Eddie Is The Type Of Guy Who Takes Any Opportunity To Kiss You. You’re Helping Him Clean Up After Hellfire

Eddie Headcannon-

Eddie love to watch his Sweetheart get ready in the morning/get ready for bed.

Eddie stands behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean closer to the mirror to apply your makeup. He watches as you prep your skin , apply moisturizer, use different brushes and blenders on your face, his tongue either poking out in concentration or lips pursed together even though he is only a spectator during this process.

You take out your mascara and sweep your lashes with the brush ." Careful Princess."

You laugh." Afraid I'm going to poke myself in the eye?"

"Fucking terrified."

If you take out the eyelash curler he cringes." What the fuck kind of torture device is that?"

You giggle." It curls your lashes Baby. Want me to try it on you?" You curl your lash and he gasps dramatically.

" I think the fuck not. Have you ever pinched your eye lid in there?"

"Once-"

"Fuck Princess." He shivers.

You run liner along your upper and lower lids and he holds his breath. Again you smile." Breathe Baby, I promise it's going to be ok."

" Why do you wear makeup Darlin?"

"It makes me feel more confident in myself."

"You do realize that you are absolutely, positively the most beautiful human being in the world without all that right?"

You smile at the most beautiful human being in the world standing behind you." You are so fucking sweet Edward Munson. "

" It's true. " He leans in and kisses your neck." With or without your fucking perfect "

At the end of the night he watches as you wash the makeup off your face, he will sometimes take the cloth from your hand and carefully wipe around your eyes, biting his lip as he does so. He watches you cleanse, and moisturize again, breathing in the light soft scent of your lotion. He is happy, happy to be a part of this process and happy to have his beautiful fresh faced girl back❤️

Blueberry Muffin (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie notices you're good at sharing your food. A little too good.

Pairings/Relationships: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Established relationship, Food/Eating, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Brief mention of financial concerns, Discussion of trauma from previous relationships

Note: This is something entirely personal to me, it was something my ex did one-upon-a-time ago. But, like with everything else, Eddie Munson is a powerful tool to help you get over some of your issues. This fic might not be the best, but it helped me work through some old issues. And I'm pretty proud of that.

Shoutout to @undead-supernova who inspired me to write this while we were chatting about her excellent fic We Are Going To Be Friends, and @dr-aculaaa who is one of my lifetime mutual trauma ride-or-dies and told me my ex was actually trash (and they were trash).

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

If there was one thing that was the key to yours and Eddie's relationship, it was food.

Before there even had been a relationship, food had been one of the keystones of your friendship. You met at a friend's thanksgiving potluck, you always planned your outings around where you'd eat and the snacks you’d get, and during the group road trip up to Milwaukee for Mac and Cheese Fest, he'd finally gotten the courage to ask you out.

Food was life. You both agreed.

You were always good about sharing your food.

You, as in the two of you, sure. But specifically you.

It wasn't until the two of you were together and spent more time alone with each other that Eddie realized just how good you were at sharing.

Actually, good wasn't the right word.

Meticulous was more accurate.

If you took a bite of his burger when you went out for dinner, he had to have a bite of your pasta.

If you bought a pint of ice cream to share during movie night, you matched each bite spoon for spoon. However, if after a certain point of sharing he insisted that you could have the rest of the pint because it was your favorite flavor, the pint would inevitably make it back into the freezer without another spoonful taken.

On and on it went.

He tried to ignore it, but once he noticed it, it was hard not to.

At first, he thought that it was some relic of a less-than well-off childhood. Like Eddie, you'd grown up with a single parent and were occasionally foisted off on well-intentioned relatives to watch you while your mom worked. Thankfully, food was never scarce for either of you, but the fact that you'd been forced to grow up quicker than the others made you aware of generic-branded groceries and your mothers stretching their dollars and the pursing of lips when the bills came for special occasion meals out.

After a while, though, that reasoning disappeared. Yes, there were still habits that you formed from your mother's frugality but never to the point of anxiety.

This was something else.

And it all came to a head the day you brought home a bag of leftovers from work.

"Tom always orders too much when the execs visit the warehouse," you explained excitedly as you proudly showed off a plastic container of some gourmet salad and a few wax paper-wrapped sandwiches.

