Anime And Sonic Brainrot

Currently rly into dcst, Psycho pass (Ginoza) and Sth (Knuckles) also I’m an adult MDNI

[yuujispunches]

Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[coralbae]

The storm outside is unrelenting, even more so than the arugment brewing inside your shared home with Satoru. The two of you continue raising your voices at each other, but it's almost like the universe itself begging you to stop by drowning out the sound.

Exasperated, you so desperately want to yell at Satoru to get your point across, thought it's something you’d promised yourself to never do. Closing your eyes, unclenching and clearing your fists then taking a long, deep breath, you turn away from Satoru, dragging your feet towards the front door of your shared home.

You need space, maybe some fresh air will do you some good. The allure of the rain outside washing away your woes and sorrows is too tempting. Maybe the ice cold droplets will help you cool off.

After moments of silence, save for the clattering of the rain against the roof and occasional bang of thunder, you feel his presence behind you, but you don’t want to turn around, scared to see the look on his face after all the hurtful words you fired at him.

He reaches out - curse his long ass limbs - and beats you putting a hand on the doorknob. That's when you turn to look at his face, solemn expression a far cry from his usual, cheery self. He looks at you, smiling weakly as he pulls the door open, ‘You stay, I'll go. You shouldn’t be out there.’

And just as he’s one foot out of the door as the harsh wind hits you just like your realisation, you reach for his arm, holding tight. Knowing that he still puts you first in the midst of an argument, you know in your heart that everything will be okay. ‘Don’t go,’ you plead.

‘I thought you wanted some space?’ he asks, but you shake your head, ‘I thought I did, but I know we’ll work it out. Even though you’re pissing me off right now, I'd rather be mad and know you're safe than worrying about what could be happening to you out there.’

Smiling, a genuine one this time, he kicks the door shut and drags you to the couch, flopping on it and pulling you on top of him. ‘We’re not going to bed until we talk it out, okay? I refuse to go to bed mad at each other.’

Trapped in his arms and safe from the cold, he speaks to you so gently, as you pout and play with his hair and that’s almost enough to make you forget why you were arguing in the first place.

a/n: first solo drabble kinda nervy

this has been bouncing in my brain ever since its been pissing down non stop for the last few weeks 💔 time to splash some cyclists

also practicing some writing before i work on a (not very) super duper top secret project <3 and the fake dating au which is collecting dust

[fukur0shi]

Fuku! Could I please have 10 with Atsuya?

Oh, you like that? (KusaReader) mdni!

“Fuck- you feel amazing,” Kusakabe praised, gruff voice breathy and husky as he had you splayed in front of him. He was barely pulling out before burying his cock all the way back in, one hand plastered on the plush of your hip and the other over your shoulder. He was hypnotized by the hair you had falling over the back of your neck, which made its graceful way down your back.

He was rolling his hips into you, taking his sweet time in between your moans and mewls for his name, and progressively getting lost in the feeling of it, his cock sliding against your glistened, soft and throbbing folds. Kusakabe drove his hand mindlessly to the nape of your head, and grabbed a handful of hair, giving it a tug.

It was like a special button had been pressed. It sent a shockwave of pure pleasure down your spine, having you arching your back, plumping up your ass to take him even deeper and the whimpers that tumbled out of your mouth had him shuddering in pure bliss.

“Oh… you like that?” He inquired, with a dose of playfulness in his already panting breath. You mm-hmm him to the best of your abilities, having your brain turning to absolute mush the instant the tugged at your hair again, softly tilting your head back, projecting the towering muscles of your neck in an arch.

“God… ah… You’re so fucking pliable like this- fuck,”

Some primal urge took complete hold of him, an urge of taking you and dominating you completely.

With one single, strong grip, he lifted you towards him only with a hold on your hair, and your mouth fell open in a mixture of a moan and a whimper, your hands making their way to the back of his neck once your shoulder blades met his chest.

“Is it good?” He asked, his warm breath tickling the skin on the edge of your ear like molasses. You whispered him a yes, Atsu, please, more and it snapped something inside him.

In a second, he used his grip on your hair to tilt your head to the side, buried his teeth on the side of your neck, robbing you of moans and cries, and began rutting relentlessly against you. His other hand made its way towards your clit, circling and massaging it so eagerly he had you seeing stars. Out of his mouth came nothing but animalistic grunts as he chased both your releases.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm came crashing down on you like waves on the shore, and your entire body jerked as you cried out his name. Your walls fluttered and pressed all around his cock, milking him dry, having him cum shortly after with a shout muffled against the bite he still had very much pressed against your skin.

