Can someone write tav as someone who never thinks what they do is enough, and it's bled into them that maybe they themselves aren't enough and when Gale chose to become a higher power they start crying to him on how to be better and they spend the rest of their life thinking they weren't enough for someone to stay
Katsuki bakugou, who would rather die than let you open doors, any door for that matter. The car door? Will remain locked until you let him open it for you.
Rikido sato, who will forever bake you treats, doesn't matter what time of day OR NIGHT it is, he is always down for doing stuff for you, especially if it's lunch, it's his fave. Can and will sneak a taste from your lips tho!!
Eijiro kirishima, will carry you wherever you want. Your feet hurt from heels? Or just hurting in general? Will pick you up like a princess/bridal style and carry you wherever you need to be. And NO. HE DOESNT GET TIRED !!!
Tenya iida, who will forever be a gentleman and offer you his coats. Will spray cologne on them before going into the public bc he knows you like his cologne bc it smells like him, and something just snaps inside of him when you smile up at him with those big ole eyes of yours :)
Izuku midoriya who never shies away from pda, even if he's flustered out of his mind? He'll bear it if it doesn't make you overthink your position as his s/o, although you might like his comforting methods if ykwim 🤤
Shoto todoroki who is the prettiest man in the world, will never fail to give you fresh flowers with love letters in them, always starting off with "My love, my one and only," and he always leaves a voice-mail for you to make sure you got them
Hanta sero who always makes sure he has a hand on you, it may be him just being possessive, but he just LOVES the feeling of your pudge under his hands. He can't get enough of it—he can't get enough of you for that matter
Atsumu Miya who refuses at shying away from PDA, making sure no one's either giving you the side eye out of jealousy or giving you fuck me eyes because you belong to the one (not only bc of samu don't tell him tho) and only Miya Atsumu
Testurou Kuroo who makes sure he's dressed up to the nines everytime you guys go on a date, it may not be much but in his eyes, actions speak louder than words. And the way you can't help but stare at him in a suit really boosts his somewhat inflated ego
Koutaro Bokuto who is more than able to show off his strength, spikes really hard and usually it's the winning hit, which has you cheering for him in the stands, always and forever points to you and blows you a kiss whenever he does a winning shot
Daichi Sawamura who never fails to constantly have a hand on you, and the way he does makes others think you're already married!! Always opening up the door, and saying "let me get that for you, sweetheart."
Ryunosuke Tanaka who pretty much worships the ground you walk on, who never hesitates to spoil you, with his black card in your hands and him winking at you, which is his way of saying "go crazy wit it", the Tanaka who always makes sure you have a mark on you before you go meet with your guy friends
Yuu Nishinoya who never fails to make you laugh and live in luxury while traveling the world. Whatever you want? You'll get and you best bet he has connections all over the world, literally and figuratively, the same nishinoya who also makes you feel like you're back in high-school again with all the butterflies in your stomach whenever he kisses you
Kentaro Kyotani who is literally mean to everyone except his family and you, who always makes sure you eat breakfast with him, who is more than willing to bend backwards for your comfort, who will fight the world, the sun, anything for you, and you alone. The same kyotani who can't help the heat in his pants whenever you look at him with your gorgeous smile.
Kei Tsukishima who is also mean to everyone but makes sure you're never offended at his harsh remarks, who always kisses you afterwards to soften the blow of his words. Who's sun-kissed skin is always flushing harder whenever your body grazes his, who always uses the excuse that his glasses are dirty and must clean them to look away because you have him flustered. Again.
I need requests!! All of my requests in my inbox rn WILL be deleted so I can start fresh!! I am multi fandom!! So if you're curious abt which fandoms I'm in you can come into my inbox and ask and later I'll make a list of which fandoms I write for!!!
Twst Boys when you whine when they have to get up and leave — Housewardens
「Excluding pomefiore, Ignihyde, and diasomnia, I just started pomefiore and don't know their personalities」
Author's note ; works will be done with a gn!reader, and if you have suggestions please leave some in my inbox!! And I'll use them so pls talk to me ppl
M.list
Warnings ; suggestive (?) In Kalims :) 18+/DC/MDNI blogs may like but DNI/REBLOG/OR FOLLOW ME
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Riddle Rosehearts ♡
Felt his heart squeeze when he woke up with his daily nap with you, he agreed to naps when he first took one with you
It proved very much beneficial !!!