Then came the pastries.

A cherry danish you grabbed for Eddie specifically, and a pistachio-cream filled croissant that Eddie had heard you gush about a million times over. A few tiny cream puffs that both of you eagerly popped into your mouths.

And one blueberry muffin.

"Oh!" You faltered at the sight of it and then looked back into the obviously empty paper bag. "I thought there had been two."

"That's ok," Eddie shrugged. "We can just split it."

"No!" you snapped at him, your eyes wide. "You can have it."

"Sweetheart, I know you love muffins as much as I do," Eddie scoffed. "We'll just split it. No big deal. It's a pretty big muffin."

He watched as you worried at your lower lip for a long, drawn out moment before you nodded.

He kissed the side of your head and turned to grab plates and drinks. He carried as much as he could out to the living room so you could eat dinner in front of the TV. When he returned to your side to grab the food and start plating up your plunder, he stopped in his tracks at what he found.

Splitting a muffin was a no-brainer, typically. Or so Eddie thought. Just peel the paper lining and split that sucker in half. But there you stood, knife held in a shaky hand, shifting back and forth a few millimeters every so often, trying to find the exact equator of the confection before you so it could be cut in equal halves.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked as gently as he could, but you still flinched, and when you looked up at him, your eyes looked glassy.

"Just cutting the muffin in half," you tried to laugh and play it off, but Eddie could see through the facade.

"It's just a muffin," he tried to offer, as though reminding you that it was, indeed, just a muffin would break you from this fit.

"It is," you looked down again, almost in shame. "Isn't it?"

He let you have a second, let you put the knife down and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. When you nodded and held yourself a little more confidently, Eddie closed the distance and split the muffin in half by hand, right down the middle along the score line you had started.

And he pretended that he didn't notice the way you'd held your breath while he did it.

"Let's have dinner then," he suggested.

---

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Eddie asked once dinner was almost over, his mouth full of cherry danish, crumbs spewing from his lips as he spoke.

You ignored him for a second, picked at your own laminated pastry, until he continued.

"You know I always thought your mom really hammered the sharing is caring thing with you. But you went full King Solomon on that muffin and...I know that look in your eyes because I've seen it in the mirror a ton of times. That was fear. That was pain. So, are we gonna talk about it?"

You sighed and considered telling him no, you wouldn't be telling him jack shit, but...how many times had you pried into things that you really had no place asking about and he still told you anyway. That's how communication worked; that's how a relationship worked.

And that was how you got into this mess wasn't it?

"You remember my shitty ex?" you began tentatively, with a question.

"Shitty ex Number 1," Eddie scoffed. "Or shitty ex Number 2?"

"Number two."

"Should've known," he said under his breath but nodded for you to continue. "Alright, so what else did they do?"

Because the list had been...extensive already, you were loath to admit.

But you were with Eddie now, and things were infinitely better. You could work through these hurdles with him.

"It all started when we still worked at the mall together," you began. "Before we even started dating, actually. We'd meet on breaks and shoot the shit and one day, the little bakery only had one blueberry muffin."

You glared at the split muffin sitting on a plate on the coffee table, as though it was at fault, and not your ex.

"We decided to split it. Nothing wrong with that. We only had a fifteen, it was just a snack. But when they went to split the muffin...they took the muffin top, and left me with the stump."

"The...stump?" Eddie asked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"Yeah," you leaned forward and tapped on the base of the muffin that had previously been encased in paper. "The stump."

"That's...only assholes split a muffin that way." He paused and considered it. "But it's Shitty Ex Number Two. So I shouldn't expect anything less."

"I didn't think anything of it then," you continued. "Or the next hundred times we split a blueberry muffin on breaks, even when we started dating. They would always get the delicious, crispy, sugary muffin top, and I would always get the stump. Half-clinging to the wrapper, maybe a blueberry burned on the bottom. Never an equal half, always less-than!

"Until one day, there was this especially delicious looking muffin. It wasn't even at the mall, we were on a real date! At a real, nice bakery. With blueberry muffins, because that was our thing, and I made the mistake of asking if I could have the muffin top. Just once. And they looked at me like...like I just asked them to sacrifice their mother or something."