You were both panting while coming down from one of the most intense highs yet.

“Shit… I had no idea… you liked that so much…”

[polinomnom]

Some tenderness

I had to get back to my commissions but i couldnt resist making my warm-up sketch kusahigu haha ✨

[dark-akademiker]

My favourite coward.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Noé getting reduced to a teary-eyed, whimpering mess by his femdom s/o?

tags: bdsm, mistress/pet, bondage, noé bimbo aesthetic, f/m

Noé had never been drowned before, but he had to imagine this was what it was like.

The constant gasping for air that never quite filled his lungs. The struggle to keep focused on just keeping your head above. The moments of listlessness when your mind floats between trying to catch up and surrendering to the black. “Stay with me Noé.”

His head lulled back in a dim, empty headed sort of way. Like his brains are sloshing around in his skull for want of thoughts, as he obeyed his mistress. She doesn’t even need to tilt his head up with the tilt of her finger. He’d follow the sound of her voice anywhere.

“That’s it. Such a good boy.” Noé let out an opened mouth whine as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. His mouth is open so he can try to get air into his lungs. Surely not to speak as he couldn’t think of words right now. All his mouth was good for was breathing, drooling, and servicing his mistress.

“You’ve done so well, my love. You’re always so obedient for me.”

‘Anything for you’ he wants to tell her, but all he can get out is a gurgle of a moan in appreciation.

“Oh, if only I could keep you like this forever. Lust drunk. Practically paralyzed with overstimulation. Just keep you here with me forever, tied up like this, blindfolded in the dark. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

‘Yes! Yes! Yes! Forever!’ Noé lifted up on his knees towards his mistress, as much as his binds would allow. Oh, how wonderful that would be indeed. To never have to fight monsters again. To never have to deal with liars. To never have to worry about people’s intentions, or false faces. To only be hurt when he asked for it, begged for it. To do nothing but live and love and serve his mistress for all eternity. He wanted to cry it sounded so perfect.

Noé wanted to actually cry when his mistress pushed him down. Back on his knees, sitting on his ankles, where he belonged. He should have known better. So stupid.

“Don’t say that!” His mistress snapped. Had he actually said that bit out loud? “You are not stupid. You, are my perfect, sweet Noé. Don’t ever forget that.”

He nuzzled eagerly into the hand that touched his cheek. A tear actually spilling out from under his blindfold but he couldn’t tell what it was from now. Desire, torment, relief. It all swirled around inside his body and empty head that he couldn’t make up from down. “Shall we make love now, my precious Noé?”

Then his world was righted again. Hyper focused. Noé nodded so hard that he might have given himself whiplash, but he didn't care. All of this had been leading up to this moment: release. The teasing. The binding. The sweet words and harsh cracks of her crop against his skin. All of it just for this.

He suddenly remembered how hard his cock was and how much it hurt. Noé whimpered. His thighs rubbing together to try and relieve some of the pressure. "Awww....I know honey. It must hurt now, doesn't it." He nodded. Whining out confirmation from his throat before he was panting in sharp breathes as she cupped him. He had been desperate for her touch, but now that he had it it was too much. "You want to cum, don't you Noé? Make you feel good."

He whimpered out something close to a yes again. His body quivering as he tries to stay still and not cum. He hadn't been given permission. But he wants so badly to fuck himself into her hand that it hurts almost as bad as his cock.

His world went tumbling when his mistress pushed him back. When had there been a pillow behind him? Was he on the bed? Noé expected the sharp bite of the floor against his back, but instead was met with soft linens. He moaned almost as loudly as when he was being touched. Surrounded by softness he melted into the bedding. What little of his senses fading away as he sunk deeper into the plush fabric.

“Stay with me Noé.” She repeated to him, and he was really trying.

His bed shifted. Her feet on either side of him as she stood over him. He couldn’t see it with the blindfold, but he could sense it. Her looming presence all consuming him. He whimpered to be dominated further by it. His mistress kneeled to straddle him and Noé hissed like the savage humans painted his species as as his erection brushed against the front of her. How the tables had turned in the story. The strong, fierce, blood crazy monster all but broken before his weak, defenseless, human mistress.

“I’m going to fuck you now Noé.” She told him while stroking his cock. Stroke was a strong word, however, as it was just her fingertips caressing him. “I’m going to fill myself with your cock and ride you. Use you for my pleasure.” ‘Use me! Use me!’ “You’re going to feel so good inside me. You always do. Don’t worry, it won’t be long. I’ve been so turned on watching you fall apart that I’ll be cumming very soon. Then, and only then, I’ll let you cum, my precious. Sounds like a deal?”

