just you and Matt doing your separate work.

The office was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of the city outside.

You were perched on Matt’s couch, cross-legged, a set of blueprints spread across your lap while he sat at his desk, reading over a case file. Neither of you spoke, lost in your own work, but there was a comfortable ease to it.

"Are you even getting anything done over there?" Matt asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You didn’t look up. "Are you?"

He hummed. "I was. Until I realized how unfair this is."

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. "What’s unfair, Matty?"

"You get to sit all comfy on my couch, while I’m stuck here, hard at work."

You snorted. "Hard at work, huh? I didn’t realize whining counted as work."

Matt pushed his chair back, standing slowly. "I think I deserve a break."

You barely glanced up. "Then take one. I’m actually doing something productive."

Matt made his way toward you, hands in his pockets. "Are you?"

You narrowed your eyes, lifting a brow. "Yes. Unlike some people, I have deadlines to meet."

Matt hummed, stepping in front of you. "And yet, you’re still here. With me."

"Because you asked me to stay," you reminded him, flipping a page. "You coerced me."

Matt smirked. "Did I?"

"Yes, you—hey!"

In one swift motion, Matt plucked the blueprints from your lap and set them aside. Before you could protest, he leaned down, hands bracketing your sides as he caged you against the couch.

"Take a break with me, angel," he murmured.

You exhaled, glaring up at him. "You are so—"

Whatever insult you had lined up died in your throat as Matt leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw. His lips brushed over your pulse, deliberate, teasing.

"Annoying?" he murmured.

You swallowed hard. "Distracting."

Matt grinned against your skin. "Mm. I’ll take that."

Your fingers curled around his tie, tugging slightly. "You are so lucky I like you."

Matt chuckled, dipping his head until his lips were just barely grazing yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You closed the distance, kissing him properly.

Matt exhaled against your lips, deepening it immediately. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You barely noticed when he guided you backward, until the edge of his desk dug into your lower back.

"Matty," you murmured between kisses.

"Mm?"

"I thought we were taking a break."

"This is my break," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

You huffed a quiet laugh, threading your fingers into his hair. "Productive."

Matt grinned against your skin, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. "You’re the one distracting me, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. His lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a kiss that left your head spinning.

Neither of you noticed the sound of the front door opening.

At least, you didn’t.

Matt either didn’t hear it, or—more likely—just didn’t care.

"Hey, Matt, I left my phone—"

Foggy’s voice cut through the air like a record scratch.

You froze.

Matt, however, barely reacted. His lips left yours just enough for him to let out a quiet sigh—like he was annoyed—before pressing one last kiss to your jaw.

"Should’ve knocked, Fog," he murmured.

Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t dare turn around. Foggy, for his part, just stood there. Silent. Karen was the one to break it. "Uh."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back against the desk. "Jesus Christ."

Matt still didn’t move. He just turned his head slightly in their direction. "You left your phone?"

Foggy blinked. "Yeah." A beat. "But now I kinda wanna leave it here forever."

Karen coughed, her voice tight with suppressed laughter. "Should we leave?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

Matt just smirked. "You could, but I doubt you will."

Karen cleared her throat. "Y’know what? I suddenly really need a drink."

"Yeah, me too," Foggy muttered, grabbing his phone off the desk and speed walking toward the door.

Karen cast one last glance between the two of you, shaking her head before following. The second the door shut behind them, you finally shoved Matt away.

"You knew they were coming, didn’t you!?"

Matt grinned, shrugging. "You said it yourself—I have a habit of coercing you."

You gaped at him. "Murdock."

He just leaned in again, lips ghosting over your ear. "You gonna finish what you started, angel?"

Your face burned. "I started!?"

Matt chuckled, nudging his nose against yours.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, still flustered.

"And yet," Matt murmured, smirking, "here you are."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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trianglegoddess · 1 year ago

Text

Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker.

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he?

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again.

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does.

It happens like this.

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair.

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham.

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair.

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up.

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold.

Then he looks towards the camera.

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves.

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham.

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler.

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes.

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely.

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch.

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black.

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless.

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised.

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on.

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down.

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again.

And then the Joker escapes.

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after.

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up.

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™.

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid.

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed.

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say.

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger.

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood.

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it.

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him.

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker.

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice.

“Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #bruce wayne #dc #batclan #batfam #joker #danny is a feral human #dp x dc #dc x dp

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timmydraker · 3 months ago

Text

Tim Drake first went to the Iceberg Lounge when he was seven years old.

Due to a rather unfortunate car collision his nanny, a sweet woman named Lillian, had never arrived to care for him while his parents went for dinner with their biggest sponsor. the woman lived thankfully, but when Tim realised he was home alone he grew fearful and took it upon himself to go and find his parents.

Luckily he was paranoid enough with them leaving so frequently he had… found a way to permanently track them.

Tim had only been allowed into the seedy lounge due to the fact that the bouncer on duty recognised him and knew his parents were inside.

Escorting the young boy inside after Tim very politely explained the situation, the man left him in the staff rom for the security and went to get the elder Drakes.

Who promptly betrayed Tim for so recklessly leaving the very safe mansion in Bristol on a public bus and then walking through Gotham in his pyjamas into a very respectful restaurant owned by a very important man all because his nanny was a little late-

Until an incredibly well dressed man came in, waving a cane around with a gleeful look on his face, “Jack! Janet! You didn’t tell me your little one was coming!”

Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin, didn’t seem to care for the frazzled and furious looks that quickly vanished into something appeasing from the Drakes and instead approached the wide eyed boy who just realised where exactly he was.

Tim looked up at the man and, knowing full well he was one of the most powerful mobsters in the whole world, promptly panicked and went into full faun mode, “I-I’m sorry Mister Pen- Mister Cobblepot, I was just alone and I got scared and I- I wanted my parents-“

Cobblepot, a feared man who had made his very name and appearance enough for people to run or give appeasing bow in a hopes he wouldn’t have them shot on the spot, then cooed.