You felt your lip tremble, and the familiar sting of tears in your eyes.

That sense of loathing that you always felt when you thought of that moment, or really any time you got a blueberry muffin.

You took a breath and said, "they just told me that if I really loved them, I would let them have the damn muffin top. Because it was their favorite."

"That's bullshit!" Eddie got to his feet, arms thrown up in the air. "Sorry sweetheart, that's bullshit and, I'm sorry but, you deserved so much better. You deserve to have half a muffin. Half of the whole muffin, not just the stump. Fuck, you deserve the whole damn muffin yourself! It’s just a muffin!"

"I know!" You shouted back at him, causing him to stop his ranting and raving. "Don't you think I know that? It’s just a muffin and I shouldn’t have had to make myself accept less than what I deserved but it was the first in a long line of things where they made me feel like I wasn’t worth half. I wasn’t worth anything. And if I tried to prove that I was, to them and to myself, I would look crazy. Because it’s just a muffin.

“That's why I started...that's why I started taking what I deserved. I started taking half, instead of giving everything Eddie. If you get a bite, I get a bite. With everything. Because I deserve it!"

You thought of the way you had to meticulously tried to split the blueberry muffin earlier.

"Maybe...maybe I take it a little too far sometimes," you muttered, letting the tears finally fall. "Because I don't want to be selfish like they were, and take more from you than you deserve."

"Baby," Eddie dropped back onto the couch and corralled you into his embrace, pecking kisses to the side of your head. "Who fucking cares? Don't worry about me. Shit, I'll give you anything you want. I'll take anything you leave behind. I'll give you my whole cheeseburger at Benny's, if only you asked for it. And if you left me one singular pickle chip, I'd take it without complaint."

"I would never ask you," you laughed wetly.

“No, but you could ask, that’s the point. And I would give it to you.”

"I know I could. And I know you would...I just...I can't break myself from the habit. Not yet, at least."

"I get it," Eddie said into your hair as he continued dropping kisses. "The shitty exes leave their scars and you do your best to keep from opening the wounds up again. I get it."

You knew. You both had your fair share of scars.

---

It took a few minutes, as you basked in one another's comforting presence, before you inevitably shared the damn muffin you brought home. Eddie insisted on letting you take an extra bit off his muffin top, even when you rolled your eyes and told him to stop.

Neither of you brought it up again for a few days, but you both were a little more conscientious when you shared food.

You made nachos for his Friday night DnD session with the guys and he left you the core nacho that held everything together; it was extra gooey with cheese, and loaded with jalapeños. You made sure to take an extra big bite of his pint of rocky road when he offered, even if he didn't want a single bite of your rum raisin. And when it was his turn to take bites of your food, you didn't pay attention to how much or how little he took.

It still felt a little wrong, but it was insanely healing. You didn't need to worry about keeping things fair and equal with Eddie; your relationship was already fair and you were equals.

And of course, Eddie kept your revelation at the forefront of his mind to hold you accountable to your own bullshit. He noticed when you fell into old habits before you could and even came up with a form of punishment if you subconsciously made sure to take the same number of bites off a shared plate as he did:

He would give you a vegetable off his plate.

"I'm not a fan of broccoli anyway," he grinned cheekily, waving his fork with the aforementioned green in front of your face one night at dinner.

"You're an idiot," you shook your head, but took the bite regardless.

It was slow and steady, but you were getting over the hurdle together.

Then one day, the unexpected happened.

You were at work, doing your little mindless computer work as you did, when your coworker called your name from the front of the office.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Jill laughed as she hauled something through the sea of cubicles.

"No, did someone get me flowers or something?" you asked and stood from your desk to meet her halfway.

"You can't eat flowers," she said as she turned the corner, holding a massive basket.

Full of blueberry muffins.

You didn't need to read the card tied to the cellophane-wrapped basket full of baked goods to know who it was from, but you did anyway to satisfy your coworkers' curiosity.

And they didn't quite understand it, but it made your heart melt.

I didn't ask if they sold a basket of only the tops, because I didn't want them to think either of us were sociopaths. It’s just a blueberry muffin. But you're worth every muffin in this damn basket, sweetheart. Never forget that. Love, Eddie

some nerds in love, anybody?

