At this little corner of the vast interwebs, you will find a variety of lovely potions to pick from. Each one is hand crafted by our experienced mixologist.
Understanding our Drinks
Masterpost
Interested in a simple drink of something guaranteed to be utterly delicious? Don't want to spend hours on a single fic? Want a quick fix before a long day? Try a OneShot!
Available in flavors of Angst, wump, and fluff.
Looking for something that will last? Something that will take multiple sips to get down? try out our series of drinks!
These drinks come in all kinds of flavors!
Do you want a shot of something short and fulfilling? Want writing ideas or inspiration and ideas based of a character? You will absolutely love our headcannons!
Flavors include: Angst, wump, and fluff.
Looking for a story that's different? Something more immersive than your average fanfiction? Look at some of our Text stories!
Flavors include: Angst, wump, and fluff.
I truly hope you enjoy your time and my apothecary serves you well. Hopefully you can find a drink you enjoy! I would hate for any of you lovely patrons to leave empty handed, so if you have a drink suggestion, feel free to leave the recipe in my "drink menu" box. <3
Includes: True form Sukuna (yes including the stomach mouth, submissive little bitch reader, reader genuinely becomes a suck-up crybaby for a while, gender-neutral reader, Angst with a good ending, Sukuna is soft towards reader, power dynamic, slightly heated (no outright smut though), Sukuna only wants reader.
(Not Proofread)
You would say that you’re avoiding him, but avoiding doesn't seem like a strong enough word for what you’ve been doing.
You’ve made yourself practically invisible.
I mean, it’s not like many people saw you before, but now, you can’t remember the last time you actually saw one of the servants.
You make yourself as scarce as possible, moving silently, getting your own food, doing your hobbies in the dead of night.
You’re practically nocturnal at this point.
You’ve spent days doing nothing but crying, upset at Sukuna, the world, and yourself for falling for him so hard.
You know you’re an idiot for believing you were special, believing you actually meant something to him.
But you didn’t think his words would hurt you this much.
You haven’t been in the garden since you last spoke with him, choosing to stay locked up in your room instead.
Sukuna hasn’t called for you, not that you expected him to.
You shove that thought from your mind, eyes moving to look at the clock on the wall.
It’s nearly eleven.
You sigh, pushing yourself to your feet and stretching out your achy limbs. You should probably grab something from the kitchen, considering you haven't eaten all day.
You exit your room, carefully shutting the door, keeping your footfalls almost silent.
You’re halfway to the kitchen when a sound makes you still, your breath catching in your throat as you immediately stop, shoving yourself to the nearby wall.
Why did you have to have a room near Sukuna’s? This is torture.
You take a deep breath, calming both your nerves and heart.
Then you take a step forward, risking a look around the wall, into the hallway that leads to his room.
If your breath wasn’t caught before, it is now.
There’s a woman, one you’ve never seen before. Her long black hair flows over her shoulders, down her back, almost falling to her knees.
Her outfit shines in the dark light of the candles–a short black skirt rests against her legs, barely making it to mid thigh. Her top is strapless, a simple black wrap, but she pulls it off extremely well. She also wears shear-glittering sleeves that practically rest floating over her shoulders.
Gods, she’s beautiful.
Your eyes wander a little further, eyes straining to see in the dark lighting of the night.
The woman moves, walking silkily backwards, manicured fingers… gripping onto the hem of Sukuna’s silk pants, pulling him closer to the doors of his room.
You’re going to vomit.
He looks at her with a smirk, eyes dragging from the tops of her hips to the soft point of her lips, gloss shining there.
Both anger and betrayal rushes through your veins. You know you shouldn’t feel this way, he explicitly said he didn’t want you, yet tears still prick your eyes.
You bite down on your lips, feeling the metallic taste of blood taint your tongue.
Why does it hurt so much?
Your eyes drag to Sukuna, who stares at the woman, apart from the smirk, his expression is unreadable, eyes devoid of emotion…
It rips at your heart, noticing how his hand raises, fingers dragging down her arm, before gently settling his hand on her back.
He’s never looked at you that way, never touched you like that, never guided you to his room in that manor.
You don’t know why, but a vile, icky part of you deep down, wishes he would’ve done that with you.
Would’ve stared at you with lustful eyes, would’ve run his hand down your spine, would’ve leaned in close to kiss your neck.
But he never did. Not once did he look at you with anything more than… fondness?
You’re grateful for that, you truly are. But Gods you wanted more.
You wanted him to be yours, to belong to only you, even if that want was idiotic. He’s the King of Curses afterall.
But when you found out he dismissed all his other concubines… You thought you might’ve had a chance.
Now you realized how dumb it was to believe that.
You know you should continue on to the kitchen, or better yet go back to your room, but your feet stay planted against the floor, breath stilled, as if breathing might make your chest collapse.
The weight of the sight in front of you makes your chest feel heavy, tears now falling silently down your cheeks.
You feel like you’re suffocating, eyes forcing themselves shut as you breathe, a sharp intake of breath leaves your lips, far louder than you meant.
Your eyes snap open, meeting Sukuna’s features as you shove one foot in front of the other, you cross the hallway, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you practically shove through the doors of the kitchen.
For just a moment, you swear you hear footsteps getting closer, but they fade just as quickly as they started.
Oh Gods oh Gods, fuck.
My lips part, breath coming out strained as I stare at the doors that lead to the kitchen.
The feeling of the woman’s touch fades, my thoughts now completely consumed by them. Oh Gods. They saw... This.
I can feel nails drag up my arm once more, but I can’t bring my gaze to meet hers.
I’m an absolute idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Well, what I was thinking was that I needed something to occupy my mind, something to get my retched thoughts away from them…. To move on.
It was working, for about two whole minutes.
Then, I saw their face, cheek splotchy with tears, eyes all big and wide, mouth parted in nothing but pure shock.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get at least some sort of sick satisfaction seeing them like that, because of me.