Tim was then given a new set of pyjamas bought by a henchmen and was given his own room to sleep in for the night while his parents finished their dinner. Tim was given a hot chocolate with penguins shaped marshmallows and despite being in such a dangerous place, he felt so very safe.

Cobblepot tucked Tim in himself and with a somewhat dark look in his eyes said to him, “Look, kiddo, there’s… some people in this world who say they are good or that they will do good by and they don’t. These folks they, ah, don’t always seem like the type and that ain’t your fault, ya hear?”

Tim had listened with a confused expression but chose to keep the words in mind after considering how the older man had built his inheritance up to something so grand. He had to be smart, had to have good advice, even if he used said knowledge for nefarious means.

Tim had left a few hours later, half asleep in his mothers arms, with Cobblepot’s last words in his mind,

“If you ever need anything, you just come by, okay? Don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen ‘round ya, not anything that could make the big bat cross with you. But… if you need helps, any at all, just say the word.”

Tim didn’t exactly go and see the monster after that, not at least straight away, but when he got a sprained ankle one night after taking photos of Batman and Robin he panicked. Seen as The Iceberg Lounge was closer than the bus stop and he was really in a lot of pain, the then eight year old decided that it was better to get help quickly than have to wait for hours and only help himself.

So, Tim went to the Lounge and calmly asked the security if they could ask Mister Cobblepot if he could please come help him.

Having been told to allow the boy in if he came by, the man was already radioing to alert the boss only to widen his eyes at the very obviously swollen ankle the boy was standing on.

Picking Tim up carefully and taking him into the office room, he quickly got some ice and wrapped it around the limb.

Cobblepot had rushed in, alarmed at hearing the boy had been hurt and not having any other context, just to find himself telling the boy to be more careful when climbing around to take photos.

Tim, who had been given prescription medicine that Cobblepot had promised him was safe and the young boy had somewhat recklessly decided to trust, was then sleepy and embarrassed and accidentally confessed to taking photos of Batman.

Cobblepot had just been about to order his men to contact his parents, who were in Peru and unavailable, and was left with curiosity.

Tim showed him the actually very good photos and Cobblepot was left with a choice.

Use the boy for information on how he was finding and tracking the Bat or… leave the golden chance to get one over the Big Bat in favour of not hurting the young boy.

If he had lived even the slightest bit crueler of a life, if he had taken the marketing and business opportunity of dealing in kiddies and drugs and the things that are truely evil and not just money control, maybe he would have used the kid.

But this Cobblepot wasn’t as bitter as he could have been, all due to one interaction with Martha Wayne where the woman had chosen him to talk to in a crowd or ‘normal’ people.

He had to repay that kindness in more than just procreating her son.

So, Cobblepot bought Tim some new shoes and a new camera lense and told him come by in a few days so he could check his ankle was healing and maybe to see some more photos?

Tim then started to send printed out photos to Cobblepot every few weeks. Never really of Batman, but of everything and anything he photographed.

Cobblepot adored them and framed his favourite.

When winter came and Tim took as many photos as he could of the snowed in Gotham, the ice rinks and the penguins sat the zoo, Cobblepot had many of them framed and soon half of The Iceberg Lounge was covered in them.

When Robin died Tim went to Cobblepot and sobbed.

The man hadn’t understood why he was so upset at first even though he was a bit shaken by the boy dying, but all that mattered was the kid chose to come to him even though his parents were in town.

That night they talked a lot.

Tim confessed that he wanted to be like Robin, maybe not a hero, but brave and loud and funny and bright and not all polite wording, formal clothes and scheming for partnerships. He wanted to be someone more than a company and a last name, even if he did like his life and all of his friends.

Oswald opened up about his disability and how much he hated it. He told Tim about when Martha Wayne spoke to him like a person, greeting him without bending down or making a show of looking lower. He talked about how he wishes he was different and that he is only so cruel so people respect him.

They make a promise to each other that night.

Oswald promises to be nicer to himself so Tim won’t be worried about him, as well as a more loose promise of trying to avoid the meaner methods of his business.

Tim promises to be whoever he wants and that if her ever becomes Robin, he’ll turn a blind eye to the Lounge.

Tim does become Robin a year later, debuting two years later after his extensive training in an improved suit and with a far a more calculating and measured approach to the role than the last two.

Oswald didn’t stop dealing in weapons and some of the lesser drugs, but he did stop with the drugs that were harder to control and kept getting out of his connections. He still killed those who wronged him, but he gave one chance for improvement and instead of killing his men who failed he dropped their rank to things like janitors or waiters.

Oswald is hurt when his favourite gothamite stops coming around every few months for a chat or sending photos. He worries he upset the boy he started seeing as a family member, which makes him focus on the family aspects of his business, how it started and what he turned it into.

It’s almost a whole year later, a whole year of hearing about and seeing the new Robin get hurt on TV, that he meets the boy wonder.

Tim looks at Oswald, Batman commanding in his earpiece, in full gear and stares at the man in his full Penguin gear.

They lock eyes and Oswald just knows.

Twenty men have guns pointed at him, ready to fire when their boss says so, only to lower them when he stamps his cane down.

Awkwardly they all leave the room, knowing the boss is telling them too but consisted as to why.

Tim starts crying, feeling like he did when his parents were yelling at him when he first entered the Iceberg Lounge, and clenches his fist at his side and tries not to beg forgiveness.

Oswald, hurt that Robin is Tim and that Tim lied, is just so relieved because this means Tim wasn’t angry at him he just couldn’t be friends with a mod boss and be Robin at the same time.

The man smiles, wide and showing off his two golden teeth, he laughs heartily and shouts, “Congratulations, my boy! I can think of no one better for the role!”

Robin runs into Penguins arms, begging for forgiveness and asking for them to please not fight!

Oswald holds the boy for a moment before pulling away, “Listen, the boy behind this mask will always have a safe space in my Lounge, but the mask himself has a job to do. Leave me and the Bat to tussle, for both our sake.”

Sniffling, Tim pulls away and asks in a hopeful but resigned voice, “Can’t you just… stop?”