You call Eddie Jupiter - the planet, not the god - and depending on who asks him why exactly that is, he either answers 'None of your business,' or 'Because I'm massive' with a stupidly smug grin that is so incredibly stupidly smug because it's not even a lie albeit not all of the story.

Jupiter spins faster than any other planet in our solar system and so does Eddie's mind, manifesting in ever-tapping feet and fingers and the quickest mouth around.

Jupiter has many, many moons most of them small; like his Hellfire kids. What started out as collecting strays in High School has now become a project hosted by the local youth club and you have long lost count over how many kids orbit him on the regular. And then there are the big moons: Ganymede (Jeff), Io (Erica), Europa (Ronnie) and Callisto (Gareth, who's also amazing on guitar, as it turns out)

Jupiter has Rings. Fainter than those of Saturn but Eddie's ring collection changes from big, loud and clunky to... less big and... less clunky over the years.

Jupiter's magnetic field is the strongest in our solar system and you just can't fucking stay away from him... (It's not called Eddy Currents for nothing, right?) (Same goes for gravity, of course.)

Jupiter's days only last 10 hours and time fucking flies when you're with him, always seems to pass too fast.

"And Jupiter is fucking beautiful," you say and Eddie tries to hide the blush high on his cheeks by pressing a kiss to your temple. "There is more!"

"Hmmm, there is always more inside that head of yours," he cups your cheeks, presses two quick kisses to your lips and your foreheads together. "But I have to shut you up now... feel like crashing into the sun..."

-Young Dad!Eddie who has lost his high-school sweetheart to childbirth, and is now left all alone with his newborn baby girl.

-Young Dad!Eddie who's trying so desperately to ignore his grief that he barely even lets himself sleep for the first several weeks of his daughter's life.

-Young Dad!Eddie who struggles to accept help from Wayne or Robin and  Steve...anyone really...because he's trying so hard to do right by the love he's lost.

-Young Dad!Eddie that's determined to prove to himself that he's going to be able to take care of this angel that he's been left with.

-Young Dad!Eddie that owes everything to Wayne, who takes care of his little love all day long so that Eddie can work double, or even triple shifts to make ends meet.

-Young Dad!Eddie that lives to hold his baby girl. Who sits in bed alone with his newborn and giggles to himself as she clumsily tries to nurse the tip of his nose or the apple of his cheek.

-Young Dad!Eddie who carries a snapshot of his daughter's sweet, drooly, toothless grin in his wallet...right along side a well-loved, dog-earred one of her mom.

-Young Dad!Eddie that's so lonely, but can't stomach the idea of trying to meet someone new, despite his loved ones' encouragement

-Young Dad!Eddie who has a deeply buried streak of separation anxiety.

-Young Dad!Eddie who sometimes talks to the photo of his daughter's mother that sits on his beside table...mumbling to her about their baby girl as he drifts off at night.

-Young!Dad Eddie that feels his loneliness so deep in his stomach...like a painful knot.

-Young Dad!Eddie who can feel his body physically relax when he's finally able to scoop up his girl and kiss her chubby little cheeks at the end of his day. 

-Young Dad!Eddie that sings little songs and blows raspberries against his baby's bare tummy to hear her squeal and giggle so loudly.

-Young Dad!Eddie that holds his daughter's tiny foot up to his ear. Hello? Oh, it's for you, ma'am.

-Young Dad!Eddie who lets his angel yank his curls to her little heart's content

-Young Dad!Eddie who will often fall asleep with his daughter resting against his bare chest (even though he's technically not supposed to) because he needs her with him.

***********

I want to make this a fic so bad. What do you guys think?

Precious angry squirrel 🐿️

✦ steddie munching gifsets ✦

people thinking that sakusa’s being maltreated because of the bruises on his forearm, but the truth is . .

Sakusa is known to always wear his compression sleeves on and off the court for post-game press conferences. It completed his signature look. His overall flair.

Everything seemed normal at first, but it wasn’t long before murmurs surfaced through the room. Reporters exchanged glances, some scrolling through their phones, others whispering among themselves.

