Ben Drowned ‣ Hope Carries On? ⟡ Yeah, Pocket Healer! ⟡
Liu ‣ Kisses and Kills ⟡
Dandadan
Danganronpa
Hamjie ‣ Orange Juice? ⟡
Date Everything
Devils Line
Dispatch
Ghost Stories (2001)
How To Train Your Dragon
Hiccup ‣ Gift Of The Night Fury ⟡
Invincible
Rex ‣ Explode My Heart! pt 1 ⟡
Jujitsu Kaisen
Kaiju No 8
Lord of the Flies
Jack ‣ Congrats, Newbie ⟡
Ralph ‣ A New Beginning ⟡
Mouthwashing
My Hero Adademia
Allmight ‣ Home Room Buddy ⟡
Denki ‣ You Remind Me of a Girl... ⟡
Tenya ‣ knight! Tenya x disney princess! Reader ⟡
Obey Me!
OverWatch 2
Ashe ‣ Unthinkable Pals ⟡ Ashe x Neglected! Reader Headcanons ⟡
Pharah ‣ Pharah x Disney Princess! Reader Headcanons ⟡
Sombra ‣ You Annoy Me ⟡
Venture ‣ Venture Basic Headcanons ⟡ Your Voice ⟡ Sloan SFW Alphabet ⟡ Sloan NSFW Alphabet ⟡ Hellish Night ⟡ Platonic Venture x Reader Headcanons ⟡ Let Me Be the One for You ⟡ Ihr persönlicher Übersetzer, Liebes ⟡ Venture Wedding Headcanons ⟡ Sloan Fluff Alphabet ⟡ Home ⟡ Venture x Pregnant! Reader Headcanons ⟡ Inside and Out ⟡
he’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch in between your legs, his head resting against your lower abdomen.
his fingers moved over the controller with practiced precision, some first person shooter game hooked up to the television.
you’re playing with his hair, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone. but you were beginning to get bored of this. it was a saturday night, and you had gone over to your boyfriends dorm expecting him to at least pay attention to you.
you got an idea.
your voice was soft, hands stilling in his hair as you spoke, “hey.”
“hm.”
“do you wanna eat me out?”
he paused for a moment, fingers stilling on the controller, before he began to shift.
“…yeah.”
just like that, the game was forgotten.
GAME OVER flashed on the screen, but neither of you cared.
megumi was now kneeling in front of the couch, his face buried between your thighs as his fingers gently ran up and down your bare legs.
“ngh.. like that..” you moaned, fingers entangled in his hair, gripping hard. it only egged him on further. he even quietly whimpered into your pussy as you tugged at his hair.
his tongue made your toes curl, low, raw moans tearing from your throat. he knew how to make you feel good, and he would never miss an opportunity to do so.
“f-fuck.. gonna cum- don’t stop..” you whined, eyes squeezing shut, head thrown back against the couch cushions as you felt your release build.
megumi kept going, his hands gripping your thighs tight. his tongue lapped at your sweet juices, drinking in your slick like water. he moaned softly into your folds, he wasn’t even touching himself, your pleasure just got him off so good.
you came with a broken cry, your hands tight in his hair. megumi didn’t stop until you were shaking with overstimulation.
he pressed his cheek against your inner thigh, panting and looking up at you with that soft, puppy-eyed gaze.
his voice was quiet as he finally spoke, cheeks tinted slightly pink.
heian era!sukuna who’s head over heels for you, a low-level sorcerer.
fluff
if the grand, terrifying king of curses were an ordinary man, the local villagers would have long since branded him a pathetic, lovesick nuisance and chased him out of the province with pitchforks.
unfortunately for the peace of the mortal realm, he was not an ordinary man, but a four-armed natural disaster currently enduring the spiritual equivalent of a toddler’s temper tantrum because his preferred human refused to look at his latest offering.
uraume stood in the corner of the reception hall, looking three seconds away from crying tears of exhaustion. they had spent the last forty-eight hours tracking down a mythical, glowing lotus that only bloomed on the highest peak of a treacherous northern mountain—a flower said to grant eternal youth or some other useless nonsense—only for sukuna to take it, squint at it, and toss it onto the pile of junk currently swallowing your small living quarters.
“i have nowhere to put this,” you said, gesturing wildly to the mountain of opulence overflowing from your tatami mats. “sukuna, there is a literal hoard of gold coins blocking my sliding door. if there’s a fire, i’ll perish. i’ll be crushed by ancient currency. is that your grand plan? assassination by wealth?”
he didn’t even blink. he was sprawled across his throne, chin resting heavily in his lower left palm, his gaze glued to you with the kind of intense, suffocating focus usually reserved for a scientist studying a microscopic anomaly. if you moved left, his four eyes tracked left. if you breathed a little too loudly, his ears twitched. he looked entirely bored, yet so deeply entangled in your existence that if you suddenly vanished, the sheer force of his withdrawal would probably rip a hole in the fabric of reality.
“then burn the gold,” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that rattled the sake cups on the table. “or use it to pave the dirt road outside. i don’t care what becomes of it, so long as it sits within your line of sight.”
“it’s blocking my view of the garden!” you thrown your hands up, exasperated but entirely unafraid. anyone else would have been flayed alive for raising their voice to him, but you had quickly realized that you held a bizarre, absolute immunity. you could have slapped his face with a wet fish and he would have simply asked if you wanted a larger fish to finish the job. “and what is this? why did you bring me a third cursed spear? i’m just a minor sorcerer, sukuna. i don’t use spears. I barely use a knife to chop vegetables. what am i supposed to do with a weapon that carries a generational curse of bloodlust? stir my soup?”
a tiny, terrifying smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. he found your indignation utterly intoxicating. he liked the way your eyes narrowed, the way your voice hit that specific, indignant octave, and the fact that you looked at him—a literal god of calamity—as if he were nothing more than an inconveniently large stray dog that kept dragging dead birds onto your porch.