Oswald smiles and pulls the boy down for a quick squeeze, “You’ve already changed me a lot, but business don’t care for softies. Now, get outa here! My boys are tired so we’re… we’re gonna turn in for the night.”

Tim smiles, knowing full well that Oswald is giving into his puppy eyes but not willing to push it.

Batman, who was listening the whole time, is fucking furious, but can’t deny that Penguin has shaped up in the last few years and isn’t as much of a threat.

Robin is benched for three months and in that time trains with Barbara.

Tim visits Oswald, now named Uncle Ossie, every few months and sends him all of his photos even the odd ones from patrol.

Red Robin works with Penguin often, trading information and getting supplies for The Nest when he is too angry or petty to talk to anyone in the Cave.

Tim Drake has free access to the Lounge and often brings his friends. He knows all the workers names and has his own room next to his Uncle’s, who will always find the time to greet his boy with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek that he has managed to master with his pointed nose.

Everyone thinks Tim is apart of the mob, but considering he’s a CEO of Drake Industries and CFO and COO of Wayne Enterprises and seems to be a bit ignorant to crime statistics, they assume he’s just another rich dumbass or knows what he’s getting himself into.

Red Robin always shows up to the places encroaching on Penguins turf.

Tim Drake spends 57,000$ dollars on a cane made from a meteor that landed in the Arctic and has penguins engraved in the handle.

Red Robin yells at Red Hood for being mean to his ‘uncle’ and everyone assumes that’s why Penguin has gone soft, but when that same Red Robin single handedly beats the hell out of a mind controlled Superboy they decided it’s warranted.

#batfam #dc comics #tim drake #bat family #dc universe #batfamily #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #the iceberg lounge #jack and janet drake #tim drake centric #tim drake angst #morally grey Tim Drake

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months ago

Text

I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

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spxllcxstxr · 7 months ago

Text

Jayce and Viktor with a S/O who is Hypersensitive to Loud Noises • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: hi !! how are you ? <3 your jayvik fics are so cute ☺️could i mayhaps request jayvik x gender - neutral reader headcannons with a reader whos hypersensitive to loud noises ? <3 tysm 💙-- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, hypersensitivity to loud noises

A.N: I'm so glad you guys like my jayvik stuff!!! I have a lot more in the works (including fics!!) Thank you so so much for the kind words, I hope you enjoy!!!

•

Jayce and Viktor are very understanding of your hypersensitivity. They never want to make you feel like a lab rat or test subject, but throughout your relationship they do take note of how loud is too loud and overwhelming for you. It’s because they care about you, of course

Viktor is especially understanding of it because he isn’t always too fond of touch. So he likes knowing your boundaries and how much is too much. They don’t walk on eggshells, but they do try to do everything as carefully and as quietly as possible. The last thing they want to do is trigger you and make you wince in pain at the volume

Jayce once slammed the front door of your apartment in frustration and immediately filled with guilt as his face drained of color. He saw you flinch and cover your ears and that man was in tears. He is just absolutely in love with you and the thought of causing you pain, even accidentally, just kills him inside. He always places his hands gently on your cheeks, peppering kisses on your forehead in apology

Viktor is mostly the same when it comes to accidentally making a loud noise. Sometimes his cane will fall to the floor making a loud bang which triggers it. Viktor likes giving you a tight hug as an apology as he whispers little things in your ear. He’s a bit of a mess as well, but he knows that accidents will happen and that you wouldn’t hate him for his lack of control over gravity

More often than not, Jayce and Viktor’s lab is filled to the brim with random loud noises. Sometimes they’re high-pitched beeps, other times the whirring of electricity, or the clanking of gears mashing inharmoniously together

(On those few days when your partners aren’t hectically fiddling around with their tools, they’re scribbling notes in their notebooks are bickering over equations scrawled across the blackboard. It may not be particularly peaceful, but it’s certainly more tame than testing out their latest idea involving the capabilities of hextech)

Because of this, your partners have a set of noise-cancelling headphones in the lab. Theyre your favorite color with little doodles in permanent marker that Viktor and Jayce once did when they hit a particular snag in their research. The headphones usually hang by the door so they’re within reach when you first enter the lab. If you ever forget them when you walk in, Jayce and Viktor remind you to grab them (usually accompanied by a little kiss on the temple if their hands aren’t full)

Additionally, Jayce and Viktor hold onto little earplugs with them. They’re always in their pockets, just in case. Your partners are very attentive and never want to be unprepared, especially when it comes to you

If there’s ever an exceptionally loud noise they always drop what they’re doing to find you. Even if they’re out in public, their priority is their partner. They’ll first make sure your ok before escorting you away from the source

If you prefer physical comfort like hugs, your partners will gladly oblige. You’ll sit in Jayce’s lap while he places kisses to the back of your head, his hands will rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin. Viktor will usually hold your face between his hands, amber eyes scanning over your figure, murmuring little endearments or encouragements to you

Never ever feel like a child or a burden because of this. These two are very supportive and happily drop everything for you. Your partners are so in love with you. They often try to improve the noise cancelling headphones for you, or find other ways to dampen loud noises. They find joy in helping you, just like you and Jayce want to find ways to make Viktor’s life with his leg easier and more enjoyable

•

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hxzbinwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI

A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.

The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.

"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.

"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.

In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.

"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.

"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.

"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.

"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."

You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.

Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.

"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."

"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.

"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.

You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.

"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.

"Your ex is fucking annoying."

You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.

Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.

He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.

"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"

He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.

He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.

"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"

"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.

"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.

"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"

"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.

You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.

"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.

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wandassweetheart · 5 months ago

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Rafe Cameron x it girl kook reader smut, she first gives him head telling him how lucky he is to have her then after he fucks her for being the brat she is

WHO’S THE LUCKY ONE?

pairing - rafe cameron x it girl!kook!reader

warning! - 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m receiving), sort of toxic idk??

a/n - genuinely need to be in between rafe’s manspread rn. GUYS I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH A LITERAL IDENTITY CRISIS AND MY MH HASNT BEEN FANTASTIC RECENTLY AND IM TRYING TO GET BACK ON TRACK OKAY?? I LOVE YOU ALL AND STAY HEALTHY AND HAPPY. credits to @thecutestgrotto for the divider!!