But mostly, it makes my heart clench painfully in my chest.
Like someone reached their heart into my abdomen, and twisted, yanking it out with no mercy.
I wonder if I looked down, would I see blood?
The woman next to me grows quickly impatient, tugging on my arm, doing her best to grab my attention.
I have half a mind to get rid of her, run over to them and pull them into my arms, wiping their tears away with soft, gentle hands.
But I don’t. For some Gods awful reason, I don’t.
Instead, I turn, locking eyes with the desperate woman before me. It's now that I realize I don’t know her name. I never asked for it.
Her eyes shine in the light, but they’re nowhere near as pretty as yours. Her hair falls down her back in soft tresses, but it doesn’t catch my attention.
She’s a means to an end. I don’t want her, I never did.
She’s not you.
I shove the thought to the farthest depths of my mind, and grab her arm, before pulling her into my room.
AU: After getting your phone number from a friend, Denki slowly falls in love. After an especially... heated night, he talks to you, spilling all the feelings he's kept under lock and key.
AU: After getting your phone number from a friend, Denki slowly falls in love. After an especially... heated night, he talks to you, spilling all the feelings he's kept under lock and key.
Includes: True form Sukuna (yes including the stomach mouth, submissive little bitch reader, reader genuinely becomes a suck-up crybaby for a while, gender-neutral reader, Angst with a good ending, Sukuna is soft towards reader, power dynamic, slightly heated (no outright smut though), Sukuna only wants reader.
(Not Proofread)
Your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. Hot tears prick your eyes like knives.
Upon seeing them, Sukuna’s grip softens, barely. His eyes widening ever so slightly.
“I-I...” His voice comes out cracked, more hesitant than you’ve ever heard it, but that’s not what your mind focuses on.
You’re focused on the words that just left his lips. Those same lips that uttered your nickname ever so softly.
You can’t remember the last time he used that tone towards you. Today has been the most he’s ever spoken to you with such malice.
His eyes search your face, but you pull roughly out of his grip before he can speak once more. You don’t want to hear anything else from him.
You don’t want to hear anything else about how he sees you.
“I-I apologize my lord. I should n-not be questioning you.” Your words are shaky, leaving your lips as little more than a whisper.
Sukuna opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Instead, you turn, rushing out of the room as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.
Hearing no call of your name from behind you. Not that you expected it.
You ignore the looks of the servants as you head to your room, doing all you can to keep your tears at bay.
Though it’s all in vain, as you can feel the pitiful looks they throw your way.
Upon reaching your room, you throw yourself onto the bed, shoving your head into the pillow to muffle your sobs.
The only thing you can think of is how stupid you are to believe you could’ve been anything to him.
You suppose that somewhere, the lines blurred. Between the late night shared-dinners, the nickname that made your heart melt, and the little caresses he laid against your skin.
You can’t quite remember when your feelings had changed. When the hatred you held in your heart, bled into something more.
In his room, drapes now closed, shrouding the room in darkness, Sukuna deals with… similar emotions.
“Why.. Why does my chest ache like this?” He kneels near the bed, wooden floorboards biting into the bare skin of his knees.
“Why the hell does it feel like something’s tearing at my heart?” He sucks in a breath, an overwhelming feeling of… guilt…? Building up in his chest.
There's no reason he should care about you. The way you looked at him, how your eyes widened, lips parting as your breath caught in your throat.
He can’t remember ever feeling something as strong as this, something he can’t shove down. Something he can’t bury within the deepest parts of his soul.
Sukuna forces himself to his feet, stalking over to the window, eyes adjusting to the light as he pushes back the drapes.
He stares out over the gardens, eyes silently searching for you, though he wouldn't admit it. He hoped you would be there, knowing that’s where you go when you get upset.
At least, you usually did… A few thoughts run through his head, curving themselves around his brain, suffocating his conscious.
“What is wrong with me?” He practically shouts, hands coming up to claw at his hair, breaths labored and heavy.
When he stared down at you, watching you on your knees before him. He didn’t know what the emotion was that flowed through his veins.
He just knew that then, watching as you kneeled for him, like a lamb shoved to the slaughter–your village elders willing to throw as many lives away as possible.
He got angry.
He remembered being so angry that day.
Angry that anyone would be so careless with your life. Angry that the people in your village were so willing to throw you to him, knowing what he could do. Angry about his blooming feelings for you.
He hates how you make him feel, how his heart speeds up, his breathing catching when you’re around, the way your smile and laugh brightens up his day like nothing else could.
It makes him feel weak. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that he didn’t mind feeling weak when it's because of you, and that scared him more than anything else.
Sukuna can’t remember the last time he liked someone. He doesn’t know love, or affection, or kindness.
Those are all things that you deserve.
Things that he can’t give you.
But gods sometimes he wishes he could. He wishes he could make you feel loved, wanted, and appreciated.
He’s tried to be kinder to you, treating you in a way he’s never treated anyone before. He felt like he was doing well.
He noticed changes.
How you stopped cowering when he entered the room, how you became more talkative during dinners with him, how you ever so slowly stopped with the honorifics, occasionally slipping up and calling him one of the myriad of nicknames you created in your mind.
‘Suki’ ‘Kuna’ ‘Ryo’
He loved when those soft names left your lips, knowing they were for him and him alone.
He had realized the growing feeling in his chest, one of want and compassion, was met with something deeper, more sinister, evil.
He noticed how his chest tightened when he got too kind, how he grimaced when the servants realized he was softening towards you.
That’s something that he hated. He supposed that his hate for his own weakness overpowered his feelings of… love for you.
He knew deep down that all of this wasn’t right, that you deserved to be living a life on your own terms.
He believed that if he truly loved you, he would let you go, even if the sick part inside him wanted to keep you under lock and key for the rest of your short-mortal life.