Riddle woke with you on top of him, your arms around his neck, and your face on his collarbone
Which is what woke him up, because your breath on his neck made his cheeks heat up at the intimacy, because truth be told, he never thought he would get this far with you
He checked the time on the clock to his right, and his breath stopped, realizing it's already late, and he hasn't done any of his assignments !!!
He looks at you however, and his heart squeezed at the peaceful sight of you. And when he tried to get up, you whimpered, your arms tightened around his neck as you face nuzzled into his collarbone
He had to cover his mouth before he cried out "ily" iykwim
"Riddle... please stay, I wanna stay here with you." You pouted at him trying to get up, he had to take multiple breaths before he can even say something.
He pet your hair to soothe you, butter you up if you will.
"My rose, I have to get up, we have to study for the potionology exam on Thursday, Crewel doesn't let a failing grade slide, remember?"
You pouted again, albeit getting up, you peck Riddle on the nose
"Drink tea with me Riddle?"
"Of course" ♡
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Leona Kingscholar ⚔︎
Gets annoyed whenever someone whines, like Ruggie, but he can't help his tail from suddenly wrapping around your waist to soothe you
He kisses the crown of your head when you snuggle up to him, and he tries to get you to keep resting while he actually has to go to class bc he's going to fail a third time if he doesn't go to class
"Leona? Where ya goin'?" The way you slurred your words made him wanna make you his queen
But that's for another time
"Hey herbivore, sorry but I gotta go. Don't want me to fail a third time, dontcha?"
"But leona, I barely see you anymore." The way your voice got quieter made him realize that it's true, he hasn't seen you for a while because he's actually picked up some slack in his classes
Takes your hands and kisses them, before he picks you up, bridal style. Which never failed to bring heat to your cheeks
"Leona? What're you doing? You have to go to class right?"
"Yeah but Trein's class is boring as hell, I can go to class, and you can still be with me."
"But he'll yell at me for sleeping in his class"
"Then he'll kick us out, which is the point."
"Leona? Are you sure?"
"Tryna get me to skip for you herbivore?"
The way he looks down at you, makes your eye contact waver at the sudden intensity of his eyes
"That's what I thought herbivore."
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Azul Ashengrotto ♆
Feels himself freeze for the umpteenth time as you move around in your sleep
You guys were cuddled up in his dorm room, his safe haven when he's with you
You guys where face to face, him having his arms around your waist as your hands are bunched up on his shirt, which is unusual because he's usually in his business attire
He checked the clock and realized his shift is in twenty minutes and this nap was more than 2 hours like you promised
You liar
♡
However you tried to move to a more comfortable position, and he tried to get up,
"'Zul? Love where ya goin'?" You slurred, rubbing sleep from your slightly puffy eyes.
He was going to cry omg cry baby alert
He kissed your forehead, albeit shaky because he's still new to this love thing
"Sweetheart, unfortunately I have to go, deals don't write themselves out now do they?"
"But baby!! Work is taking you away from me... I barely have time to even say hi to you when you're working."
The way your voice got quieter and quieter was making his heart squeeze. You really have him wrapped around your finger (ring finger)
You quite literally took his heart in both hands and squeezed because he wants to bury you in flurries of kisses but he's frozen because he doesn't know how and doesn't know if it's appropriate or not
But he understands that work is indeed time consuming, and he has def not seen you that much lately and he doesn't like that at all
He'll have to confer with the Tweels about work hours and how they can be reduced, yet prove to be beneficial either way
"Darling, I'll work something out, don't you fret your pretty head about it, lemme get dressed, work starts in a few minutes and I am far from presentable."
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kalim Al-Asim ♫
Did NOT want to leave either but Jamil is on his case and if you want ur bf to live then I suggest you let him get up 💀💀
Peppers your face in kisses because he can't stop himself:(((
"Kalim? Can we gave five more minutes please..." He pouts >:((
"I wish my gem, but I really have to go, unless you want Jamil on your case too!!"
"Jamil this, Jamil that, he's taking you away from me, I barely saw you at all this entire week Kal," you pointed out as you sat up, bringing Kalim up with you
He thinks about it while stretching from his phat nap with you, and nods in agreement
"Yeah, he has, but I've been seriously been improving academically, and we both promised each other we wouldn't hold back."