“it pleases me to give it to you,” he stated plainly, as if that explained the absolute geopolitical chaos he had caused by wiping out an entire clan just to steal their family heirloom. “therefore, you will keep it. put it under your futon.”
“it glows in the dark!” you countered, crossing your arms. “it keeps me awake! and speaking of things i do not want…” you pointed a accusatory finger at a breathtaking, blood-red kimono draped over a nearby chest. the silk was so fine it looked like liquid fire, woven with real gold thread and blessed with protective enchantments that could stop a meteor. “i told you, i’m not wearing that. it looks like it belongs to an empress, and i’m just trying to clean the dust out of my kitchen.”
sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, a low growl humming in his chest. he didn't like the word ‘no’ from anyone else, but from you, it was a challenge that made his (?) heart thud against his ribs like a trapped bird.
in a blur of movement too fast for human eyes to register, he was off his throne. before you could even register the sudden shift in the room’s air pressure, two large, tattooed arms wrapped firmly around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the tatami mats.
“hey—!” you gasped, your protest cut short as he dumped you unceremoniously onto his massive lap, his chest a solid, radiating wall of heat against your back.
“you talk too much,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and sending a sudden, involuntary shiver down your spine.
while his primary set of arms locked you securely against him, pinning your hands down so you couldn’t bat him away, his secondary pair of arms reached out, snagging the heavy red kimono from the chest with effortless grace. he didn’t care that he was wrinkling a priceless historical artifact; he only cared about wrapping you in it like a prized pastry.
“sukuna, let go, you boulder of a man—” you squirmed, your elbows digging into his ribs, but it was like trying to fight a mountain.
“hush,” he commanded, though there was zero venom in it. his lower hands worked with surprising, meticulous gentleness, draping the heavy fabric over your shoulders, smoothing down the lapels, and pulling the rich silk tight against your frame. he was entirely clumsy at normal courtship, treating it like a tactical military conquest, but his devotion was so loud it was practically deafening.
he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his sharp teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave a tingling sensation but never hard enough to break it. his grip tightened, a desperate, possessive hum vibrating through his muscles.
“you think you have a choice in this?” he whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, velvety timbre that made your stomach do a frantic backflip. “if i must burn down the capital just to find a color that matches your eyes, i will do it by nightfall. you will wear my gifts, you will sit on my lap, and you will allow me to provide for you. do you understand me?”
you let out a soft, defeated sigh, your body naturally melting back against his broad chest despite your earlier complaints. your fingers reached up, resting over his massive forearm, feeling the steady, rhythmic thumping of his pulse.
“you’re entirely ridiculous,” you mumbled, a small, helpless smile finally breaking through your faux annoyance. “the capital has very nice architecture. please leave it alone.”
sukuna let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated straight into your bones, his four arms holding you so securely against him that the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. “we shall see,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head with a tenderness that would have terrified uraume, entirely content to hold you captive in his arms for the rest of eternity.
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ trueform dad!sukuna spending time with you and your curious children :: heian era. idea by @deartoru.
the late afternoon sun filters through the paper screens of the estate and casts warm golden light across the engawa where you sit with your family.
sukuna lounges against a thick wooden pillar with four powerful arms draped casually—one pair folded behind his head while the other rests on his knees. your two toddlers, barely three years old, toddle around him like curious little spirits, their small hands patting at his tattooed skin with unabashed wonder.
“papa,” your daughter chirps first, her chubby fingers gripping one of his lower arms, tugging it gently as if testing its reality, “why you got four arms? like… like spider?”
your son, never one to be left out, clambers onto sukuna’s lap and pokes at the second set of arms with a sticky finger. “yeah! papa monster? or… big strong?”
sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow, but there’s no real bite in the growl that rumbles from his chest. the king of curses, reduced to a glorified jungle gym by two tiny humans who share your features more than his. his upper arms flex instinctively, one hand coming down to ruffle your daughter’s messy hair while the lower pair scoops your son up against his broad chest.
“monster?” sukuna scoffs, voice laced with that familiar arrogance. yet his touch is surprisingly gentle as he balances both children without effort. “fools. these arms mark power. i conquer with these very hands. slaughtered humans, crushed armies—” he pauses when your oblivious daughter giggles and tries to climb the extra limb like a tree branch.
a low huff escapes him despite himself, “oi, brat. that’s not a toy.”
you watch from your spot, smiling softly as you sip your tea. your husband may rule with terror across the land, but here, in this quiet corner of your home, he’s simply. . .a father. the way his extra arms cradle the toddlers so they don’t slip, the subtle shift of his tattoos as he adjusts to their wriggling—it warms something deep in your chest.
“mama says you strong,” your son declares as he presses his cheek to one of sukuna’s pecs, “but why not two like us? more better?”
sukuna’s gaze flicks to you, a smirk curling his lips, sharp teeth glinting. “because your father is no ordinary man, whelps. four arms mean i can hold both of you at once… and still have two left to protect your mother.”
one of his upper hands reaches out, idly brushing a stray lock from your face with unexpected tenderness. the lower pair tickles your children lightly, drawing squeals of delight.