So he told himself it wasn’t true. That because he wouldn’t do what he believed to be the “right thing,” he didn’t actually love you.
And believing that, even if he knew deep down it was a lie, was one of the only things that brought him peace.
He realized now that any kind feelings you have towards him have probably dissipated.
Any lover or likeness you had for him flowed away like the tears that clung to your cheeks.
Gods, he hated the sight of that.
It made his chest ache with a deep regret, something he doesn’t ever want to feel again. Sukuna just doesn’t know how to make things better..
Or if he even should.
Maybe he should just let you hate him. Making you believe he didn’t like you would be the easiest thing to do moving forward.
He’s used to cruelty, degradation, humiliation. Those things come like second nature to him.
It would be so simple to hurt you, break you down, force you to be like any of the other concubines he’s taken in his hundreds of years of living.
The idea of doing that makes him sick, his stomach twisting and turning into knots at the mere thought of forcing you into doing anything.
He thinks about going to your room, apologizing, saying anything and everything that will bring him back to you.
But he can’t bring himself to do it. Feet feeling stuck to the floor like cement.
He thinks, maybe hope will be enough.
Maybe this time, the fates will understand how much you truly mean to him.
Includes: True form Sukuna (yes including the stomach mouth, submissive little bitch reader, reader genuinely becomes a suck-up crybaby for a while, gender-neutral reader, Angst with a good ending, Sukuna is soft towards reader, power dynamic, slightly heated (no outright smut though), Sukuna only wants reader.
(Not Proofread)
The lighting of the hallway has always proved to be a little erie. Candled-torches line the walls, casting deep golden glows over the walls.
You notice it even more this time. Most likely because it feels like the lights are guiding you, leading you to him like a moth to a flame.
The doors in front practically loom over you, unsettling in their size. You’ve never been to this dining room before, only the ones designated for concubines.
As if noticing your arrival, the heavy wooden doors begin to open, revealing the interior.
The walls are decorated in ornate paintings, pieces that are no doubt hundreds… possibly thousands of years old.
A large dining table sits in the middle, rows of chairs you can only assume haven’t been filled in years.
There are placemats at every seat, though only two are lined with golden threads. The chairs look expensive, dark wood, upholstery the color of blood that’s long dried.
But what grabs your attention the second you look up, is Sukuna, who sits at the head of the table, eyes now looking you up and down.
His hair is fluffed, ever so slightly tussled, like he’s been running his hands through it far too many times.
He’s in his usual attire, though this time his pants are dark blue, almost black, accentuating the color-void tattoos that cover his frame.
“You came,” he murmurs, gaze not leaving you for a moment.
“I didn’t think I had a choice.” You mumble in reply, instantly regretting your words as you realize it could be seen as defiance.
But Sukuna just chuckles, motioning you to come sit down, standing so he can pull out the chair next to him.
You step forward, hesitance marking your every step, as you draw closer to the demon who’s allowed you in his home.
“There’s no need to be so timid, Sunshine.” He murmurs, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you.
You nod, sucking in a breath as you raise your gaze to meet his. His eyes almost soften when they meet yours, searching your face for something you can quite process.
“C-can I ask you why you invited me for dinner..?” The question slips past your lips easily, your mind wanting an answer, now far less scared of the consequences for some reason.
Sukuna smiles, leaning back in his chair as he crosses both sets of arms. “I wanted your company, it’s as simple as that, Sunshine.”
By the time you get back to your room it’s almost midnight, the absence of the sun causing your room to be bathed in pitch black darkness, your eyes straining to make it to your bed with injuring yourself.
You were hesitant at first, before the conversation had flowed. You suppose the wine also helped ease your frayed nerves.
He was... Soft spoken tonight, his eyes never straying from your face, not daring to look at you with lust. At least, not that you were able to notice.
The food was wonderful, three full courses, exotic fruits you had never tasted before. Being from the village, parents barely able to make ends meet, you learned to be grateful for anything and everything.
But this… this new way of living is something you aren’t used to. Something you’re still adapting to.
Sukuna has a way of drawing you in, his words and stories so vivid and exciting you couldn’t help the suspense that ran through your veins for the majority of the night.
He looked at you like you were the only one he wanted to speak to, like you were what mattered.
You wonder if it was just due to the alcohol, or maybe there's actually something more brewing beneath his tough exterior.
The instant your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light. Falling into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.
Your dreams fill with images, mind conjuring intimate ideas of someone. Someone you only dare to think of intimately, in your dreams.
The next time you’re called to Sukuna, it’s been a full week since you last saw him. Not in the corridors, the hallway, or even the garden… He’s simply been akin to that of a ghost.
You have questions that you’ve mulled over, taking deep breaths as you silently encourage yourself.
The rug underfoot is soft, grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. You feel like you're about to dissociate, standing outside his bedroom.
You have an assumption as to why he’s called you here, why else would he summon his only concubine to his quarters?
You’re not completely sure though... So, you’re not going to allow yourself to get worked up over it. You have to keep a clear mind.
Once again, as if the doors can sense you, they open, allowing you to enter the one room you’ve never seen before.
You were expecting extravagance, similar to that of the outer palace. Perhaps drapes of gold, a four-post bed bigger than you’ve ever seen before. Maybe a balcony outlooking the garden..
In reality, it’s none of that.
The walls are painted a soft yellow, a beige rug resting in the middle of the room, halfway beneath the bed, which is the size of a queen.
The windows have simple white curtains, specs of sage green dotting them.
There's a large bookshelf on the west wall, filled with hundreds of books, all looking older and well-loved.
There are a few plants on the dressers, all wonderfully taken care of, blooming with life. Your lip's part, the comfort and simplicity of it all causing surprise to pull at your features.
“You look shocked, sunshine.”
You gasp, turning quickly, coming face to face with Sukuna, who stands by your side, leaning down gently to keep your gaze.