You thought to yourself different ways you could keep Kalim to yourself
"What if..." You press a kiss to the juncture of his neck, feeling his breath hitch and a small gasp leave his lips
"...I convinced you to stay?"
You pressed another kiss, teasingly sucking a little, which has him grabbing your hips and pulling you away from him. He had a beautiful flush against his skin, and you see hid lips parted, aware of his lips being dry he licks them
"You're a dangerous one Y/n..."
"Kalim! Please..."
He thinks to himself and throws himself at you
Jamil is now on your case too </3
《 SUPER !! 》
18+/DC/MDNI blogs may like but DNI/REBLOG/OR FOLLOW ME
Katsuki bakugou, who would rather die than let you open doors, any door for that matter. The car door? Will remain locked until you let him open it for you.
Rikido sato, who will forever bake you treats, doesn't matter what time of day OR NIGHT it is, he is always down for doing stuff for you, especially if it's lunch, it's his fave. Can and will sneak a taste from your lips tho!!
Eijiro kirishima, will carry you wherever you want. Your feet hurt from heels? Or just hurting in general? Will pick you up like a princess/bridal style and carry you wherever you need to be. And NO. HE DOESNT GET TIRED !!!
Tenya iida, who will forever be a gentleman and offer you his coats. Will spray cologne on them before going into the public bc he knows you like his cologne bc it smells like him, and something just snaps inside of him when you smile up at him with those big ole eyes of yours :)
Izuku midoriya who never shies away from pda, even if he's flustered out of his mind? He'll bear it if it doesn't make you overthink your position as his s/o, although you might like his comforting methods if ykwim 🤤
Shoto todoroki who is the prettiest man in the world, will never fail to give you fresh flowers with love letters in them, always starting off with "My love, my one and only," and he always leaves a voice-mail for you to make sure you got them
Hanta sero who always makes sure he has a hand on you, it may be him just being possessive, but he just LOVES the feeling of your pudge under his hands. He can't get enough of it—he can't get enough of you for that matter
your gait had started to resemble one of a penguin.
it wasn’t your fault really, carrying the king of curses’s spawn was no easy task.
but the fact still stood.
almost full term, your belly had grown round swollen with child, your cravings and moods heightened to very much their peak.
the worst of all were the body aches.
well it sufficed to say that your four-armed husband was not having it. the moment you came into his life he’d dismissed all other concubines, his eyes set on you. marriage ceremonies another right of passage long done and dusted.
“you have four arms my lord, why not put them to use?” you’d suggested one quiet evening.
so now here you lay with sukuna massaging your lower body.
seriously, he thought, is this what his reign of terror had succumbed to? as he rubbed his palm against your feet. your satisfied moans reached his ears, un-admittedly motivating him further in the act.
he’d do anything for you, if you’d only so ask.
finally relaxed, you twirl your hair with one finger and look over to the bowl of grapes set aside by the maids right next to your bed.
“my lord” you call sukuna and receive a hum in response.
“the grapes look delicious” you smile cheekily at him, eyes twinkling with mischief.
sukuna looks at you long and hard, amazed at your boldness. suggesting that he shall feed you, what are servants for then?
he opens his mouth, the motion as if to beckon a servant over but pauses when your face contorts into a pouty frown.
he knows what you want. and he abides.
two of his arms continue working on your foot and leg while the other two reach forward to pluck a grape and feed it to you. you lick your lips relishing the taste.
“it’s not for me, you know” you add “it’s for her”
“her?”
sukuna leans forward to wipe some grape juice off of the side of your face, with his hand-mouth which certainly never failed to amaze you.
“i have a hunch, that she’s a girl” you gesture towards your belly.
“it will be a boy” sukuna says, his tone final.
you pause, a hint of insecurity lacing your voice.
“what-what if it’s a girl?” you cringe when you hear your own voice crack.
silence. no remark from sukuna.
and then a low, very low grumble, almost missable for the untrained ear.
“i wouldn’t know what to do…”
however, you don’t miss it, “do explain,” you urge.