“you should be lucky that i’m even in between your legs right now,” you reminded him as you guided your head up and down his length at a painfully slow pace. as your hand palmed the bottom of his cock, rafe’s head tilted back with his lips softly parted open. eyes shut and everything, you were the only one who could make him feel that way. you bobbed your head along his solid shaft listening to the way you were turning him on with his quiet groans and the grip on your hair becoming tighter.

you came up with a little pop! before repeating, “you’re so lucky you have me”. you continued on whilst fisting his cock in the palm of your hand. “don’t think sofia could treat you this way,” you picked up the pace with your hand. “ah, shit!” rafe groaned your name out whilst tugging on your hair a little. “don’t gas yourself up yet, baby —shit. haven’t seen you take all of me in that proud mouth of yours.”

rafe jerks his cock forward into your mouth, which surprises you making your gag reflex surface. with a smirk, rafe cocks his head back and huffs out a laugh, “not so bratty when that mouth is put in good use, huh?” all you could do was look up at him pleadingly, you were still trying to adjust to the surprise of his length being invaded into your mouth. you could feel the drool starting to coat rafe’s dick and smear around your mouth.

“it’s no use for you to just stare up at me is it?” rafe muses, whilst grabbing your hair up and almost pushing and pulling you up his cock. “oh fuckk,” he groans with a light chuckle. the noises that cane out of your mouth were almost ridiculous, the squelching and the gagging —but it just felt so good and you felt so lucky. “i love how your mouth takes me so well, baby. let’s see how good your pussy does, hm?”

rafe pulls you up onto his couch, spreading your legs wide open. he forcefully tugs you towards him and leans down onto you, gripping your hips in place and carefully tracking soft bruises down to your entrance with his lips. slowly, he lifts his head up, towering over you with a small smirk on his face. he aligns his cock between your folds, sliding through the slick of your pussy— making you shiver a little.

as he pushes into to you with a groan you cant help but a let out an almost pornographic moan. “shiiit baby, you take me so well.” no matter how many times you and rafe fucked your pussy could just never get used to the stretch of his length. he steadied himself before rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, he bent down to press his front against yours. “what a brat for thinking you could talk to me like that,” his hand ran up to your breasts as if using them for support. he kneaded into them whilst you clawed and dug at his back, leaving red lines and scratches.

you arched your back whilst rafe was going absolutely animalistic into you. “who’s the lucky one?” he huffed out, slamming into you faster. you don’t say anything, still trying to focus on the pleasure that was possessing your body. “answer me or i won’t let you cum, who’s the lucky one?” you try to find your words and your throat is so sore from screaming. “m-me,” you squeak out, feeling a bruise starting to form from the way rafe was manhandling your breasts. “that’s right,” rafe breaths out before continuing, “good job, baby. you’re my smart girl, right?”

your body jolts from the sudden burst of satisfaction. “mhmm! rafe i’m gonna cum,” you lament, trying to hold back from losing total control of your body. “together, baby.” he ruts faster. “3…2… shit!” rafe hurriedly pulls out as he spurts his mess all over your stomach whilst you spasm beneath him, experiencing your high. your whole body feels numb as you catch your breath and rafe drops down next to you.

“you did so well, baby. never forget that you’re the one who’s lucky to have me.” he gives you a small kiss on the top of your head before engulfing you into his arms.

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deathbxnny · 7 months ago

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Hi I love your writing!! can I request headcanons of arcane characters if they’re s/o was blind??💕

Arcane characters with a s/o that's blind! | Ekko, Vi, Jinx, Viktor x Gn! Reader

I absolutely love this idea, so thank you very much for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: Reader is blind/visually impaired, romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》EKKO

He doesn't treat you any differently than anyone else, just based on your disability, but still does his best to make the hideout as accessible as possible for you. Ekko never wants you to feel like a burden either.

He definitely sometimes forgets that you're blind and asks your opinion on things he was looking at aa if you could see them too. He gets very embarrassed after realising, but you at least find it endearing.

Anyone who comments on your disability negatively will be dealt with. The last thing he wants is for you to feel bad about it when you should feel supported instead.

Allows you to touch his face or hair whenever you want, since that's the best way for you to visualize him. He'll shyly deny any compliments you give him but is deep down very flattered that you find him handsome even with your inability to see.

Since you can't fly a hover board on your own for obvious reasons, he often takes you on rides himself. He'll keep a tight hand around your waist whilst he enjoys the sight of you giggling and laughing in the evening sun with him.

》VI

God forbid anyone ever mistreats you or speaks badly about your disability because she won't hesitate to end them. You definitely have to hold her back at least once a day from putting someone 6 feet under.

With that said, she's extremely overprotective, perhaps near overbearing at times. She doesn't want you to accidentally get hurt or lost, especially when you're walking around Zaun.

She guides your fingers across her many tattoos, hoping you'll be able to visualize what they look like that way when you're curious about them. Vi is thankful that you can't see her red face.

She definitely also sometimes forgets your blind, which always ends up in a laughing fit for you. Hearing her embarrassed apologies always makes you feel so at ease about your disability.

》JINX

She was fascinated by you from day one. Something about you perceiving the terrible world she grew up in so differently drew her to you deeply. You couldn't see the flaws across her face and body or the shimmer that glowed in her eyes and ruined her from the inside. No, you saw her soul, and that's what made her love you.

Her hideout is practically baby proofed for you with special handrails and fences that protect you from accidentally falling off. It took her days to make, but seeing your excited face at the accessibility made it all worth it.

Jinx and Isha always hold your hand when walking around outside, as Zaun, just so you don't get lost or hurt.

Anyone who tries hurting or insulting you is as good as dead, so you never have to worry about a thing with her around.

