Process!
I have a headcanon that Sukuna’s mother hated him and cursed him even before he was born.
So we get a thrice-cursed child — rejected everywhere, hated by everyone.
In ancient Japan, children like him would have been thrown away or even fed to dogs… but he survived, against all odds.
And if Satoru had lived in his era, I’m sure he would’ve played with him and been his friend — no matter what the elders or his parents said! 💔✨
Bruce: You'd been helping Alfred label things in the attic all day and at the end, you print one extra, pressing a sticker that had "Property of—" your name written on it. You stuck it on the breast pocket of his suit before an event you weren't able to go to because of other obligations, just to make sure no one else would try to flirt with him and he didn't even notice until halfway through the evening. It was the most peace and quiet he'd gotten in a while (Aside from a picture in the press with a headline that read "BRUCE WAYNE SO SMITTEN HE'S BECOMING PROPERTY".) When he got home, he gave you a small disapproving glare and pulled it off, watching you frown dramatically. A few days later he hands you a small box with the label inside of it, properly laminated and made into a little pin for him to wear to any event you couldn't be there for.
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Dick: You bought a label maker and were OBSESSED with it, to say the least. What started as a project to organize some cabinets and spices turned into the entire apartment becoming labeled with item names or the stuff that specifically belonged to him or you. You labeled your milk, because you knew he'd finish your very specific kind without caring. You labeled your hairbrush, in hopes he'd stop getting his hair in it whenever he used yours because he couldn't find his. And you labeled him. He frowned, feeling you place something on his back and shrugged his jacket off, checking to see what it was. Your name had been printed on a label, attached to it his jacket. He smirked in amusement, watching you shrug lightly as if you had no idea why he was grinning. Then, he pulled it back on, taking the label maker from you and officially revoking your privileges as he offered to take you lunch, not bothering to pull the label off.
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Jason: You were bored, watching from the couch as he read quietly one evening in his favorite chair. You spent all day organizing stuff around the apartment on his day off with him occasionally looking up to glance at you before turning a page. When you were finally done, he was still reading, almost at the end of the book in his hands. You fiddled with the label maker, pressing some buttons and printing out your name next to the words 'loves Jason' and then stuck it to his sleeve. He didn't even glance at it. So you printed another. And another. Until his sleeve was mostly full, so you stuck the next one on his cheek. That finally broke him and his lips tugged into a reluctant smile, having known the entire time what label you'd been attaching to him. He set the finished book down and pulled the label maker out of your hand, printing one that said he loves you in return, and sticking it on your shoulder before getting up and tackling you on the couch, his arms wrapping around your waist, tickling you as he buried his face in your neck while you laughed.
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Jasper Hale x Male!Reader
Summary: You weren’t oblivious to each other’s crushes, it was more naivety, then again, you could say it’s all the same
Word Count: 1,301
Request: Jasper Hale/M!reader w/ sarcasm 17, comfort 6 and love 18 (for reader) :O
Prompts: comfort 6 “You came back for me.” “What’s you think I do, leave you there? Nowhere in hell would have I left you.” love 18 “I have never loved myself, but you? Oh God, I love you so much I forget what hating myself feels like.” sarcasm 17 “Careful, you might not like me when I’m angry.” “Bold of you to assume that I would like you in the first place.”
Warning: Bullying, blood.
A/n: When you mean for reader, I’m assuming that it’s been spoken by the reader????
You and Jasper have a funny relationship.
And, truth be told with you, you don’t exactly know what the relationship was. Because, on some days, he acts like he’s your best friend, on other days? Well, it seems like you’re at each other’s throat. You do everything to spite him, you do everything in your power to at least radiate some sort of annoyance energy from him. His family finds how this small weak human had so much power over him.
“Morning, (Y/n),” Jasper greeted at your locker, you send him a tight-lipped smile, “I can sense your annoyance already, has my presence-”
“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).
But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”
“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.
(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).
“It’s a warning,” you hum.
He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”
Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.
He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.
You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.
“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.
“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.
“We just mated—”
“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”
“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”
“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.
Sukuna is tired.
(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.
Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.
If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)
“I’m not tired,” you hum.
“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.
“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.
He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.
It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”
“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”
“You bit my fucking nipple.”
“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.
Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.
(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.
He doesn’t like it.)
“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.
“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”
“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”
You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.
“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”
“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.
Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”
“Night.”
“I love you.”
“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”