“You get startled so easily,” he mutters, walking further into the room. The doors shut with a loud thump behind you, the sound almost urging you forward on its own.
Sukuna moves to sit on the edge of the bed, watching you walk closer to him. You let your eyes wander over him, specifically the mouth on his stomach, which for once, he hasn’t covered with his arms.
As if sensing your gaze, the mouth opens with a smirk, showcasing its long forked tongue–a circular, black piercing glinting in the light.
Your breath catches in your throat.
Finally, you stop, now standing in front of him, hands clasped together. Your fingers fidgeting ever so slightly. You can’t help but bite your lip, gaze falling to the ground.
Sukuna’s brows furrow, “Spit it out, what are you thinking, Sunshine?”
You return your gaze to him, your lips parting to speak, but no words come out. A frown takes over Sukuna’s features.
“I’m not waiting around for you all day, speak, or else I'll make you.” He sighs, crossing the top set of his arms, eyes sharp with a glare.
You then stutter out the words, cheeks flushed that rosy pink he’s grown so used to seeing on you.
“W-why don’t you treat me like a concubine?” Upon closing your mouth, you bite your lip–watching his face contort into something akin to both confusion and annoyance.
He shakes his head, moving to stand, towering over you now–not bothering to lean to your height.
“Care to elaborate, Sunshine?” This time, the nickname is filled with more malic, not getting the butterflies that you're used to when he normally says it.
“You don’t… well you..” The words get stuck, and you can see him getting angrier by the second.
“Gods fucking dammit just spit it out.” He growls, all four hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.
“You haven’t used me the way you did the other concubines. You never ate dinner alone with them, never talked to them the way you talk to me, gods I mean, you didn’t even remember their names half the time, yet with me, you use nicknames.”
The words just don’t stop, flowing from your lips like lava down a mountain, burning their way through Sukuna’s resolve.
Before you realize, Sukuna grabs your arm, his grip on your bicep tight enough to leave a bruise. On his features, there's an expression you’ve never seen on him before… At least, not aimed towards you.
You can tell now that he’s annoyed, upset, maybe even something close to furious.
“Have you ever thought that maybe I just don’t want you?”
Includes: True form Sukuna (yes including the stomach mouth, submissive little bitch reader, gender-neutral reader, Angst with a good ending, Sukuna is soft towards reader, power dynamic, slightly heated (no outright smut though), Sukuna only wants reader.
(Not Proofread)
‘This is it.’ You thought to yourself, gravel biting into your knees.
‘This is how I will die.’ As your gaze fixes down to the ground, watching as the bugs wiggle to and fro. They’re more free than you ever have been.
You can hear his voice, deep, loud, almost more growl that words. You haven’t seen him yet. Not in person. You’ve heard stories, of course. Seen paintings and sketches, heard about how terrifying he is. How those who dare look him in the eyes, don’t live long enough to tell the tale.
You suck in a breath at the sound of footfalls against gravel. Eyes squeezing shut, scared even the slightest movement may get his attention.
The day that every young child fears. The day those who are of age must learn to accept.
He comes to your village every three years. A small, quaint, unsuspecting village tucked into a valley of blooming Sakura’s and vivid flowers. A place no one would expect the King of Curses to choose his servants and concubines.
You have one of three outcomes in this moment.
One, you live another day, working in his palace, cleaning, forcing yourself to work to the bone day and night. Until you inevitably die of dehydration, exhaustion, or both.
Two, you live as one of his concubines. Serving his every whim, living in a room far better than your family could ever afford. Trying your best to go undetected, for fear the others may be jealous of you. Simply for being prettier, favorited, or a myriad of other foolish reasons.
Three, he kills you on the spot, bloody draining down the grass-covered paths of your village, serving as both a reminder and a warning, that even the slightest step out of line could be your end.
You hold your breath as the footsteps get even louder, eyes now open as you can practically feel his shadow looming over you.
“Rise,” he growls, voice scratchy and rough. Seemingly annoyed with the situation. Like deciding the fates of the youth who have their whole lives ahead of them, is such a bore.
You suck in a breath, pushing yourself to your feet, eyes staying stuck on the ground, knowing what could happen if your gaze dare to stray just a centimeter off.
Before you have a chance to process it, you can feel his skin against yours, his hand underneath your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.
Your breath catches, eyes immediately closing, for fear he’s testing you.
But that’s proven wrong just a moment later… at least you believe it is.
“Open your eyes mortal, look at me.” He spits the words at you, watching as you tremble slightly in his grasp, eyes opening with hesitation.
His face is like nothing you could have expected. The paintings you’ve seen, stories you’ve been told, have never painted him in such a light as being…. Handsome..
His features are sharp, four eyes staring back at you, golden-red rings in his eyes pulling you in like nothing else.
His black tattoos almost shine in the light, drawing your eyes in. Gaze roaming over his face, your prior hesitation now nowhere to be seen.
He smirks, eyes roaming your face in the same manner. He then turns your head to the side, observing the way your skin feels beneath his touch “Hmm…” Your breathing stills, heart beating even faster than before.
He jerks his head in the direction of one of the servants. “You’re coming with me.” You finally exhale, breathing returning to normal as your heart tries to go back to its usual pace.
He lets go, and you finally get the chance to look at all of him. His toned and muscular form, tattoos moving down from his face and trailing over the expanse of skin he shows.
You can already tell they trail far past the waistline of the pants he wears, made of the finest silk.
He turns, beckoning you to follow as he walks towards the aforementioned servant.
You clasp your hands together, staring straight ahead as you walk, knowing if you make eye contact with those around you, you may not be able to move. You may not be able to go through with this.
He pulls you to his side as he faces the rest of those still on their knees.
“Let it be known that I expect more from you, filth. One acceptable concubine out of a group of seventeen?” He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
So, he will be taking you as a concubine then… you try to imagine it, but nothing comes to you, unable to know what awaits you in the future.