》VIKTOR

He understands you better than anyone else due to his own disability. He never wants you to feel like he does and therefore makes sure you don't feel like a burden or discouraged by it.

Viktor makes many little inventions for you that help you around the house or in public. Whether it's for navigating the city safely or cooking up a meal completely on your own without incident, everything he does is for you to strengthen your sense of independence, since he knows you can't always rely on him.

He takes small walks around campus with you and describes your surroundings in great detail whilst holding onto your hand tightly.

Viktor also definitely likes to joke that you're matching whenever you both are out with a cane in hand. Hearing you giggle about it every time makes his day.

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spider-stark · 8 months ago

Text

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.”

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears.

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?”

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps.

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.”

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?”

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?”

“In my room.”

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs.

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he?

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy.

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection.

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around?

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one.

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.”

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out.

You almost snort. Clearly.

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable.

The others would like having him around.

You like having him around.

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?”

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth.

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.”

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out.

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.”

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

Probably because you are.

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist.

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come.

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.”

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea?

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door.

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.”

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night.

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion.

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic.

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you.

“Why?” you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?”

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping.

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks.

“Go downstairs.”

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.”

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.”

“What did you say when I came in?”

“Go downstairs.”

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!”

“Go. Down. Stairs.”

“Make me.”

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk.

“Do you know why I brought you in?”

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs.

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang.

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam.

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past.

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone.

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it.

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.”

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless.

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete.

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.”

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this.

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.”

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered.

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?”

It sounds stupid. It is stupid.

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way.

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought.

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you.

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away.

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?”

You blink. “What?”

“You heard me.”

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this?

“I don’t get what you’re asking.”

“Stop making me repeat myself.”

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?”

Shock. Confusion.

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something.

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.”

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?”

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in.

You’re not fucking him, though.

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.”

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting.

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.”

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension.

It was excitement. Anticipation.

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist.

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you.

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.”

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out.

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them.

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan.

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.”

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that.

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?”

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again.

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.”

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie!

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit.

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right?

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling.

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan.

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care?

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me.

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks.

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away.

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin.

Because you didn’t make me sick.

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks.

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t.

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious.

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows.

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before.

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots.

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said.

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time.

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.”

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine.

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.”

So you do.

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away.

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.”

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks.

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles.

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?”

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap.

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe.

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting.

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak.

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out.

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then?

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.”

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.”

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling.

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet.

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core.

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.”

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck.

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.”

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted?

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.”

The world grinds to a halt.

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists.

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?”

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half.

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me.

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed.

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give.

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more.

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

#kaz brekker imagine #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone imagine #s&b netflix #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone

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nanamiskentos · 26 days ago

Text

The first sign that something was off was the uncharacteristic silence. No footsteps, no grumblings of a medieval sorcerer wreaking havoc in the 21st century. Not even the crash of metal and cables to signify that SUKUNA had once again lost the fight to your little apartment's toaster, and resorted to eating the wiring.

"Sukuna?"

No answer either. That alone was enough to raise some alarm bells, for he was never this quiet.

You found him in the kitchen, crowded like an overgrown wildcat beside your cheap dining table, muttering to himself while trying to balance a massive bundle of wildflowers in one hand, and what looked like. . . a scroll?

You blink rapidly, "What, are you writing me a war declaration?"

Sukuna's russet eyes flick up, caught. His gruff expressions hardens, immediately defensive as if you had already accused him of something distasteful. Like that time you had hissed and scolded him for asking your local butcher for the freshest kills in the one and only time you had taken him grocery shopping with you.

Besides, how had he been aware that the meat merchant would have called the authorities on him? Didn't that puny man know that Sukuna singlehandedly vanquished the Emperor's army in Heian-Kyo, in the great summer of 794?

But now, Sukuna looks vaguely bored, "This is not for you."

You cross your arms, "Really? You're using my pens, I didn't even know you could read, let alone write."

Sukuna snarls, fingers tight around the very strained thin blue biro that promises to snap under the weight of his grasp, "It is an inferior modern implement."

"You're holding it upside down."

Sukuna scowls harder, and if you didn't know better and if you didn't have the King of Curses wrapped around your finger, you would assume he was trying to pin with you a glare to kill, "I was trying to surprise you."

"Oh my god, are you trying to be a romantic?" You're gaping, hand slapped over your mouth.

Sukuna stands up sharply, almost taking down your new light fixture from IKEA, as he snaps, "Trying? I am not trying. This is romantic. You're just too far removed from true elegance to understand."

"You put a dead pigeon next to the flowers."

"It is a symbolic offering."

"It's a health code violation, Sukuna."

"It shows my devotion."

"It shows I need to call pest control. You know that thing is a disease-carrier, right?"

Sukuna looks genuinely offended, "I went on a quest, woman. I climbbed your building's fire escape to gather the best wild herbs and flora that this macabre city has to offer –"

"That's a bunch of dandelions and one tulip."

"And a sprig of mint, you ungrateful fiend. I charmed the wise woman downstairs for her crops."

You think of your elderly downstairs neighbour, with her crabby attitude, sharp cane and stories of how things were so much better before the Soviets. You proceed to eye Sukuna with glistening, drooling stomach mouth, his four, thick arms, and ink winding over his face, "Somehow, I doubt that. Wait, what's that smell?"

Sukuna turns slowly, curtly giving you a look over his shoulder, "Nothing. Do not concern yourself."

Ah, but lo and behold. In the middle of your expensive non-stick pan, you eye a horribly charred steak, aggressively seasoned with cinnamon, soy sauce, and absurd helpings of instant coffee grounds.

"I heard women like food offerings during a courtship." And mind you, not a hint of shame in Sukuna's proud voice.

"This is what you nearly set my apartment on fire for?"

"Out of affection!"

Sukuna crosses all four arms, swathes of sheer muscle rippling as he does so, "Modern rituals are pointless. In my time, it was proper practice to compose poetry, and bring offerings. A verse beneath a maiden's window at night was a gift of the highest value."