There was no sweeter deal that the devil could offer him. Noé mustered up all what little strength, mental capacity, and just plain voice he could to utter out one single word. “Yes.” It was all he could say. All he needed to. His mistress raised herself up and sunk down on his cock, and Noé screamed like he had been stabbed; instead of him being the one stabbing her.

His mistress was indeed wet. Drenched, actually. He took a small amount of comfort in knowing that she really had been turned on by him. Aroused by his presence. Desired him. It’s a subconscious thought at best, however, as all he can legitimately think about right now is the primal instinct to fuck & cum, but holding on to what little restraint he had left to not do so until his mistress told him.

“Almost….there…!”

Noé’s teeth grit. He could taste his own blood his jaw was locked so tight. He didn’t think he had it in him to hold on. He was crying, wailing, begging. Noé wasn’t sure what he was doing until he heard those wonderful words that would set him free. “Yes Noé! Yes! Cum from me! Give it to me my love!”

He came extremely hard. To the point that the darkness behind his blindfold was a moot point as his mental vision even darkened as he came and came for what seemed like hours.

When it was over, Noé realized that his mistress wasn’t on top of him anymore. He jerked up, or as much as his exhausted body could, but then a cool hand and a cool rag was placed on him. “Not too fast. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Noé sighed as he felt the rag wash over his body to clean him. His oversensitive, overstimulated body soaking in the coolness eagerly. His breath calming down. His mind coming back to him.

“I’m gonna take the blindfold off now. Close your eyes.”

He does, immediately. The covering is removed and Noé slowly opened his eyes. Vampire eyes were very sensitive. It’s why they used the blindfold in the first place. But he had to adjust to the light when they were done playing. His arms were next. Untethered behind his back now, and they fall forward limp into his lap.

“Are you alright?” Noé nodded. He still didn’t have the mental capacity to speak. His head lulled forward to rest on his mistress’s shoulder. Her arms coming up around him instantly. Smoothing his hair. “My sweet Noé….”

She continued to shower him with quiet, soft praise as his mind succumbed to black again. Only this time to sleep. He was exhausted. Sated. When he woke up he and his mistress would go back to the world, play their normal roles instead of the ones they played here. For now, he would hold on to the ones they had in here, in this room. Where he was her perfect, willing, obedient pet, and she would be the one to take care of him.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hi! Could I request Noé being comforted by his partner after he woke up from a nightmare?

Noé had nightmares as a child, but they went away when he went to stay with Louis & Domi. Returning briefly after Louis’s demise, but then free of them again for most of his adult life.

But they were never like this.

It seemed every night now Noéwould have a nightmare.

Waking up in cold sweats (if he was lucky) or locked into his mind to fight the monsters in his mind.

Tonight, he was lucky. He woke up with a jolt out of bed. Gasping for air to fill his lungs as he felt like he had been drowning. Was he drowning in the dream? Or was it just a general feeling of dread and being pulled down that he felt? “Another bad dream?”

Noé turned to his side to see [Y/N] laying beside him. They were awake too now. He felt guilty about that. Noé nodded and [Y/N] immediately sat up with him. “Would you like me to make you some tea?” He shook his head.

Sometimes tea helped. A nice soothing chamomile or special blend they had found to help with sleep, out on the Paris streets, but he felt like he couldn’t keep it down right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head again.

Talking about it felt like it would make it more real. That it would speak life into his nightmares. Noé knew that was ridiculous, but he couldn’t risk it. So he would remain silent on the visions that plagued him.

“Do you want a hug?”

Noé didn’t answer this time. Just turned and wrapped his arms around [Y/N].

He clung to them like a life raft to save him from this drowning feeling. Keep him afloat. Keep him sane. “Thank you.” He muttered into their collarbone as he held them and let himself be held in return.

“I didn’t do anything.” [Y/N] insisted.

But to Noé it was everything.

[yuujispunches]

Old vinyls and kitchen lights ~ N.K.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: Nanami invites you over for dinner and as Frank Sinatra plays in the background everything falls right into place.

CW (content warning): literally nothing, this is just tooth rotting fluff.