“a man, an..abomination like myself doesn’t deserve a daughter, i wouldn’t know what to do with myself or her” you feel a rush of such adoration flow through you at his sincere concern.
you’d assured him he would be a great father but he refused, stubborn as ever, never budging.
a month later when you welcomed a baby girl into the world, with the same raging hair as her father and a temper much like his own, no one not even you held onto her tighter than sukuna.
your husband, held your daughter like she was a petal, so fragile and precious, as he muttered curses towards the poor servants that were just trying to help and the mid-wife that got too close.
you could’ve sworn you saw a pearly sheen to his eyes, but gods forbid you kept that to yourself.
firefly; little bit of this, little bit of that ahh drabble i’m so sorry if this is bad #forgiveme
A/N : hi send requests in my inbox plsplsplplsplpslspls... thanks
Whenever he’s in the kitchen baking tarts for Riddle or whipping up pastries just because, he always brings you with him. And no matter what he makes, you’re given the very first bite. It’s his quiet way of spoiling you, of saying ‘I love you’ without ever needing to put it into words.
Whenever he notices you feeling down, he quietly bakes your favorite pastry and leaves it on your desk, accompanied by a small note saying ‘A little something for you sweets, I love you.’ Little red hearts surrounding it. A simple gesture filled with more care than he could ever say out loud.
Everyone knows Trey can’t help but flash that cocky grin of his from time to time—but you, of course, know exactly how to shut him up. The second you settle onto his lap or pull him down so his head rests in your lap and start running your fingers through his hair, he completely melts. His smugness evaporates, replaced by that helpless, soft expression he tries so hard to hide.
He loves nights where the wind whispers outside and the room feels full of nothing but the two of you. You’re sprawled across him, head resting on his chest, while his hands trace gentle patterns along your back. When sleep begins to engulf you, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring words like “Good night, sweets,” before letting himself drift to sleep, still holding you close.
Trey isn’t the type to raise his voice—he rarely ever needs to. But the moment someone so much as speaks to you with disrespect, his whole demeanor shifts. He goes quiet, still. That calm, icy kind of protective. All it takes is him stepping in with a low, steady, “Hey, how about we tone it down, yeah?” for the person to freeze and backtrack immediately. Trey may be gentle, but when it comes to you? He does NOT play.
Whenever life starts weighing on Trey, when everything feels too heavy, too suffocating—you’re the first place he goes to. To him, you’re home, the one thing that grounds him when the world stops making sense. He finds you and melts, burying his face in the curve of your neck. His arms slip around your waist, holding you tight as he breathes you in, his voice low and worn as he mutters, “Baby, don’t let go, okay? I just need you for a moment.”
Whenever he’s baking, he always makes a show of rolling his sleeves up deliberately. He knows exactly what it does to you. He pretends it’s just to keep his uniform clean, but the way he subtly tenses and flexes his forearms while mixing a bowl of frosting says otherwise. Every flex of his biceps is practically staged, and he definitely catches the way your eyes stick to him. The tiny smirk tugging at his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. And when you finally look away, flustered, he only chuckles under his breath like, “Mm? Something wrong, sweets?” HE KNOWS DAMN WELL WHAT HE’S DOINGG
Whenever Trey gets into a mood, he’ll swipe a bit of frosting onto his tongue and lean in without warning. Pressing a sugary kiss against your lips so you get a taste straight from him. The moment you pull back, flustered, he just tilts his head with that infuriatingly smug smile and asks, “So? How’s it taste?,” his tone dripping with tease. And when you smack his arm for being ridiculous, he only laughs, utterly unbothered, before going right back to baking as if you didn’t just short-circuit because of him.
He’ll never admit it out loud, but he adores your body in a way that leaves him quietly spellbound. Not even in a dirty way, he’s just deeply, helplessly captivated. Every curve, every little dip, the way your hips sway when you walk—he notices it all. And it drives him insane. When you two cuddle, it’s almost instinctual how his hands roam your body.
the sun filters through the paper screens in lazy golden streaks, painting the tatami in soft patterns that look almost like spilled sake. you kneel on a cushion that's seen better centuries, adjusting the layers of your jūnihitoe—silk upon silk upon silk, colors chosen because sukuna once grunted that the pale pink reminded him of fresh entrails. romantic, in his way.