“see?” sukuna rumbles, lifting them higher so they dangle playfully from his grasp. “efficiency. strength. and the ability to discipline little pests who ask too many questions.”
but there’s no real threat—only the extremely rare, softened edge reserved solely for his family.
your daughter plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, unbothered by the markings or the extra limbs. or the fact that her father is a ruthless man. to her, he's just papa.
“love papa’s four arms! best for hugs!”
sukuna huffs, but the way his four arms pull all three of you closer—two for the kids, two drawing you into the pile—says everything. in this moment, the fearsome ryomen sukuna is utterly defeated by toddler logic and sticky fingers.
after all the pain you endured during your delivery, SUKUNA refuses to ever let his wife go through it again
★ based of that one scene in "when life gives you tangerines"
11 hours, 34 minutes, and 34 seconds. then 40. then more. sukuna counts them all without meaning to, like something wired too deep into him to stop. each second stretching, dragging, carving itself into his bones as time refuses to move fast enough.
his eyes burn, raw and unforgiving, a kind of ache he’s never known. not even in those long, merciless nights bent over a laptop back in his college days. this is worse. dark circles bruise the skin beneath his eyes, lashes still damp.
he sits rigid in a cheap, dark blue hospital chair, one that creaks every time he so much as breathes too deeply, yet he hasn’t moved from it in hours. maybe longer. his body feels locked in place, but his mind drifts, slipping in and out of a dull haze until the sound of a door jolts him upright again, sharp, alert, feral in the way his gaze snaps toward it. every time without fail. his hands rest on his knees, fingers twitching, trembling despite himself, nails pressing into fabric as if grounding himself is the only thing keeping him together.
the baby is fine. he knows she is. he’s checked too many times for anyone to comment on without risking the look he’d give them. each visit ends the same way: standing on the other side of the glass, large hand pressed flat against it, breath fogging the surface as something unfamiliar tightens in his chest. he doesn’t stay long. he can’t. not when you’re not there.
everything in him had gone cold— no, empty the moment they rushed you away. the world had narrowed down to the sight of you on that bed, face twisted in pain, your fingers clutching his with a strength that spoke of fear you rarely ever showed. and he had felt it too, sharp and suffocating, coiling tight in his chest in a way he couldn’t fight, couldn’t control.
then a clipboard had been shoved into his line of sight, a nurse speaking too quickly. “mr. ryomen, you need to sign this form in case the baby—”
“my wife.”
his voice had cut through hers without hesitation. not loud nor panicked. just final.
for a moment, everything had stilled. even you had looked at him, eyes wide despite the pain. He hadn’t even looked back at the paper.
“i choose my wife.”
after that, they had forced him out, the doors closing between you with a finality that made something ugly claw at his ribs. since then, all he’s done is wait, endless, suffocating waiting, counting seconds like they’re the only thing he has left to hold onto.
people came. of course they did. gojo, loud and insufferable even in a hospital, arms filled with gifts that cost more than necessary. geto, calm, offering congratulations that barely registered. toji lingering off to the side, megumi in his arms as he tried, awkwardly, to show him the newborn through the glass, jin nearby with itadori and choso, their presence filling the hallway with low conversation and quiet excitement.
sukuna acknowledged none of it beyond a glance at best.
because none of it mattered.
not the gifts, not the voices, not the child he had already seen and silently loved.
the only thing on his mind was you.
his wife.
“mr. ryomen?”
his name lands and something in him snaps taut and slack all at once. sukuna is on his feet before he’s fully aware of moving, the chair scraping faintly behind him. the sudden shift makes his vision tilt for a second, exhaustion catching up, but he steadies through it, jaw set, legs carrying him forward even as they threaten to give.
“she’s awake, everything is stable. you may see her now.”
that’s all he needs.
the door barely has time to open before he’s through it, pace quick, bordering on reckless, yet each step feels impossibly heavy as the weight of the past hours clings to him, refusing to let go. the sterile white of the room greets him, too bright, too clean, and then—
you.
everything else falls away.
you’re laid against the stark sheets, small in a way he’s never seen you before, exhaustion carved into every line of your face, the aftermath of something brutal and beautiful all at once. you look fragile. spent. human.
and still— still you’ve never looked more perfect to him.
his chest tightens, something sharp and overwhelming lodging itself beneath his ribs as his eyes lock onto yours. they find him easily, soft despite the fatigue, a faint smile ghosting over your lips as your hand lifts, barely reaching for him.
“my love…” your voice is hoarse, worn thin, and it nearly undoes him.
he closes the distance in seconds, dropping to his knees at your bedside without care for anything else, large hand immediately enclosing yours as if to confirm you’re real, warm and alive. here. he brings it to his face, pressing slow, reverent kisses to your knuckles, your palm, your wrist, lingering like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you all over again.
something wet slips against your skin.
“ryo…?” your voice is softer now, concerned, your fingers twitching as if to pull away, but he doesn’t let go not out of force, never that, but out of something far more desperate.
he tightens just enough to keep you there, head bowed, shoulders trembling in a way that doesn’t belong to a man like him.
“there…” his voice catches, rough, uneven, breath hitching as the memory crashes back; your face twisted in pain, the sound of it, the helplessness of being torn away. his brows pull together sharply, grip faltering for a second before tightening again. “there won’t be another.”
he presses another kiss to your skin, slower this time. like sealing a vow into you.
“there won’t be another,” he repeats, quieter, but no less absolute.
you blink at him, caught off guard, and then despite everythin a soft, breathy laugh escapes you. “don’t be stupid, ryo.”
his head lifts just enough for you to see the way his expression twists, raw and unguarded, eyes rimmed red, lashes clumped.