He then turns to you once more, his second pair of arms crossing themselves over his lower stomach, covering the mouth that rests closed there.
He leans in, breaths ghosting over your skin.
“I want you to watch as I kill the filthy inadequate mortals your village leaders thought would be sufficient enough.” He smirks, taking your chin between his fingers once more.
“Let it serve as a lesson in gratitude.” Within an instant all you can hear are screams. The heads and bodies of those you grew up now covered in slashes, blood seeping onto the grounds of your village garden.
Staining the once green grass a maroon so deep and dark it’s almost black.
You don’t join their screams. You don’t let your tears fall. He’s taking you as his concubine, allowing you to live, for now at least.
You will not be letting this opportunity go to die.
You will bow your head, avert your eyes, speak only when spoken to.
You will do whatever he wishes of you. You will do whatever it takes to stay alive.
Your days at the palace have been… quiet to say the most. Your routine falls into place swiftly.
Wake, bathe, get ready, join the other concubines for breakfast, then spend the remainder of the day occupying yourself.
You’ve taken up a few hobbies upon realizing majority of your days are yours to… enjoy? You’re not quite sure what it is.
Once you arrived here you assumed you would be seeing Sukuna often, being at his beck and call all hours of the day.
Instead, you haven’t seen him since the day you arrived. He showed you to your room, and the shared dining room, then left you to your own devices.
In the meantime, you’ve picked up knitting, reading, and strolling through the garden.
You’ve had very few run-ins with the other concubines, who are both men and women.
You suppose it makes sense; the King of Curses can have anyone he wants.
Taking walks through the garden is your favorite activity thus far, proving to be a lovely way to spend your time and get some much needed sunlight, peace, and quiet.
You hum softly, fingers running over the roses planted near a simple wooden bench.
Walking among the rows and rows of colored flowers has provided a small amount of joy to you.
You’ve found yourself bringing the watering can out of the old shed, spending hours outside taking gentle care of the blooming plants.
You’re about to sit down, wanting to watch the sun set down the horizon, but the loud sound of footsteps break your focus.
You turn, almost coming face to face with Sukuna. You gasp, dropping to your knees and averting your gaze as quickly as you possibly can.
A scratchy chuckle sounds out from the man in front of your now-bowing form.
“Rise now, Mortal.”
You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to your feet, gaze stuck on the ground below, soft, vibrant grass now the focus of your attention.
He moves swiftly, once again grabbing your chin, far gently than the first time.
“Did I not tell you to look at me the first time we met? Raise your gaze, now.” He squeezes your chin ever so softly, the action surprises you immensely.
Why is he acting in such a manner?
“You’re out here quite often,” he hums, eyes dragging over your face. “I think you’re the only concubine who has ever dared to enter my garden.”
Your lips part, not realizing this area was off limits. “I-I I had no idea, I’m so very sorry.”
You apologize immediately, the words leaving your lips like they’ve been practiced a million times.
He moves just slightly, and you flinch, closing your eyes tightly, purely on instinct.
After a moment you realize nothing has happened, he has not moved. You take a breath, forcing your eyes open.
Sukuna stares at you, a soft frown on his face. “You’re allowed to be here. There is no reason you may not enjoy the gardens as I do.”
Your lips part once more, though this time it’s from surprise.
“Y-you said no concubine has dare enter the gardens...?”
He shakes his head softly. “I said that because it’s true, none have ever left the few rooms in the palace they know. Though, you have.”
He pauses, before continuing, voice slightly more stern. “The only room off limits to you is my own, unless you are invited in. Otherwise, you may go wherever you please.”
You nod, breathing finally returning to some semblance of normal.
Your eyes tilt down once more. “My Lord... may I ask a question.”
He sighs, tilting your head up further, frown returning to his features. “Look at me while you speak.”
You nod, words leaving your lips quickly, for fear you may lose the courage if you do not ask now.
“Where are the other concubines? It has been quite a while since they have come to the dining area for meals, or been seen around the palace.”
You can’t help but bite your lip, hoping to get an answer to the question that’s been plaguing your mind for days now.
He frowns once more; a sight you realize you’ve grown used to seeing. “They’re gone.”
You pause, eyes searching his features for an explanation. “Gone?” You question.
He nods, voice now rougher, less gentle than before. “Yes, gone. Could you not hear me the first time?”
You apologize quickly. “I-I heard you, I-Im sorry I just don’t understand… Where have they gone?”
He sighs once more. “You apologize far too much, it’s annoying.” He then squeezes your chin again.
“Most I murdered, a few were sent away with their belongings.” He pauses, “I think a few were also pushed off the neighboring cliff. I'm not completely sure though.”
You stare at him in shock. “They’re all gone?”
He shakes his head. “Did I not just say that? Have your ears stopped working? Are they stuffed with cotton?”
“N-no My Lord.”
He nods, gently letting go of your chin. “Good, I'd rather not have to take you to see the medical practitioner.”
So many questions run through your head. But mainly, “My Lord… Why have you gotten rid of them...?”
The second set of his arms cross over his stomach, a position you’ve seen him take quite a few times now.
With the other pair, he shrugs. “I got sick of them, so I disposed of them. I have no better explanation than that for you, Sunshine.”
The nickname flows over you like a thick coat of honey, soothing your nerves—even though you know you shouldn’t let your guard down around him.
You can’t help the way your cheeks heat, flushing a rosy shade of pink. Sukuna immediately smirks at the sight.
You want to know why he spared you. Why you’re the only one he kept. Why it’s their blood staining his hands instead of your own.
You shove down those questions, knowing that for now, simply being alive is a blessing.
Whether that blessing was granted by him, or someone else watching over you, you don’t know.
You watch as his eyes search your face, a smile pulling its way onto his features before he speaks. Words confusing you even further, pushing even more questions into the vast depths of your mind.