The reason? For the first time in a long while, Sakusa wasn’t wearing his compression sleeves.

His toned forearms were exposed for everyone to see, and to the media’s surprise, they weren’t completely unblemished. Faint bruises and clusters of reddish dots speckled his skin—nothing severe, but noticeable enough to raise eyebrows. Some looked older, fading into his skin, while others were more recent.

The questions were bound to come.

“Sakusa-san, many fans have noticed that you’re not wearing your usual sleeves today. And, well…” she hesitated, gesturing vaguely at his arms.

“There’s been a lot of speculation about the marks on your skin. Is everything alright?”

Sakusa blinked once, his expression unreadable. He glanced down at his arms, clearly catching onto what she meant. A moment of silence passed before he let out a slow exhale through his nose.

He knew this would happen eventually.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Then, into the mic, he deadpanned, “I’m fine.”

The room remained unconvinced.

Sakusa could already imagine what the internet was saying. Rumors were probably spreading like wildfire—was he getting into fights? Had he been injured in training? Worse, was something happening at home?

“If I may, are those from mosquitos? With the recent outbreak of mosquitos due to the warm weather, could it be from those?”

“No.”

“Allergies, perhaps?”

“None.”

A few more reporters shuffled in their seats, hesitant but clearly eager to dig deeper.

Then, another one asked, “Just to clarify, you’re saying these marks aren’t from… any sort of external conflict?”

Sakusa’s brow twitched. He leaned forward slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask as he adjusted the mic, and let out another small sigh. “I’m not being abused, if that’s what people are implying.”

The room went silent. His fellow players exchanged approving nods, letting their teammate handle the situation.

“My wife is in medical school,” Sakusa continued, his voice even, matter-of-fact. “She’s refreshing her phlebotomy skills, and I often volunteer to be her patient whenever she needs someone for a demo or assignment.”

The silence stretched for a moment before a few quiet chuckles broke through, some from relief, others from sheer amusement at the unexpected explanation. Well, it wasn’t often Sakusa talked about you.

“So… you’re saying these marks are from blood extractions?”

“Yes,” he answered, tilting his head slightly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “She wants to practice, and I’d rather help her than have her struggle to find volunteers.”

Hinata whispered something to Bokuto, but even with the low volume of the mic, Sakusa still caught it.

“That’s kinda romantic.”

He turned his head slightly to glare at them, but Bokuto was already grinning. “No, but really! That’s, like, peak husband material. You’re not even fond of monthly checkups.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Meian chuckled. “You’re literally letting someone practice on you repeatedly. That’s dedication.”

Reporters were already typing away, some clearly rewriting their headlines. What had started as a potentially scandalous story had turned into something else entirely.

The media had long known Sakusa to be a private person, almost aggressively so. He rarely spoke about his personal life, and to this day, many fans still couldn’t believe he was married. Out of all the MSBY Black Jackals players, Sakusa and your marriage are by far the most private.

It wouldn’t even have been known if it weren’t for Hinata’s post with the newly wedded couple a year ago!

And yet, here he was, casually revealing that he lets you practice medical procedures on him just to support your studies.

“Is she any good?” another reporter asked, grinning now. “At phlebotomy?”

His eyes narrowed briefly. “Her undergraduate course is medical laboratory science—so yes, she’s been doing this for years.”

“And you’ve never complained?”

He shrugged. That was the stupidest question he’s heard today.

“Why would I? She supports me in my career. The least I can do is support her in hers.”

The room was quiet for a second before a wave of approving murmurs spread across the lobby area. The tension had completely shifted.

Bokuto grinned. “Man, you’re really down bad for your wife, huh?”

Sakusa sighed, clearly regretting every life decision that led him to sitting next to Bokuto in this moment. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to volleyball.”

Hinata laughed. “It’s not, but it’s fun to watch you get all flustered as you tell them more about [Last Name], Omi!”

“I’m not flustered,” Sakusa muttered, tugging at his jersey sleeve slightly as if contemplating whether he should just start wearing them all the time again to avoid situations like this.

“Like hell ye aren’t,” Atsumu snorted.

By the time the conference ended, social media had already latched onto the revelation.