"Is that why you were on my balcony yesterday, and I found a haiku written on spare receipts?"

Sukuna's withering frown deepens, carving into barely flushed skin, "You were the one complaining to that irritating friend of yours last week. How no-one ever does anything nice for you, and everyone has lovers but you. And you missed feeling chosen. So I chose you."

You ignore the traitorous thump! of your heart against your ribcage.

"And your friend, irritating, honestly with a voice like that, and a face so untrustworthy, how one even puts up with that is a question that I wonder at, and –"

"Sukuna."

"Your friend said that if a man does not appear with both flowers and adequate food, he is not serious nor worthy of one's time." Sukuna gestures, as one would point out to a child, to the botanical massacre and blackened meat, "I adapted."

Now your heart is doing traitorous, little twists.

"You're serious?"

Sukuna gives you a look that someone would give to an annoying bug buzzing around a room, bored and avoidant, but the choppy spikes of his blush-pink hair do little to hide the flush darkening on the tips of his ears, "I do not do things halfway."

"So the live cricket in the bouquet. . . ?"

"Represents vitality. Even the village oaf would know that."

You suddenly wonder whether you should flip the gas off from your still searing stove, sending plumes of blackened smoke to stick to your kitchen tiles, "Oh, fuck. My landlord is gonna' kill me."

Sukuna trails after you, a bite of anger in his voice, as he continues to prattle behind you like a large shadow, "What is a landlord? Why is another man lording your land? I am perfectly capable of agricultural management, I had an estate, you know."

NOTE: for the supreme sukuna-wife of my heart @creamflix ❤️

#i read a really good book on heian era japan and i also wanted to write something silly #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #jjk fluff #daphworks

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sweetheartspence · 2 months ago

Text

‧₊˚ whisked away - s.r. ‧₊˚

Spencer is infatuated with his new neighbor, who, he soon realizes, is a terrible baker.

pairing: spencer reid x neighbor!reader genre: fluff content: fem!reader, reader is a bit loud and out there, minor house fire, baking, glasses!spencer, mutual pining, eventual kissing wc: 3.3k a/n: been working on this between finals. reader is definitely a bit more reflective of me in this one but i'm actually pretty good at baking. my roommate was baking today and this was all i could think about requests/asks are open! my masterlist!!

Spencer's a busy guy, really. He doesn't spend too much time at home, at the one bedroom apartment that's covered wall to wall with bookshelves and papers. He likes his apartment well enough, and relishes in the afternoons that he's able to kick back and relax on his couch with a cup of coffee and some science theory book that's dog eared and creased on the corners. It doesn't happen too often, though; he's too busy running from city to city, from case to case, never slowing down.

Which is why he doesn't know what to do with himself, when he gets shot in the leg. He can get around his apartment just fine, but that's about it. Garcia and Morgan had kindly brought him some groceries, and he can cook himself a decent meal. He has plenty of books from the library, and a dozen academic journal articles in the works.

Even so, Spencer is... bored.

He's gotten used to the chase, to the hustle and bustle of the office, and he finds himself unable to focus on writing without the constant stream of profiler observations in the back of his mind.

It's somehow more exhausting than traveling for work. At least then he has something to distract himself, something to-

There's a knock on his door.

Spencer glances over to the front door, a sturdy, paneled piece of wood, with a little peephole. He's not expecting anyone, or else he would have maybe showered, or tried to make himself more presentable.

He picks up his cane, hobbling over to the door, opening it.

You're on the other side, scratching your arm absentmindedly, but you immediately brighten when he opens the door.

"Hi!" You grin, crossing one ankle over the other. "Um, sorry to bother you. I wasn't sure if you were home, you're usually not, but, um, your light was on. So I kind of figured..." You trail off for a second, staring into space.

Spencer takes this moment to study you. You're lovely, really, with bright eyes and a contagious smile, shifting your weight from foot to foot like you can't sit still. You've stopped scratching your arm, but you've switched to twisting a bracelet around your wrist, around, and around, and around. Your voice is soft and melodic, and granted, he hasn't seen very many people in the past few weeks. But he's immediately captivated.

"Oh, um, I live in 204." you tell him, your face scrunching up in a smile.

A neighbor, he muses. That makes a lot more sense. More sense than this beautiful girl just showing up at his apartment for no reason, anyway.

You look at him expectantly, like you're waiting for him to say something. "Oh," Spencer manages, offering a small smile. "Um, I live... here."

"That you do," you laugh, and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. He wants to bottle the sound, to play it as white noise, to turn it into liquid and drown in it. All he can do is stare.

"Oh!" You say, snapping your fingers. "I was wondering if you had a couple of eggs I could borrow." You pause, tilting your head. "Well, not borrow, I suppose. I won't be giving them back. To have. I'm making cookies, and I didn't realize that I'm short two, and now the dough is halfway made and I don't have the time to run to the store, and-"

Spencer wonders how you have the breath in your lungs to talk for this long. He's a little bit impressed, but also entirely bewildered.

"Yeah," he says softly, cutting you off. "I've got some you can have. Um, come in?"

He pushes the door open slightly wider, and you step into his apartment, looking around.

"Goddamn, you have a lot of books," you blurt, followed by a big smile. "Not that that's a bad thing, of course. I think it's cool."

Spencer gives you a hesitant smile. He's fascinated by you, sure, by your easy smiles and constant motion, but Spencer Reid is not one to let his guard down easily.

He pokes around in his fridge until he finds the eggs, and grabs two of them out of the carton. Spencer turns to find you studying the books lining his shelves, your hands clasped behind your back, uncharacteristically quiet for the few minutes that he's known you.

He comes up next to you, his cane clicking quietly on the hardwood floor. "I've got the eggs," he says softly, holding them out.

You smile at him again, but it's softer this time, shyer. "Thank you," you tell him, taking the eggs gently, and it's so earnest that his heart aches. "You've got good taste, by the way." You gesture to the books. "A bit eclectic, but... good."