“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, Sunshine.”
Each of our specialty drinks have been categorized for your ease. Below, you will find a short explanation of our category system and each of the meanings.
Each of our drinks are put into a story category then a color category. Upon looking at a post, the first thing you will see is the story's category. Example: OneShots, Series, Headcannons, etc.
Next you will see the story's color category. this is displayed with potions of various colors next to a word describing the story's type. these include but are not limited to: Fluff, Angst, Wump, etc.
Here are a few for you to see.
An important final mention would be:
This means the potion does not fit into a certain category. It is a mix of many types, and you may not know what they are.
Below you will find a large array of drinks on our current menu. They are each organized into their specific categories so you can hopefully have an easier time finding what will satiate whatever cravings you have. <3
One-Shots
The Little Things (Alastor x lucifer) / A Deal of a LifeTime (Alastor x lucifer) /
Headcannons
Eel hybrid Simon. / "Would You Still Love Me if I Was a Lobster?" (MHA Boys).
Drink-Series
Bloody Man and Broken Boy (Simon x Grace) / Eridian Tattoos (Simon x Grace) / I Hate it When You Cry (Sukuna x Reader)
Text stories
Strangers to Lovers (Denki Kaminari x Reader Text Story)
!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most
Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.
You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.
To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.
Except you didn't.
You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.
"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.
You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."
The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.
You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.
If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.
He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.
And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.
"You are eating that wrong."
You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.
You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.
"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."
Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.
"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."
"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."
Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.
He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.
He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.
It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.
"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."
You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."
Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.
"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."
You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.
The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.
But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.
The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."
The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.
And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.
During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.
You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.
But Sukuna had heard it.
He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.
Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.
Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.
Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.
"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."
"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.
His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.
"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.
"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."
You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.
He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.
You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.
"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.
A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.
"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.
Simon chuckles, pushing himself up on the counter and sitting down, the same position Grace was in just thirty-minutes ago.
“Do you want me to leave this as a surprise.. Like you did for me?”
Simon bites his lips, pausing for a moment before slowly nodding his head yes.
He pulls his shirt off, setting it to the side and taking a deep breath, trying to relax just like Grace did.
He didn’t really know what to expect. It’s not like he had ever gotten a tattoo before, the process is all so foreign. Simon tilts his head up like Grace did, and before he knows it, the cool metal of the tool is against his skin.
The feeling is not how he thought it would be. It’s not sharp and piercing, like how he assumed being stabbed would feel. More like, being pinched. It’s slightly.. Achy? It’s not bad, nor even close to the worst pain he’s felt. It’s actually… kind of soothing.
After a few moments, he relaxes further, eyes falling shut and limbs melting like wax against his sides.
“You doing alright..?”
Grace murmurs, keeping his hand steady.
Simon nods, nothing more than a soft ‘mhm’ leaving his lips.
The sound of Grace’s soft breaths, and the slight *tap* of the tool when he gets more ink, it all lulls Simon.
Before he knows it, he’s out like a light.
————————————————————-
By the time he wakes up, Grace is moving about the bathroom, cleaning up, careful not to disturb Rocky who is loafed on the floor next to the bathtub.
Upon noticing his lover’s sleepy stare and soft hum, Grace walks over, gently running his fingers through Simon's tussled hair.
“Your neck is going to be sore from that.”
He chuckles, watching as Simon leans into the touch.
“C-can I see them now..?”
Grace smiles softly, before nodding and grabbing the same mirror from before.
Simon takes it, stretching his torso just slightly as he sits up, bringing the mirror up so he can view his new art.
A soft gasp leaves his lips, eyes darting from one tattoo to the next.
Grace waits silently, worried that he won’t like them.. Or worse, hate him for doing this in the first place.
“Grace, it’s perfect.”
Tears prick his eyes, hand shaking as he attempts to hold the mirror steady.
Grace attempted a similar tattoo placement to the one Simon did, wanting them to be somewhat matching, but still have their own personal flair.
Two smaller tattoos, along with various stars dotting Simon’s chest, and a large symbolistic tattoo over his heart.
The first of the smaller tattoos, a circular planet on his upper left side, extremely similar to the planet Grace often talked about, Earth.
The second of the smaller tattoos is a cluster of shooting stars, spanned slightly apart on Simon’s lower torso.
And lastly, the tattoo over his heart, a swirling sun, with a small dripping line of red through it, similar to that of the Petrova Line. Below it, written in small delicate script:
“My Star, My Life, My Love.”
————————————————————-
Art Credits in Order: @Neopolitanzz -Pintrest @Juurmom -Pintrest (Last is my artwork.)
if you told me 5 years ago. actually if you told me 6 months ago that i would be this invested in a relationship between ryan gosling and a puppet that looks like a rock i would have laughed so hard i’d throw up.
Simon and Rocky both stand in front of Grace, who’s sitting on the counter top in the bathroom.
“I know what I want it to be… Are you okay if I keep it as a surprise.”
Simon looks up to Grace, who just replies with a nod, and a soft trusting smile.
Rocky then hands Simon the tattoo tool. It's familiar in his hands, similar in shape and weight to a pencil. The tip is sharp, similar to a tattoo gun, but simpler. It's different from what the Eridians use traditionally, because they had to create one that can use ink instead of inscription.
Grace pulls off his shirt, setting it aside and leaning his head back against the mirrored cabinet. Having been through this process many times before, he knows it’s best to relax and stay calm.
It doesn’t necessarily hurt, well, not anymore than a tattoo on Earth would.
The thing that bothers him the most, is the fact he doesn’t know what the symbol will be. He trusts Simon, more than anyone really.. But Grace is truly an impatient soul, so his fingers tap and fidget against the counter, doing what he can to keep himself still.
“You’re real fidgety.. Do you want me to stop?”
Grace shakes his head, forcing his gaze to the ceiling, making sure to grant Simon’s wish of keeping the symbol a surprise until it’s done.