“i don’t—” his breath stutters, voice breaking in a way he doesn’t bother to hide, “—want to see you like that again.” his hand curls into the sheets beside you, gripping the fabric tight as if grounding himself, “not like that. not ever.”
you soften instantly, both hands coming up carefully to cradle his face, guiding him closer despite the way he resists for half a second.
“did you see her?” you murmur, thumb brushing beneath his eye, catching the dampness there.
he nods, quick, almost eager despite everything, leaning into your touch without thinking. “i did… but—” his voice drops, “i wanted to see my wife.”
“oh, ryo…” you pull him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips; soft, lingering, tasting faintly of salt.
he exhales against you, eyes closing briefly, forehead coming to rest against yours as his hand finds its place around yours again, unwilling to let go.
“there won’t be another,” he says, quieter now. final.
you study him for a moment. at the fear still lingering beneath the surface, and the love that outweighs everything else, and your expression softens into something certain.
“okay,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “there won’t.”
★ it's 2:49am i should fucking sleep but i finally got the idea how to write this and i had to
Husband!Ichigo who loves to fuck you raw as soon as you two get married, not just because he wants to become a dad as quickly as possible, but also because he craves the feeling of your warm walls clenching around his cock as you desperately milk him dry.
Husband!Ichigo who can’t keep his hands to himself whenever you pass by, casually smacking your pretty bum or thighs just because he can. Around you, he doesn’t have to hold back, he gets to be his true self. And that true self is a bit of a pervert who worships your beautiful curves every single day.
Husband!Ichigo who loves taking you in front of a full-size mirror, just so he can watch every little gasp and moan that leaves your lips as he agonizingly slowly slides his throbbing length inside your aching cunt. Standing right behind you, his heavy hands gripping and slapping your ass, he buries himself deep while watching your expressions twist in pleasure. The way your eyes roll back as you cream around him, like you’re about to fall apart completely? Absolutely priceless.
Husband!Ichigo who makes you a nutritious breakfast almost every morning, just to ensure you start your day right. It’s his quiet way of showing how much you mean to him and how deeply he cares about your well-being. And even on busy days, he still makes the effort, grabbing your favorite pastries and a good old coffee from the nearby bakery so you won’t go without.
Husband!Ichigo who loves waking you up with his mouth between your thighs, slowly pulling you from sleep as he indulges in your warmth. A soft chuckle vibrates against your skin when you begin to stir, his tongue dragging lazily over your slick folds while he takes his time. There’s no rush, he just wants to feel you, hear you, and make you come undone before the day even begins.
Husband!Ichigo who never returns from a mission empty-handed, always bringing you small trinkets or gifts that reminded him of you. Sometimes it’s something simple, sometimes something rare like exotic flowers from Hueco Mundo, or that sweet sake you once shared with him and Kyoraku (which he definitely didn’t “borrow”).
Husband!Ichigo who pulls you close in the early morning, half-asleep and still worn out from the night before, and slowly sinks into you from behind. His lips brush against your shoulder blades, leaving soft kisses as his hands wander gently over your body. His movements are slow, deep, and unhurried meant to wake you up in the most overwhelming way possible, especially when his fingers join in, guiding you right back to the edge.
Husband!Ichigo who keeps track of your cycle more carefully than you’d expect, not just to give you space when you need it, but because he knows exactly when you’re the most sensitive. On your ovulation. And when that time comes, he’s fucking you relentlessly until he got you stuffed full with his seed, pumping it even deeper inside of your fertile womb with every followed thrust.
♡ husband!satoru’s genes are just too strong ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
part 2
you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on your very obvious baby bump, the other clutching the newest ultrasound.
“i’m done,” you declare.
across the room, satoru pauses mid taking his shirt off. “done… with pregnancy? because i feel like that’s a little late.”
“with your genes,” you snap, glaring at the photo. “they’re ridiculous. actually unfair.”
he snorts, walking over. “nothing i can do about that, sweetheart.”
you shove the ultrasound toward him. “explain this.”
he looks at it, then at you. “…that is a baby.”
“that is you,” you correct immediately. “again. for the third time.”
he hums like he’s considering it. “we don’t know that.”
“we do,” you insist, growing more emotional by the second.
“we have two already, toru. two tiny versions of you running around with your face, your hair, your stupidly pretty eyes—what am i even contributing?!”
“everything?” he offers.
“no,” you shake your head, pouting. “i carried them for months. i’m carrying this one. i do all the work and your genes just— copy, paste, repeat!”
he tries— he really does— but a grin slips out anyway. “to be fair, it’s a very good face to copy—”
“satoru.”
“right. not the time.”
you huff, looking down at your stomach. the baby shifts faintly, and it only makes your emotional state worse. “i just… i want one that looks like me.”
that quiets him instantly.
he steps closer, slower this time, like approaching something fragile. kneeling in front of you, he gently takes your hand and places it more securely over your bump, covering it with his own.
“they are like you,” he says, softer now.
“they don’t look like me,” you mumble.
“they have your expressions. your attitude,” he replies. “the way they get emotional over the smallest things—”
“it’s not small!”
“—and the big things,” he corrects easily, a small smile tugging at his lips. “that’s all you.”
you hesitate, but your eyes are still shiny. “that’s not the same.”
“it is to me.” his thumb brushes under your eye, catching a tear before it falls. “and this one? might surprise us.”
“you said that last time.”
“okay, yeah,” he admits, “and i was wrong.. twice. but y’know— third time’s a charm.”
a reluctant laugh slips out of you.