"woman," his voice rumbles from the low platform where he sprawls like a particularly lazy mountain. four arms, two faces, tattoos crawling over skin like living ink. he's wearing that ridiculous white robe again, open at the chest because why not? "fetch the brush. the one made from fox bone."
you blink. "the fox bone one? you used it to pick your teeth last week."
he cracks one eye open—the lower one on the second face, because of course it's the creepy one that wakes up first. "precisely. it has character now."
you sigh, the sound lost under the weight of approximately eight kilograms of silk, and shuffle over to the lacquered box. the brush is there, stained, looking vaguely judgmental. you hand it over without comment.
sukuna takes it with his lower left hand, twirls it once, then uses it to scratch behind one ear like a very large, very dangerous cat. "better."
you're his only concubine left. the others... well. he got a little hungry last month. the court ladies whispered about it for months until he ate the whisperers too. now the halls are quiet. too quiet, sometimes. but he keeps you around because, as he puts it, "you don't bore me to immediate death, woman."
high praise.
he yawns—wide, showing too many teeth—and stretches all four arms at once. the room seems to shrink. "nap time. unsleep me in an hour. or two. whenever the sun moves enough that it's annoying."
you tilt your head. "unslee— what??"
"unsleep me." he says it like it's obvious, already closing his eyes. both sets.
"un... sleep you?" you repeat slowly. the word feels wrong in your mouth, like chewing on poetry written backward.
he doesn't open his eyes. "yes. unsleep. poke me. sing. recite bad poetry. threaten to leave. i care not. just make the boredom stop."
you stare at the ceiling beams for a long moment. "that's not a word."
"it is now." a lazy smirk curls across the mouth on his stomach. creepy bastard. "you're clever. invent it properly if you must."
you consider inventing several new words involving sharp objects and his anatomy, but decide against it. instead you settle beside him, careful not to disturb the careful arrangement of his limbs. he naps like he fights—like everything might explode if you breathe wrong.
an hour passes. maybe two. the incense has burned low, smelling faintly of sandalwood and charred dreams. you lean over, poke his shoulder with one finger.
nothing.
you poke harder.
a grumble.
"woman. that was pathetic."
"you said poke."
"i said unsleep. put effort into it."
you roll your eyes so hard you nearly see last week's dinner. then, because why not, you lean in close to the ear on his right face—the one that actually listens sometimes—and whisper, "the kitchen just received fresh river fish. the kind you like to eat raw while complaining it's not human enough."
one eye snaps open. "you lie."
"maybe." you shrug, silk rustling. "but now you're awake. congratulations. you're unslept."
he stares at you for a long beat. then the stomach mouth laughs—low, rolling thunder. "you're insufferable."
"you're welcome."
he sits up slowly, joints popping like dry branches. "feed me."
"you ate the last cook. and uraume's busy"
"then cook."
"i'm a concubine, not a scullery maid."
"you're whatever i say you are today." but there's no heat in it. just that odd, lazy amusement he reserves for you alone.
you stand—gracefully, because layers—and pad toward the low table where servants used to leave trays before they learned better. there's rice, pickled radish, some grilled eel that looks suspiciously like it fought back. you arrange it with the care of someone who knows refusal means becoming dessert.
sukuna watches, chin propped on one fist, another hand idly tracing patterns on the tatami. "you move like you're plotting murder."
"only on mondays."
he snorts. "good. keep that spirit. dull women get eaten faster."
you set the tray before him. "eat. before i decide you're the dull one."
he picks up a piece of eel with two fingers, examines it like it's an ancient scroll, then pops it into the stomach mouth. the main face chews something else. multitasking cannibalism. charming.
"tell me something amusing," he says around a mouthful.
you sit across from him, knees tucked properly because court manners die hard. "the fujiwara sent another poem this morning. something about cherry blossoms and fleeting life."
sukuna's upper lip curls. "and?"
"i burned it. the ink smelled like cowardice."
he barks a laugh—genuine this time. "that's my woman."
not lover. not wife. just woman. possessive in that ancient, casual way of his. like claiming the sky claims clouds.
you watch him eat. it's oddly mesmerizing—terrifying and mundane at once. when he's done he licks his fingers, all four hands moving in sync, then leans back.
"bored."
"already?"
"entertain me."
you consider. poetry? music? dance? all the things concubines of normal men are supposed to do. but ryomen sukuna was anything but normal.
instead you say, "arm wrestle me."
he blinks—all four eyes in sequence. "what."