Spencer doesn't know what to think. "Yeah," he says, intelligently. "I guess I have a lot of different tastes."

"Mm," you hum softly. "That can be a good thing."

You stare at the books for another couple of seconds, and then it's like an invisible finger has reached out and popped the bubble around the two of you. You shake your head, like you're getting rid of a thought, and offer him the same bright smile.

"Okay, I gotta get back to the dough. Thank you, though!" And with that, you've breezed out of his apartment, leaving him to wonder if you were ever really there.

It's about twenty minutes later that he realizes he didn't get your name.

---

Spencer is reading up on glucocorticoids for the dozenth time the next day, when the fire alarm goes off. He's snapped out of his academic haze, and he realizes he can smell something burning in the air. He winces, immediately reaching for a pair of headphones to cover his ears. He sticks a post it note into the book, setting it aside, and hurries to investigate.

There's smoke billowing out from under the door of apartment 204, and Spencer feels his heart drop. He bolts down the hallway, pausing outside the door to feel if there's heat seeping through. When the door is decidedly cool, he pounds on it, calling out. "Hey!"

You open the door, oven mitts over your hands and a crazed look in your eye. You have flour smudged across your face, and a similar streak on your shirt. "It's fine!" You assure him quickly. "It's fine. Nothing is on fire, the cookies are just..." You look helplessly towards the oven. "...burning."

"Well, get them out of the oven," Spencer retorts, hurrying into your apartment without being invited inside. He can hear sirens in the distance, the fire department rapidly approaching.

"Well, I would," you huff. "But I maybe accidentally dumped all of the cookies into the oven while I was trying to take the tray out, and now they're in the bottom of the oven, which is very hot, and they're burning."

"I noticed," Spencer mutters, waving his hand in front of his face. His glasses have clouded up from the smoke, and he takes them off and tucks them in the breast pocket of his button-up.

He leans closer to the oven to look, and is rewarded by a lungful of smoke. Spencer coughs, covering his mouth and nose with his elbow. "You haven't even turned the oven off," he tells you, his tone a little harsher than he intended.

"I was going to!" You protest. "But then you knocked on the door, and-"

You break off into a little fit of coughs, and Spencer gives you a little glare, mumbling something about fire safety and the hazards of smoke. He clicks the oven off, and takes you by the elbow, steering you out of the apartment. "We gotta go."

"But the cookies-" you start, and Spencer fixes you with a look.

"Are burnt," he finishes. "Unsalvageable. All you're doing by staying here is putting more smoke into your lungs, which leads to debris buildup in your airway and asphyxiation. Not to mention decreased blood flow, which can cause angina and stroke, plus all the carbon monoxide is sure to make you sick."

The hurt expression on your face has shifted, replaced with surprise. "You- how do you know all of that?"

"I know a lot of things," Spencer mutters, tugging insistently on your elbow. "We're getting out. Now."

There's no room in his tone for argument, and you sigh, letting him lead you out of your apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. Sirens wail, and a fire engine comes into sight, lights blazing. It takes Spencer longer than it should for him to realize he's still holding onto your elbow, and he lets go as the firefighters come over to talk to the two of you. He lets you take the reigns, leaning back against the wall.

You recount the story loudly and animatedly, waving your arms wildly and making a few explosion sound effects that Spencer thinks were not necessary. They are, however, horribly endearing, and Spencer finds himself sporting the same amused expression as the firefighters.

By the time the whole debacle is over, Spencer has wasted an entire afternoon standing around with you on the edge of the curb next to his apartment building. Usually, he'd be annoyed.

This time, he can't quite find it in him to care.

---

There's a box of cookies delivered to his door that evening, with a little card. It says, "Thanks for the help. Here's some cookies- I didn't make these ones, don't worry."

And it's signed with your name.

Spencer turns your name over and over in his mind, tracing the letters with a fingertip into the fabric of his pants. He's not even quite aware that he's doing it, completely caught up in the book that he's reading. But it nags in his subconscious, ever present.

He hangs the little card on his fridge with a magnet.

---

The third interaction he has with you is in the coffee shop on the corner. You're sitting with your friends, giggling about god knows what, and the light is coming through the window just right to make your eyes shine. Spencer is sure he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

The two of you aren't friends, per se. Spencer wonders for a brief moment if he should say hello, greet you or something, but he doesn't think you're quite at that stage of your relationship. You're just neighbors, after all.

Spencer orders his coffee, making his way to the other end of the counter to wait for it. You're completely engrossed in your conversation with your friends, not even looking up from the discussion.

"No, he looked at me, and he was kind of mad that I was still in the apartment while the cookies were burning, and I swear I swooned," you're saying. Spencer doesn't really mean to eavesdrop, but your voice is quite loud, and- are you talking about him?

"What, and then he dragged you out of the apartment?" Your friend asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically. "I had to deal with the firefighters. I was gonna thank him, but he was gone when I was done." You sound wistful, almost, your tone softer.

"Listen to her," another one of your friends snickers. "She's smitten."

"Am not!" You protest, your tone defensive. Spencer's heart sinks. "He was just... there. And he's pretty, sure, but that doesn't mean-"

"Oh, she thinks he's pretty," your friend crows, laughing. "C'mon, babe, I haven't seen you talk this much about someone in ages, and you've barely talked to the guy."

You huff, sitting back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't have a crush on him."

Your friends both raise their eyebrows, leaning forward. "Yeah? We never said you had a crush on him," they tease. "Even though you definitely do."

"Hey, that's not-" you start, but your friends cut you off.

"Yeah, she definitely likes him," one of them giggles.

"Absolutely," the other one chimes in. "Even if someone doesn't want to admit it to herself."

"What's your Prince Charming look like, anyway?" The first one teases.

You sigh, but there's a smile pulling at your lips. "Tall," you say softly. "Kind of like, a tortured academic vibe. Seems like he knows a lot, but also clueless somehow."

Spencer's brow creases, feeling slightly offended.

"Big brown eyes and curly dark hair," you smile. "Like, a huge dork."