“there she is,” he murmurs, leaning in until your foreheads touch. “besides… even if our baby comes out looking exactly like me—”
“she will.”
“—she’s still yours first,” he says gently. “you’re the one she hears, the one she feels. you’re home before she even opens her eyes.”
that makes your expression falter.
“…and,” he adds, grin returning just a little, “if we do end up with three mini me’s, i think that just proves you have excellent taste.”
you let out a shaky breath, then weakly smack his shoulder. “your genes are still stupid.”
“yeah,” satoru says easily, wrapping his arms around you and your bump, “but you married into the problem.”
you grumble, but melt into him anyway, his hand resting warm and steady over your stomach.
“…next one better look like me,” you mumble.
“personally, i do not mind if we keep trying.”
“and what— create a whole clan?” you huff.
“i mean—” you slap a hand on his mouth before he can continue.
At first, Sukuna thinks being in a relationship is stupid.
Not you. Never you. Just… the whole concept. The labels, the expectations, the soft stuff. It doesn’t make sense to him. He’s used to things being simple. Want something, take it. Like someone, keep them around until you don’t.
But then there’s you.
And suddenly he’s… trying.
It starts small.
You mention, offhandedly, that couples usually text each other “good morning.” You don’t even say it like a request. Just a random comment while you’re half-asleep, scrolling on your phone.
The next morning, at exactly 7:02am, your phone buzzes.
“morning.”
That’s it. No emoji. No punctuation. Just one word.
You stare at it, smiling like an idiot.
When you see him later, you tease him.
“Wow. So romantic.”
He clicks his tongue, looks away. “Shut up. You said couples do that.”
But the next day, it’s:
“morning. eat something.”
And then:
“good morning.”
He doesn’t look at you when he says it out loud though. Just mutters it, like it physically pains him.
...
He tries other things too.
Like holding your hand.
The first time, you’re walking side by side, your hands brushing slightly every few steps. You’re too shy to actually grab his, and he’s… noticing. Of course he is.
It annoys him.
So he just—grabs your hand.
Firm. Decisive. Like he’s claiming it.
You freeze.
Your entire body goes stiff, and you’re staring straight ahead like if you move you’ll combust.
“…why do you look like that?” he mutters.
“I don’t—what—how do I look—”
“Like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m NOT—”
He squeezes your hand a little tighter.
You stop talking immediately.
He huffs, but there’s something softer in it. “…idiot.”
He doesn’t let go the entire walk.
—
Dates are… interesting.
He googles things. Secretly.
You don’t know that.
But that’s how you end up sitting across from him at a café, blinking because there’s a small, slightly crushed flower sitting on the table between you.
“…did you steal that from outside?” you ask.
“I didn’t steal it,” he snaps. “It was just there.”
“So you did take it.”
“…shut up.”
You pick it up carefully like it’s the most precious thing ever. “It’s cute.”
He goes quiet.
Because he wasn’t sure if you’d like it. He almost threw it away three times before you got there.
“…it’s stupid,” he mutters.
“It’s not.” You smile at him, soft and genuine. “I love it.”
And something in his chest does this weird, unfamiliar thing.
He doesn’t understand it.
He just knows he wants to see you smile like that again.
...
He tries watching movies with you.
Which is torture.
Because apparently “couple things” include cuddling.
At first, he sits stiffly beside you, arms crossed, pretending he doesn’t notice how you keep subtly leaning closer.
Until you sigh, dramatic. “Couples cuddle during movies.”
“…who decided that.”
“Everyone.”
He rolls his eyes. “…fine.”
And then, awkwardly, he puts an arm around you.
It’s stiff. Unnatural. His hand just kinda… rests there on your shoulder like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
You melt into him anyway.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
After ten minutes, he relaxes.
After twenty, his fingers start absentmindedly tracing little patterns on your arm.
After thirty, you’re fully curled into his side, and he’s glaring at the TV like he dares it to acknowledge how soft he’s being.
“…you’re warm,” you mumble.
“Yeah. I know.”
But he shifts slightly, pulling you closer anyway.
...
He even tries compliments.
He’s bad at them.
So bad.
You show up one day wearing something different. Not even fancy, just… different. And you’re clearly a little nervous about it.
He notices immediately.
Stares for a second too long.
You fidget. “What?”
“…you look fine.”
Your face falls just a little. “Oh.”
He notices that too.
And it bothers him.
A lot more than it should.
“…I mean,” he adds, rougher now, like he’s fighting himself, “you look… good.”
You glance at him.
He looks irritated. Like this is the hardest thing he’s ever done.
“…really?” you ask, softer.
He clicks his tongue. “Why would I lie.”
Your smile comes back.
Bigger this time.
And yeah. That weird feeling in his chest again.
Stronger.
...
The thing is, Sukuna doesn’t really understand romance.
He doesn’t get why it matters. Why any of these small things are important.
But he understands you.
He understands the way your eyes light up when he tries.
The way you hold his hand a little tighter after he grabs it first.
The way you lean into him like you belong there.
Heya! Could you do Keith Kogane and Reader running away from the Garrison.
I Wanna Run Away
Keith Kogane x Reader
Voltron
Warnings: uses of Y/N, not proof read, out of character keith(?)
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
Keith Kogane.
The troublemaker of the Garrison.
He was a lucky kid; everyone knew that he was only in the Garrison because of Shiro, who claimed that the boy “had potential to be a pilot”.
It seemed like everyone doubted Keith because he didn’t follow the rules and the instructions from Iverson, but Shiro didn’t give up on the boy.