"arm wrestle. you have four. i'll use both of mine on one of yours. fair odds."
he stares like you've suggested he become a monk.
then he grins. wide. dangerous. delighted.
"very well."
you kneel closer. he extends his lower right arm—thick, corded, tattooed. you grip it with both hands. his skin is warm. too warm. like holding a furnace.
"ready?" you ask.
"begin when you cease stalling."
you pull.
nothing happens.
you pull harder.
his arm doesn't budge. but his mouth—the stomach one—starts laughing again.
"pathetic," he says fondly.
"cheater," you grunt, leaning your whole body weight.
slowly—very slowly—he lets his arm move. inch by inch. like indulging a child. when your hands hit the mat he releases suddenly, sending you sprawling backward into silk pillows.
"i win," he announces.
"you let me win the losing part."
"semantics."
you sit up, hair falling out of its pins in dark rivers. heian beauty standards demand long hair, pale skin, mystery. you look like a disheveled crow spirit.
he reaches out—one hand cups your chin, thumb brushing your lower lip. "you amuse me."
"high praise from the king of curses."
"don't get used to it." but his grip is gentle. oddly gentle.
you lean into it anyway. "nap again?"
"perhaps." he pulls you closer until you're half in his lap, silk tangling with his robe. "but first—unsleep protocol."
"what?"
"if i doze, you have permission to bite me awake."
"bite?"
"teeth. preferably neck. make it interesting."
you stare. "you're deranged."
"and you're still here."
true enough.
the afternoon drags into evening. incense smoke curls like lazy ghosts. sukuna dozes—eventually—head tipped back, mouths slack. you wait the required hour (or two), then lean in.
hesitate.
then gently—very gently—nip the skin at the base of his throat.
his eyes snap open. all of them.
"woman," he growls, but it's amused. hungry in a different way.
"unslept," you say primly.
he pulls you flush against him. "good girl."
outside, the capital hums with poetry and politics and fragile human schemes. inside, it's just you and the monster who ate everyone else because they weren't interesting enough to keep.
and somehow—you're still here. still sassing him. still alive.
he calls you woman like it's a title.
you call him idiot when he's being particularly dense.
and somehow, in the golden haze of heian-kyō, that's enough.
the next morning—or what passes for morning when the king of curses decides time is optional—you wake to him staring at you. intently. like you're a puzzle he hasn't solved yet.
"what?" you mumble, rubbing sleep from your eyes.
"you snore."
"i do not."
"like a small angry boar."
"charming."
he smirks. "i like it. keeps things lively."
you throw a pillow at him. it bounces off his chest harmlessly. he catches it, tosses it back—harder.
you roll your eyes. get up. start the ritual of layering silk again because apparently even monsters appreciate aesthetics.
"today," he announces, stretching, "we visit the gardens."
"the ones you set on fire last month?"
"new ones grew back. nature fears me."
"everything fears you."
"except you." he says it casually. too casually.
you pause mid-knot. "someone has to keep you humble."
he laughs—low, rolling. "foolish woman."
"arrogant curse."
he stands. towers. offers a hand—two, actually. "come."
you take them. because why not.
the gardens are quiet. rebuilt with eerie speed. lotus ponds reflect sky like mirrors. cherry trees pretend nothing happened.
sukuna walks beside you—slow, for once. no stomping. no destruction.
"peaceful," you note.
"boring," he counters.
"you could destroy it again."
"tempting." he glances sideways. "but then you'd scold me."
"damn right."
he chuckles. "stay interesting, woman. or..."
"or you'll eat me?"
"no." quieter now. "i'd miss the scolding."
you stop. look up at him—all four eyes, all that power, focused entirely on you.
"then don't give me a reason," you say softly.
he doesn't answer. just reaches out, tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with surprising care.
"deal."
back inside, the day unwinds slow. he practices techniques—cursed energy crackling like summer lightning. you watch from a safe distance, chin in hand.
"show off," you call.
he flicks a spark your way—harmless. it lands on your sleeve, singes a tiny hole.
"hey!"
"oops."
you throw the singed sleeve fabric at him. he catches it in his teeth. spits it out.
"disgusting."
"your cooking is worse."
"you ate three bowls yesterday."
"i was hungry."
"you're always hungry. fatass."