"Look how smiley she is," your friends giggle.

Before you can protest, the barista calls Spencer's name, and he startles to attention. He takes the coffee, thanking them, and turns around.

You're staring at him, mouth agape, cheeks slightly flushed. You give him a tiny wave.

Spencer can feel his own face start to heat up, and he gives you a nod of acknowledgement, a smile that comes out more like a grimace, and a little wave in return, before bolting out of the coffee shop.

There's two thoughts on his mind. First, that you like him. Second of all, what is he going to do about it?

---

Spencer has a plan. It's foolproof, really, and he internally congratulates himself for being so clever.

You're a terrible baker, as he's gathered. And he's... not the best, but certainly better than you, and besides, baking is just science, isn't it? He can hold his own in a kitchen.

He has ingredients for a solid batch of chocolate chip cookies, tucked away into the cupboards of his kitchen. Spencer pulls out a little sheet of paper, scribbling a note down to slip under your door in his chicken scratch handwriting.

Craving cookies. Could use an assistant. 8 pm, if you're interested. - 205.

Spencer is desperately hoping you're interested.

---

There's a knock on his door at 8:02. Spencer's pacing his kitchen, his hair rumpled from running his hands through it, and he quickly makes his way to the door, flinging it open.

"You came," he says, looking you up and down, his gaze flickering to your mouth for a moment.

"You invited me," you shoot back, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

"I did," Spencer agrees, leaning against the doorframe. "You still came, though."

"I did," you repeat, giving a little nod. You look pleased with yourself. "Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna stand in your doorway, or...?"

Spencer realizes he hasn't exactly invited you in, and hurries to rectify that. "Yeah, um, of course," he says, stepping out of the doorway and into his apartment. You follow him, your hands clasped in front of you, following him to the kitchen. You push your sleeves up, past your elbows, freeing your hands.

"Do you have a recipe, or are we winging this?" You grin, and Spencer realizes that it might have been a monumentally bad idea to invite you over to bake.

He blinks owlishly at you from behind his glasses. "Well, of course we're going to use a recipe," he says, affronted. You roll your eyes.

"Well, I usually don't, but okay," you mumble under your breath, setting about pulling bowls and ingredients out like you own the place. Spencer likes the look of you in his kitchen, moving about. It's domestic. Intimate in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Well, what happened last time you tried to bake without a recipe?" He teases, shooting you a slightly lopsided smile at you, before following your lead in rolling up his sleeves. You can't help but shoot a look at his exposed forearms that lasts maybe slightly too long.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, continuing to pull open drawers. "Where on earth do you keep your whisks?"

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh at your petulance, coming up behind you and placing a gentle hand on your waist. Your breath catches. He nudges you to the side, pulling open the drawer you were standing in front of, and pulling out the whisk.

"Yeah, yup, okay, thank you," you stutter out, your cheeks flushed from his hand placement. The corner of Spencer's mouth lifts.

The baking goes smoothly for about five minutes, in which you've managed to get eggs, sugar, brown sugar, and butter into a mixing bowl, and Spencer is whisking it together. You set a container of salt down next to the mixing bowl, peering over his shoulder.

"Damn, that looks a lot better than my dough," you mumble, your nose wrinkling. Spencer can't tell if you're impressed or embarrassed, or maybe annoyed at him for being better than you at baking.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you use a recipe," he retorts, shooting you a look that says I told you so.

You're still grumbling under your breath as you pull out the flour.

Spencer turns to look at you, and is greeted with a finger swiping across his cheek. He blinks, and then realizes you're holding the open bag of flour, a mischievous look on your face. He reaches up to touch his face, and surely enough, his fingertips come away stained with flour.

"You got flour on me," he deadpans.

"I did," you agree, letting out a giggle. "And I'm gonna do it again."

You flick more flour at him, getting it on his nose and his shirt, and he can't help but laugh, making a grab for the back of flour. Spencer grabs it from you, grabbing a handful to toss at you, and you shriek, giggling uncontrollably.

"Not fair," you laugh, trying to grab the bag back, and Spencer holds it high over your head. He's got a couple of inches on you.

"Is too fair," he shoots back, grinning. "You started it."

You jump, trying to grab onto the corner of the bag, but Spencer holds it just out of reach. You suddenly realize how close he is to you, his honey brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

You flush, backing away, your back to the counter. "Yeah, I suppose I did," you admit. "Sorry."

Spencer takes a step closer, boxing you in against the countertop, feeling especially brave. "You don't look very sorry," he murmurs.

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "You're... uh, very close to me," you whisper.

"I am," Spencer agrees. There's flecks of flour in your eyelashes, splayed out onto your cheeks like freckles. "Would you like me to move?"

You shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off of his.

"I heard you talking in the coffee shop," he says softly. "You were talking about me, to your friends. You think I'm pretty."

You start to make a noise of protest, to explain it away, but he cuts you off with a gentle hand on your waist. His eyes bore into yours.

"Do you still think I'm pretty?" Spencer murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

That's all the invitation you need, and then your lips are on his, your arms coming up to wind around his neck. Your fingers slide into his hair, curling into the bits around the nape of his neck, and you've never been so happy to have been overheard in your life.

His tongue traces against your lower lip, making a soft, desperate, needy noise in the back of his throat. Spencer suddenly grips your hips, picking you up and setting you gently on the counter with surprising ease.

You make a surprised noise against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding it just under your lip. One of his hands move to the small of your back, settling there, and the other to your thigh, holding you in place.

You lean back just a bit more, knocking into the salt, which spills all over the counter and into the cookie dough. Your lips disconnect from his with a wet pop, and Spencer stares down at the dough, his lips glistening with spit and slightly swollen.

You swear under your breath, shifting on the counter, moving to get off, but Spencer holds you in place.

"I'm sorry I ruined the dough," you whisper.

"S'okay," Spencer murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours. "I didn't really care about the cookies."

You laugh, leaning back in, your lips finding his again.

It's safe to say that there were no cookies baked that evening.

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