And you didn’t either.
Keith and you weren’t exactly friends per se; it was more of an acquaintance that the two of you had. But it didn’t stop you from being friendly with the boy. Sure, he was kind of mean and was standoffish, but who could blame him? He didn't have a mom, and his father died when he was young in a fire. It would make sense for him to act the way he does.
But as the years went by in the Garrison, the two of you got closer, friendlier with one another. It was nice, finally being friends with the guy after a while of wondering when the two of you would get on the same page.
One day, however, Keith came to you and talked about leaving the Garrison, saying it wasn’t his place.
You laughed at that, thinking he was joking.
Clearly, he was not joking about it.
It was about three in the morning, you didn’t fully know. But all you know is that you woke up to the sound of a soft knock coming from your door, loud enough to wake you. When you awoke, you let out a small grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you scrambled out of bed and shuffled your way towards the door.
Keith was on the other side when you opened the door, not in his Garrison-issued pajamas like you were. He was fully dressed: black boot cut jeans, a utility belt on his hips, gray t-shirt with his red and white jacket that he always wore when he wasn’t in Garrison uniform.
“Keith?” You asked with surprise in your sleepy tone, eye brows raising slightly as you looked at him, blinking a few times as you tried to process what he was doing at your door late at night. Your eyes trailed over his figure, head to toe before landing on the bag that was slung over his shoulder, clearly stuffed to the brim of stuff, which you had no idea what it was. “What are you doing here? It’s like, I don’t even know, clearly past 12 in the morning.”
Keith sighed at your words, threading a hand through his messy mullet, glancing off to the side before meeting your gaze again, sharp and serious, as always. “I told you I was thinking of leaving.”
“You mean ‘running away from the Garrison’?” You whisper-shouted, not wanting anyone to wake up and hear what the two of you were talking about. “Keith, I thought you were joking! Why waste an opportunity like this? Shiro made sure you were in this program.”
“I know, don’t remind me.” Keith frowned, giving you a gentle nudge and making his way into your room, closing the door behind him as he dropped his bag to the ground, then made his way around your room, which was identical to his own room. “I want you to come with me, Y/N.”
You stared at him with bug eyes, dumbfounded by the words that just left his mouth. He wanted you to run away with him? “What?! Keith, are you high?” You scolded in a mumble, giving him a light shove on his shoulder, not believing that he just asked you to throw your future at the Garrison for him so the two of you could run off wherever. “Where would we even go? We’re in the middle of nowhere basically.”
He paused and looked at you when you shoved his shoulder, crossing his arms and giving you a faint glare, as if to say, 'Can't believe you’re doubting me.' “I have a plan already, don’t worry about it.” He huffed, brushing his hair out of his face once again. He was silent for a moment before he sighed, glancing to the side for a split second before he met your gaze again. This time, his expression was softer, not entirely pleading, but it was something akin to it. “Please, I don’t want to leave you alone.”
You hummed softly when you saw the softness in his gaze, knowing that it was a rare thing for him to show, even to you. Any type of vulnerability was very rare for him, coming from the childhood that he went through. You sighed deeply as you shook your head lightly, your shoulders shrugging lightly. You couldn't just leave just like that, but at the same time, you didn't want to leave Keith alone God knows where.
"I know I'm asking for a lot." Keith went on suddenly, eyes daring between yours, his expression sincere and serious. "But you're all I got here...besides Shiro." He practically gave you puppy dog eyes, or his version of it. looking at you with his blue-gray, almost purple eyes, brows furrowed slightly and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly.
Oh good Lord, you were a weak person.
Now here you were; the outside the Garrison, bags slung over your guys’ shoulders as you ran in a random direction.
You shook your head and let out a laugh as the two of you ran awkwardly due to the heavy ass bags you both were carrying with you, arms flailing and bodies swaying to keep balance. “This is insane, Keith!” You laughed out, giving a glance over to the mullet boy, watching as he adjusted his own bag.
Keith let out a chuckle of his own, grabbing your wrist as the two of you start to slow down. “It’s fun though, yeah?” He smiled faintly, looking over his shoulder and seeing nothing but empty, dirty sand land that the two of you ran through.
“It would’ve been easier if we used a bike or something.” You tease, jabbing him with your elbow. You knew he was good with a hover bike, or whatever they were call, but the fact that neither of you even considered that until now was a little silly.
The two of you slowed down to a walk, a stroll of sorts, drinking water out of canteens and snacking on small treats that Keith packed. It was nice, oddly enough.
After a while, the two of you arrived to a small, wooden house, which was insanely tiny, the hover bike you were wondering about was surprisingly already here, leaving you to suspect that he left it and Shiro picked Keith up or something along that line. the only room being the living room and a bathroom. that was it. it couldn’t be too bad, right?
Once the two of you were inside, Keith made himself at home, dropping his bag down and checked every nook and cranny for anything that was left behind by the previous owner. There was little to nothing for someone to steal, but he still checked everything, making note of it for future use.
As he did that, you placed your bag next to his, carefully stepping through the house before taking a seat on the couch, humming to yourself before sighing as Keith joined your side once more. “We really did this?” You asked softly, everything feeling quite all of a sudden.
Quiet.
Still.
“Yeah…We did.” Keith nodded, his voice the same softness, the same quietness as yours. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, leaning forward and pressing his elbows against his knees, threading a hand through his hair as he looked at the wall in front of him. “Weird, huh?”
You nod, leaning back into the couch, staring at the same wall Keith was staring at as well. “Yeah. Very.”
It was silent between the two of you for a while, staring at the wall.