"true."
evening comes. lanterns glow like captive fireflies. you play the koto—badly. he doesn't complain. just listens, eyes half-lidded.
when you finish he says, "again."
"no."
"yes."
"make me."
he does—by pulling you into his lap. "play."
you do. fingers stumbling over strings. his chin rests on your shoulder. warm breath on your neck.
"you're terrible," he murmurs.
"you're listening anyway."
"someone has to."
you lean back against him. silk and skin and something almost tender.
"don't eat anyone else for now," you say suddenly.
he stills.
"why?"
"because then i'd be alone with you. and you'd get bored eventually."
silence.
then—quiet, almost gentle—"i won't."
promise? threat? who knows.
you turn. kiss the corner of his mouth—the one that doesn't have extra teeth.
he freezes.
then kisses back. careful. controlled.
when you pull away he says, "woman."
"yes?"
"stay interesting forever."
you smile. small. real.
"only if you stay annoying forever."
"deal."
and in the flickering lantern light, with the capital sleeping beyond paper walls, the king of curses and his only concubine—best friend, pain in the ass, survivor—settle into something that isn't quite love.
I need requests!! All of my requests in my inbox rn WILL be deleted so I can start fresh!! I am multi fandom!! So if you're curious abt which fandoms I'm in you can come into my inbox and ask and later I'll make a list of which fandoms I write for!!!
I need requests!! All of my requests in my inbox rn WILL be deleted so I can start fresh!! I am multi fandom!! So if you're curious abt which fandoms I'm in you can come into my inbox and ask and later I'll make a list of which fandoms I write for!!!
I'm back because I lowkey miss writing but the most I'll write are like snippets or smth
Bruce Wayne who sees you at his little charity gala (the fifth one that week mind you,) all dolled up and was working with Clark Kent, two reporters who he didn't mind seeing but preferred seeing you both as friends instead of seeing each other at charity galas, and funny enough whenever any other reporter tries to come up to Bruce he doesn't give them a singular comment, not even a glance, not even a diabolical side eye.
But when it's you, he's more than happy to oblige and give you all the answers he needs.
"Y/n, good to see you here," he hums over his whiskey. He looks you up and down, seeing your hands full with a notebook and a pen, opting out the old fashioned way instead of the microphones he's so used to pushing away.
"Hi Mr. Wayne!" You hummed but you corrected yourself when he raised a brow, "Bruce," you snickered. His soft smile gave you the approval that you were subconsciously looking for. "What's on the agenda for tonight sweetie?" Bruce finishes sipping his whiskey, setting it down so he can turn his full body towards you ask you clicked your pen. "Just curious," you hum, you pulled your hair back a little. You failed but it didn't get pass Bruce, who leaned forward a little bit, you smelled his cologne—dark, not overwhelming but comforting, you didn't even realize he tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Curious of what exactly?" He hummed, motioning for you to come closer when some people tried to shove past you to get by. "Jusr curious, what's the gala for, what're raising money for?" You looked up at him expectantly, smiling softly just awaiting his answer.
He looked around, bobbing his head a little as he began to think. Little did you know he's been trying to just get you away from everyone else. He just wanted you to have a dance with him before the night ends.
"How about this instead, sweetheart?" He moved from where he was standing with you, grabbed your notebook and pen and put it on the high boy he was standing behind from. He lead you towards the dance floor as the orchestra started a slow dance.
"Mr. Wayne? I uh—Bruce—!" You stammered struggling a bit to keep up with him. He noticed and lead you with a firm hand on the small of your back as you picked up a bit of your dress to keep moving.
He chuckled as you two finally stopped around the dance floor. You grounded yourself with a hand on Bruce's chest—of course you didn't realize until he spoke. "My my, y/n, take me out to dinner first," he mused.
"I'm so sorry—" he cut you off with a nod, "I'm sorry y/n, I didn't even ask if you wanted to dance." He sighed, "well, better late than never, no?" He continued. "Y/n, would you do me the honors of having this last dance?" He hummed and you stared up at him, slowly smiling. "Bruce, so bold." You laughed softly. "I'd be honored," you finished as he started slowly moving in sync with you to the music the orchestra was playing.
What you didn't expect after the dance was that Bruce invited you to the afterparty — an afterparty of two.
jacobvanloon