“No, it's fine. I’m just excited I suppose.”
Grace is a total liar. He’s ecstatic to have tattoos from his ‘mate’ like the Eridians do. He’s so happy that Simon wants to take part in it as well.
The sharp point of the tool feels cool on his skin, almost ticklish in a few spots. Grace can tell that Simon is leaving a few marks in different spots. He gave Simon absolute free reign to do anything he wanted.
By the time he’s done, it’s been about an hour, and Grace is half-asleep. Simon sighs, setting the Tattoo tool on the counter. He brushes some hair out of Grace’s face, before pressing a kiss to his temple.
“Hello Sleeping Beauty.”
He chuckles as Grace groggily opens his eyes. Grace then smiles once he realizes who he’s staring at.
“Are ya done, can I look at it now?”
He murmurs, stretching his arms a little, careful not to disrupt his new ink.
Simon nods, smiling bright and excited.
“Yeah, you can see it now.”
He grabs a mirror, bringing it down in front of the new tattoo's.
Grace gasps, grabbing the mirror and bringing it closer, eyes locked on the delicate swirls and lines that now span his torso.
Simon sucks in a breath, hoping for a good reaction. It is Grace’s body, and those tattoos are permanent.
“They’re… they’re beautiful, Simon.”
The tattoos are very delicate, soft in their linework and shapes. There are a few dozen small stars at different places around his torso, along with two smaller but significant tattoos; a liquid drop with a small filigree-like swirling sun near his right shoulder, and a cluster of stars with a drippy planet in the middle, on his lower left side.
But the main tattoo is right over his heart, a soft-lined swirling tree, almost identical to the one on Simon's own pendant.
Simon looks up, noticing the tears that have pricked Grace’s eyes. Luckily, they are happy tears. Very, very happy tears.
“I love them, so much.”
—————————————————————
Art Credits in Order: @Neopolitanzz -Pintrest @Juurmom -Pintrest (Last is my artwork.)
Something Grace noticed earlier in his adventure with Rocky, is the Eridians tattoo’s. He hadn’t asked about the swirls and lines that covered his rocky exterior, at least not until he had been living on Erid for sometime.
Apparently they represent friendship, and in some cases, love.
Once Eridians reach adulthood, they get tattoos on their arms (legs?) that are representations of their close friends and family. Each swirl is a name of someone important to them, like a mural of their life and companions.
But, when the Eridians find their mate, their forever lover, they get tattoo’s on their bodies, the spot saved specifically for that special person. Rocky showed the tattoos he had gotten for Adrian, allowing Grace to trace the lines and divots.
Grace, ever the interested scientist, asked how they did them. He then got the long explanation of the tattoo process and how the tradition began.
Originally, when Eridians had begun, they could not speak to one another, as they had no developed language. So, to make sure they never lost their loved ones, they would feel the familiar lines and marks, realizing it was someone they knew and cared for.
Back then they would use anything sharp, rocks, glass, anything they could find. Each Eridian picked a symbol, then inscribed it on their family members' skin.
Now, it’s much more advanced, speciality tools used to create beautiful lines and swirls.
So that’s how Grace ended up with his own tattoos. His arms and legs covered with delicate twists of ink. Separate from his torso, which Rocky made sure to leave clear of colored figures.
“Save for mate.” He said.
Grace didn’t have the heart to tell him that wouldn’t happen…
So imagine Rocky’s happy noises when Simon asks about the marks covering Grace, five months after they had found and rescued the half-dead man from a bloody mess of a planet.
Rocky jumps up, walking over to the pair of humans cuddled together on the couch.
“It’s an Eridian tradition. Rocky shared it with me, and the others agreed to share that part of their culture with me.”
Simon nods, gently running his fingers over the marks. While they aren’t carved into his skin like the Eridians do (Humans are not made of rock.) They still provide a nice texture to feel.
“What do they mean?”
Simon murmurs, eyes focused on the blonde next to him. He then points to a group of squiggles on his legs, near his calves.
“Those are from the pebbles. They said I made a big impact as their teacher.”
Simon hums, a soft smile gracing his lips.
“Markings of special people, statement.”
Rocky adds, laying down next to the edge of the couch.
Simon reaches down, gently patting Rocky on the head.
“Do you have them everywhere?”
Grace shakes his head, Simon looking at him with a curious expression.
“Torso empty, left for tattoos from mate.”
Rocky replies, answering his silent question.
Simon nods, biting his lip.
“So Rocky, those marks on your abdomen are from Adrian?”
Rocky nods enthusiastically.
“Yes yes, Adrian marks, very pretty.”
Simon pats Rocky on the head once more, leaning further into Grace’s who’s arm is around the taller male's waist as they lay with each other.
“So… you don’t have any tattoos on your chest?”
Grace shakes his head.
Simon lets out a soft hum, gently running his hand through Grace’s soft golden locks.
“Rocky think Grace need new tattoos from mate.”
Grace’s mouth opens a fraction, surprise framing his features as his cheeks flush a reddish-pink. He turns his head, burying it against Simon’s shoulder.
“Rocky! Shut up.”
Rocky jumps up, poking at Grace’s side.
“Grace mean. Rocky think Grace stupid.”
Simon chuckles as Grace buries his face further.
“Simon, tell him to stop.”
Simon moves his hand, now rubbing soft circles against the smaller male's back.
“Actually… I kind of like the idea.”
“I’m sorry what?”
Grace raises his head, looking at the male beneath him with a confused look on his face.
Simon smiles, continuing his gentle caress.
“I’d like some tattoos from you.. And I think it would be nice if you had a few from me… If you want, obviously.”
Grace pauses, face still flush.
“Are… are you serious?”
Simon nods, smiling up at his lover.
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
____________________________________
Art Credits in Order: @Neopolitanzz -Pintrest @Juurmom - Pintrest (Last is my own artwork.)