With a sudden huff, you lean into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, arm draping over his other one. “Thanks for bringing me with you.”
Keith hums at the sudden contact, tilting his head to look at you before lazily wrapping his arm around your middle, his hand resting on the bottom of your ribs. “Of course.”
The two of you fell asleep like that after a while. well, not exactly like that, but close enough. Keith’s body was lax against the couch, head tilt back against the top of the couch, his arm still wrapped around your middle as you pressed against his side, face buried into his neck with your arms wrapped weakly around his neck, both of your legs tangled with one another’s.
And every night from then on, that’s how the two of you slept.
Alone in that tiny house, with just each other.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
hey…i’m back…again. BUT I FINALLY FINISHED THIS! after like a year…WHOOPS
warnings: uses of Y/N, Rex might be out of character but oh well, spoilers for season 3 of Invincible, not proofread, reader insert
Explode My Heart!
Rex Splode x Hero!Reader
Invincible
2nd POV
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
It was late at night, almost midnight to be exact, and you were at the old Teen Team base since the Guardians split after what happened between Cecile and Invincible, or otherwise known as Mark Grayson.
You were currently sitting in bed, unable to sleep despite it being late in the night, the TV on in the background, playing some random show that Rae recommended to you a while back. You were half watching it, listening to the lady on the TV talking about one of the guys being a 'good kisser' and how he's grown on her since their last date before a knock echoed in the room, making you sit up in bed and pause the show.
You got out of bed and made your way over to the door, opening it and expecting someone to be there, but there wasn't. "Weird..." You mumbled to yourself, getting ready to close the door before noticing a envelope on the ground.
Picking it up, you noticed it was addressed to you, of course it was, why else would it be on your doorstep. Your fingers traced the thread that was tied around the envelope before carefully taking it off and opening it, pulling out a sheet of paper of a drawing.
A drawing of Rex and you, adore in your hero attire at a table with candles, wine glasses and what looked like a steak dinner in front of the both of you.
You had to be honest, the drawing looked like it was made by a five year old, but it added to the charm.
It took you a moment to realize the 'motive' of the drawing.
It was Rex and you on a date.
Your cheeks flushed at the thought, your heart jumping to your throat as butterflies quickly made their way into your stomach and making themselves home.
"This idiot..." You chuckled to yourself, putting the envelope on your desk in your room before you made your way to the kitchen area of the base, drawing still in hand.
As you drew closer to the kitchen, you heard the faint sound of music that got louder the closer you got to the room.
Eventually, you made it to the stairs that lead down into the kitchen, stopping on the landing and watching Rex chop away at whatever he needed for the dinner he was making for the two of you. It was an odd sight, really. Never in a million years did you expect to see Rex in the kitchen, probably because all you've seen him eat is pizza and other forms of junk food.
With a small hum, you finished your way down the stairs, getting a whiff of the food that was cooking, which smelt really good. You walked over to Rex with a small smile, careful to not startle him since he was holding a knife in his hands.
Rex looked away from what he was doing, knife stilling in his hands when he noticed your presence, which immediately pulled a smile on his face. "Oh! Hey, Y/N." He chuckled nervously, licking his lips as he turned to face you, holding the knife up as he continued with his nervous chuckling. "Uh, right on time!"
You chuckled along with him, a little nervous as well as you brushed some hair out of your face. "Y'know its almost midnight, right?"
Rex's shoulders slouched at your observation, a small groan escaping him. "Ugh, yeah, I-I know." he sighed as he put the knife on the cutting board, his free hand going to the back if his neck and rubbing it sheepishly. "Ah...this took me a little longer than I thought." He jerked his hand that was on his neck towards the food in front of the two of you, shrugging his shoulders as he looked at you.
You hummed softly as you looked at the food, lingering on the steak that was cooking at your side. Man, this food looked really good. Smelt good too.
You were a little bit...giddy about this.
"Pull up a chair! I'm cooking you dinner." He suddenly beamed, pointing to himself with his thumb, pulling another chuckle from you.
"Well, I could gather that much." You smiled, holding up the drawing that he drew for you before dropping your hand to the side again, tilting your head to the side slightly. "But...why are you doing this?"
Rex shrugged his shoulders, darting between something else and your eyes, a little nervous about holding your gaze the entire time. "Oh...because yo-you said it was something you wanted to do...you know, like, have a normal dinner, so..." He paused and trailed off before he suddenly threw his arms out with faint jazz hands, a sheepish smile on his lips. "Ta-da!"
You glanced around at the action, realizing hoe messy the kitchen was. Pots and pans in the sink, different utensils scattered on the countertops and mysterious splatters of sauces were around the area.
You winced slightly, knowing damn well you'd be apart of the clean up crew with Rex. "I thought you told me you didn't cook." You recalled, walking over to the table that was there, taking a seat in one of the shitty folding chairs that were provided.
"Ooh, that's what I thought, too! But look at all this!" Rex beamed as he grabbed the two bowls from the counter, one of them a salad and the other cut up potatoes. "Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are." He grinned as he placed the bowls down on the table. He then let out a small 'oh!', remembering the unlit candles that were on the table, untouched. He snapped his fingers over the wicks of the candles, sparking what looked like an electric charge which caught fire on the wicks, making him let out an enthusiastic "Oh-ho!" when the candles lit, making you giggle lightly with a light eye roll.
"You, Rex, are full of surprises." You chuckled, resting your chin against one of your palms, watching him move around the kitchen, grabbing two plates and spatula to get the stakes out of the pan.