#SakusaBestHusband started trending almost immediately, with fans gushing over how unexpectedly sweet he was. Some joked that they wanted a “Sakusa-level” of support in their relationships.

-

You had been watching the press conference from your laptop at home, your face buried in your hands as your notifications blew up.

A few minutes later, Sakusa messaged you.

Kiyoomi: I hate the internet.

You: And they love you, actually.

Kiyoomi: They won’t shut up about me letting you stab me with needles.

You: You do let me stab you with needles.

Kiyoomi: It’s more than that. Ugh, people don’t educate themselves enough about your profession

Kiyoomi: And it sounds worse when you say it like that.

You laughed, shaking your head.

You: Well, you are the best husband in the whole world ever. You kind of brought this on yourself.

He didn’t reply right away, and you assumed he was on his way back home. But when your phone buzzed again, your heart warmed at the short but sincere message.

Kiyoomi: You’re worth it. Be home in 20 minutes

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

hawks telling you that he'll find you in every lifetime, bc didn't you know? birds are born with a map encoded into their dna, they remember migratory routes through generations, they always know where to go, to follow the innate magnetism of the earth. except, for him, you are that guiding force, so no matter what, no matter how many lives and parallel universes it spans, he'll always find his way back to you.

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

Another little soft mechanic!Sukuna drabble because I love him ;( gets literally a biiit suggestive but it’s not super smutty!

“I don’- thin’- she like- dat.”

You groggily turn around, woke up by your boyfriend’s mumbles. You didn’t really catch what he said, but you just want to sleep, so you don’t pay it no mind. You scoot further on your side of the bed and start to fall asleep again, when he gets back on saying random things.

“Range Rov’r… so small… wan’ marr- ‘her…“

“Sukuna, stop, I’m tired, I can’t sleep with you talking” you respond, giving him a delicate shake. He’s tired too, you know it, and that’s why he’s talking in his sleep: he only does that when he’s exhausted. For the last month he’s been working extra hours at the garage he owns, saying it’s because “you both deserve a great vacation this year”. When you asked why, he rolled his eyes and ignored you. The tips of his ears were red.

He whines, barely waking up. He slightly opens one eye, sees you far away from him on your shared bed and scowls. Lately you haven’t been together a lot, apart from the times you try to study in his office with your headphones on to not hear him curse like a sailor, or, well, like a mechanic. He wraps one of his arms around your naked waist and bumps your body against his own.

“Gotcha,” he hoarsely says. You chuckle lightly then try wiggling away to sleep again, but he doesn’t budge. The long hours he spends under the cars have given him the most amazing muscles you’ve ever seen, but those come with a lot of strength too.

You relax in his hold while he draws random patterns on your skin with his calloused hand. It’s summer, you’re both naked because he says he likes to feel your skin on his. The only time you complained about being sweaty he grinned and said he knew other ways to make you sweaty, so now you only bring out the topic when you want to get dicked down good and fast.

You reach around his body to place your hand on his back, head below his chin. You could kiss his neck if you’d pucker your lips a little, that’s how close you are. You’re starting to fall asleep again when he whispers in your ear something you don’t understand.

“What?” You ask softly.

“… lov’ ya,” he slurs, before beginning to snore a bit. You smile to yourself, getting impossibly closer to him and drifting off to sleep.

when you start dating kiyoomi, he tells you at your first sleepover that he doesn’t like to be touched when waking up. it’s nothing personal; he just tells you he needs to get his bearings in the morning, so he prefers not to be cuddled while he sleeps. it sucks when you’re tired and just want to latch on to him and curl into his warmth, but everyone has their boundaries, and you respect them.

it’s only after the first few months of sleepovers that the apologies when you find yourself cuddled up against him as you blink awake are returned with dismissive hmphs as he curls his muscled arm back around your waist and pulls you close again.

and it’s only a couple months after that when you start waking up to a weight against your hot skin, because kiyoomi has sought out your touch as soon as he regains conscience in the mornings. and the rare times you wake up before him, he comes shuffling into the living room, blanket around his broad shoulders, and pout on his sleepy face as he curls up into you, waiting for your fingers to curl into his locks and lull him back to sleep.