I thought this would be soothing, but with the way my heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest, I’m more a bundle of nerves than anything else.
Don’t get me wrong, being in Simon’s arms is wonderful. But I want more, and that’s what scares me beyond belief. There’s so much we still don’t know about each other.. And I want him to have a partner equally as amazing as him.. I know the future is never certain, but something inside my head is telling me I'm not the one for him. Even if we’re the only two on the planet.
I mean, yeah he is reciprocating, and his cheeks flush pink whenever we get too close, but he could also have Stockholm syndrome from being around only me for too long! I think that’s how that works..?
Anyway, point being, I want him, but I also would hate myself for the rest of eternity if I fucked up whatever is between us.
I squeeze his hand softly, enjoying the warmth of his palm against mine. He lets out a soft hum, pulling me a little closer to his chest. There’s no way this is casual… right? I’m not imagining all this? I’m not secretly dead and this is the afterlife?
“I’m not hallucinating right now?”
Simon chuckles, the noise reverberating against my back.
“No, Grace, you’re not hallucinating right now.”
Well fuck. I did not mean to say that outloud.
I laugh softly, trying to play it off… Maybe since he had absolutely no context to that, he won’t think anything of it.
“Sorry.. I’m thinking.”
I murmur, trying to steer his thinking away from anything that may lead him to think I'm either a creep or madly in love with him.. I mean the latter is right but he doesn’t need to know that right now.
Simon chuckles once more, his hand moving just barely under the hem of my shirt up then up to my stomach. Fingers brushing against my skin as he gently pulls me closer, burying his face against my shoulder, breath warm against my skin.
Okay, yeah. I’m fucked. I’m so so very fucked.
I suck in a breath, trying to focus on the movie, it is my favorite, I should have no issues keeping my attention on it.
Well that would be the case if there wasn't a smoking hot, 200 pound, half deep-sea creature man, hugging me to his chest like I might disappear if he lets go.
I finally give in, letting myself melt in his grasp. The action is met with a soft hum, and a gentle brush of his fingers against my stomach.
I let out a soft sigh, feeling Simon relax behind me, after a few moments, I begin to hear his breathing even out, signaling that he’s asleep.
The feel of his chest rising and falling behind me lulls me into comfort, a smile placing itself on my lips. I’m glad he’s able to sleep, his nightmares have been relentless lately, waking him every few hours. I’ve begun to notice the way his eyes darken, bags just barely formed.
Obviously he hasn’t said anything to me directly, but the way he comes into my room, practically crawling into my arms at night speaks for itself.
I steady my own breathing, allowing myself to fall asleep alongside him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A soft grunt comes from the couch, and I tilt my head up, watching as Simon slowly wakes up, eyes still groggy from sleep. I set down the shirt that I was folding, laying it neatly on the table and walking over to the couch. Leaning against the arm of the couch, I loosely cross my arms over my chest, watching as Simon sits up, slowly wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Morning Sleeping Beauty.”
I can’t hold back my chuckle, looking at Simon’s tussled hair and messy clothes,he looks so cute like this. Simon turns his head, gaze now meeting mine.
“Sleeping Beauty..? What’s that?”
I shake my head, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Not a what, a who. Sleeping Beauty is a princess from a popular movie back on Earth.”
Simon nods.
“Do you think we could watch it sometime?”
Gods, he’s adorable.
“Yeah, I'm sure I can make that happen.”
He smiles, running a hand through his hair before pushing to his feet. He stretches his arms over his head, shirt riding up just slightly, exposing part of his stomach. My gaze immediately finds it, cheeks flushing to what I assume is a soft pink, like every other time this man has unintentionally done something attractive.
Simon's smile slowly morphs into a smirk as he slowly walks over to me, footfalls landing soft against the shaggy carpet. He stops in front of me, his hand coming to rest on my chin, gently tilting my jaw up, forcing my gaze to meet his.
“My eyes are up here, Grace.”
I suck in a breath, realizing he caught me staring.
“When did you get so bold..?”
He chuckles, thumb gently stroking my cheek.
“Y’know, I asked myself that same question earlier this morning.”
“Oh really?”
I murmur back, unable to keep my mouth shut. Simon nods, eyes practically lighting up at the way I lean into his touch, seeking the warmth and comfort it provides.
He hums, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“I think you’ve also gotten bolder.”
And then he pulls me closer, closing the gap between us and pressing his lips to mine.
At that moment, it’s like the world had stopped. I always thought the whole ‘time slowing down during an amazing kiss’ was a stupid thing that movies portrayed as being way better than it actually was.
But gods no, this is exactly how the movies described it.
His hand moves, now sliding up my side, gently squeezing my waist. By the time our lips part, we’re both panting, our breaths mingling together due to the close proximity.
“I just want you to know… I've wanted this for a really long time… I’ve wanted you.”
My breath catches once again, eyes meeting his, watching how he waits with baited breath, wanting to hear my reply..
“I-I..”
I can’t stop a laugh from leaving my lips, knowing I probably look insane right now, but I really don’t care. I bring my hands up, wrapping them loosely around his neck.
“I-i’m sorry, i’m just really really happy right now.”
Simon lets out an almost silently sigh of relief, bringing his forehead to rest against mine.
“You scared me for a minute there.”
I roll my eyes, tangling my fingers in the tresses of hair at the nape of his neck.
“I love you a lot, Simon.”
He looks like he’s about to tear up, but a smile rests on his features. His voice cracks just slightly, gaze now down to the floor.
“Are you sure? You won’t.. Regret all of this?”
My lips part, eyes widening just a fraction. I pull him closer, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before speaking.
“Simon, the only thing I regret, is not telling you I love you sooner.”
—————————————————————
Art Credits In Order: @Banillaguts - Insta @Prynicc -Tumbler @Mr_kotets - X
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
stormborns
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