"Ha, thanks." He laughed dryly with no bite behind it. He put the steaks onto their own plates before sprinkling a bit of garnish on top. "Full disclosure: it's from a meal kit. Turns out I can follow instructions when I want to."
You followed Rex with your gaze as he walked over to the tabled and placed the plates onto the table, one where he was going to sit, which was next to you, and the other right in front of you. "It smells really good, Rex." You smiled, looking up at him, watching as a smile tugged on his own lips.
"Ooh! I almost forgot." He suddenly exclaimed, turning around to one of the many boxes that were in the kitchen, grabbing an old, dusty bottle. He turned back to face the table and you, blowing off the dust which made the both of you fan it away from your faces, small coughs escaping both of you.
"You did not get that in the meal kit." You coughed, pointing to the bottle in his hand, taking note of how old it looked.
Rex chuckled sheepishly once again, waving the bottle around slightly as he spoke, waving his other hand around as well. "Okay, so remember when the Immortal told us to 'grab our stuff' and to get out of Guardians HQ?" He asked with a smirk, doing air quotes as well. He ripped the plastic off of the top of the bottle, continuing on when you hummed in agreement, remembering what he was talking about. "I may have also grabbed some of his stuff. Specifically, a few bottles of...château...ooh...something-something I don't know how to pronounce..."
You laughed lightly at his attempted, brushing some hair out of your face as you pointed a finger in his direction, a playful smirk on your lips. "I think you mean you stole a few bottles."
"Ah, potato, 'potahto'." He waved you off playfully, a sly grin on his face when you called him out on his stealing, chuckling softly. He turned around to the box again, grabbing two mugs with the old Teen Team logo on them. "I've been doing it for years and he's never noticed. Besides, wine like this is wasted on a guy who hasn't smiled in 10,000 years."
He placed the mugs down and went to pop the cork out, holding it up just enough to catch the year on the bottle, your eyes widening with disbelief in your tone. "1762? Wow, I wasn't expecting that."
"Oh, it was such a good year." He popped the cork out of the bottle with a smirk, pouring some of the red wine into the two mugs that were on the table, making sure that there was an even amount of the alcohol in each cup. "You know, other than the incurable diseases and tooth decay and people never taking showers..."
He passed you and you gladly took it with a smile, swirling the red liquid around the mug idly as Rex sat down in his chair, smiling at you as he held his glass out towards you. "Cheers."
"Cheers." You clinked mugs with his, examining the wine before you started to lift it to your lips, wincing with a scowl at the sudden taste, pulling the mug back from your mouth when Rex suddenly spat out the wine all over the table, letting out a cough to cover it up before groaning out an "oh" slightly in disgust. "Oh God, that's terrible."
"Oh, it's so bad. Oh." He groaned out, adding a dramatic affect to it just for show.
"Hurry, we should eat something."
And with that, the two of you started to stuff your faces with the food that Rex prepared, soft hums and stifled chuckles escaping the two of you, the sound of silverware clanking and scraping against the plates also filled the unspoken silence, the music still playing in the background.
There was a sudden pause when the two of you met each others gazes, both of you chewing on whatever food before swallowing, and you spoke first. "You do know that none of this..." You started and threw your arms out slightly before placing your palms back on the table, tilting your head to the side when you spoke again. "None of this is normal, right?"
Rex groaned lightly at that, nodding his head faintly as he placed his arm on the table, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah." He sighed as he looked down at his plate, a small frown on his lips.
Humming, you reached forward and placed a hand stop of his, shrugging slightly. "But hey, it's still good." Your hand gave his a small, reassuring squeeze, tilting your head again. "Thank you, Rex."
Rex's gaze darted over to your hand over his, staring at it for a moment before his gaze met yours, light smiles instinctively tugging on both of your faces, followed by hummed out chuckles. "Anytime, Y/N." He mumbled, his hand intertwining with yours as he looked back down at his food, starting to eat his food again, which in turn made you start eating again as well, letting comfortable silence, besides the music and silverware clinking, fill the space between the two of you.
Maybe Rex was changing for the better.
After dinner, it was nearly one in the morning, the two of you laughing and joking around in the hallway as Rex walked you back to your room, standing way too close for it to just be anything but casual.
The two of you got to the door of your room, but neither of you moved or said anything, keeping the closeness there between the two of you.
"Well..." You forced yourself to say, shrugging your shoulders as you moved away from Rex's side, getting closer to your door. "I had fun tonight. Thank you again."
Rex waved you off with a small scoff, like he was trying to brush off his kind gesture. "Oh, it was nothing." He paused, hands shoving into his pockets as he looked at you again, a small smile tugging on his lips, betraying his true feelings of the night. "But I'm glad you had fun tonight. Cause, you know, I did, too."
Smiling, you hummed faintly and didn't say anything for a moment before you stepped closer again, leaning in slightly and pressing a light peck to his cheek before you stepped back, opening the door to your room and stepping inside, slow with closing the door. "Good night, Rex."
Rex stood there, speechless as he watched the door softly close in front of him, his face slowly going red the longer he stood there, the kiss replaying on repeat in his head. "...G'night."
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
ignore the crappy layout that i have i’m still figuring out my layouts💔 but if you guys have any ideas lmk!!
Hello. I'm just wondering, are you able to do two or three part ones that are long, or not really? Just thought I'd ask this.
i can if i have enough ideas for it, the definitely something i could do!!
and i feel like if someone were to request something like, there would have to be a LOT more ideas and thoughts for the story so that way it’s a little easier for me to come up with something, if that makes sense!
but if you have any further questions, feel free to comment or dm me!!