AN: Hi guys! I just saw a post here asking for someone to write Nanami dancing to old vinyls and I just had to give it a go. This is shorter than my usual works but I really like how it turned out. English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You had been seeing Nanami for a little while now. It was perfect, he was respectful, thoughtful and a gentleman above all. He treated you like a princess and everything with him just seemed so easy, everything falling into place when he was around. You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made you feel like he did so when your phone screen lighted up, displaying his name and a message that read:

Dinner at mine tonight? I’ll cook.

You jumped at the opportunity without even thinking twice about it. You could tell he had overthought it by how simple the message was. Nanami Kento never did things halfway. Not in battle, not in work, and certainly not with you.

——————————————————————————

His apartment reflected him in every corner: clean lines, calm colors, everything curated with a purpose. You stepped in, and instantly, the world felt slower. Safer.

He greeted you in a crisp button-down, sleeves already rolled up, and an apron tied around his waist and somehow, even that looked dignified on him.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He said as he ushered you in.

The table was already set, candles flickering gently. A soft crackle stirred from the corner of the room, the vinyl player was already turning. And then came that familiar, velvety voice: Frank Sinatra.

You smiled. “You put this on for me?”

He nodded. “I remembered you said you grew up hearing this kind of music. I thought it might feel… comfortable.”

"Fly Me to the Moon" played as you sat, and everything, from the meal and the wine to the soft glances shared between bites felt suspended in something tender and unspoken.

But Kento was clearly on edge tonight. Not in a bad way. He was just… careful. Quiet. His eyes flicked to you too often, and when your fingers brushed as you reached for the wine, he pulled his back a beat too late. Like he didn’t want to lose contact but couldn’t quite let himself linger.

You didn’t say anything about it. You just gave him time. He always bloomed slower than most but oh was he worth the wait.

——————————————————————————

After dinner, he moved to tidy the plates, but got up and followed after him, grabbing his wrist gently right before he opened the sink.

“Wait.” You said, your voice low, nearly drowned by the start of another song: “Bewitched”.

He turned to you, confused.

“Dance with me.” You asked, smiling.

There was a pause and that was rare for Nanami. He always had a plan, a schedule. But now, he just… blinked as if he was utterly confused by your simple ask.

“In the kitchen?” He said, as if it were the most foreign concept.

You laughed softly. “Yes, in the kitchen. Right here. Come on.”

He hesitated. His lips parted like he wanted to make an excuse, something about not being good at it, or how ridiculous he probably felt. But instead, he slowly let the dish towel drop.

You reached for his hand, and his palm met yours. Firm, but slightly trembling.

“Is this okay?” You asked gently.

He nodded once. “I just… haven’t done this in a very long time.”

“You don’t have to know the steps.” You said. “Just move with me.”

Your voice was so soft and gentle and you looked up at him with eyes that made him feel that the world around him wasn’t so bad if you were in it, how could he say no to that?

You guided his hands, one resting cautiously on your waist, the other still in yours. The music wrapped around you both, and soon you were swaying in time, your heads tilted just enough to feel each other's breath.

Nanami relaxed in stages. First in his shoulders, then his hold on you, and finally in the way his forehead touched yours.

The light from the dining room flickered softly behind you. The world narrowed to the two of you and the hum of Sinatra.

“I don’t understand how you do this.” He murmured suddenly.

You looked up at him. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured slightly, the hand on your waist gripping just a little tighter. “Make me feel like this. Like the world is quiet, even when it shouldn’t be.”

You smiled, heart thudding. “Maybe it’s not about understanding it. Maybe it’s just… letting yourself feel it.”

And that was when he froze, only for a second, like he’d just realized something. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

“I love you.” He said suddenly, clearly, as if the words had been building pressure inside him for weeks. “I’ve known it for a while. I didn’t want to say it until I was sure, but- ”

You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the way it rose with his next breath. “You’re sure now?”

He nodded, his voice quieter. “Completely.”

You leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his, and when you pulled back, you whispered,

“I love you too, Kento.”

A deep breath escaped him, not one of tension, but release. Relief. He pressed his forehead to yours again, smiling softly now.

“Thank you.” He murmured. “For being patient with me. For asking me to dance.”

And so you danced . Slowly, clumsily at first, then comfortably. Two hearts moving in sync under the soft glow of kitchen lights and the croon of a record that would now always sound like love.

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @noooo-onee @pickledsoda @suna-yoshihara

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[libraryofolive]

when you slap their ass and run away

featuring: Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen, Ino Takuma, Hiromi Higuruma, Shiu Kong and Shoko Ieri

genre: smau, crack, suggestive (18+ - MDNI)

warnings: language, suggestive

Like this? You can find my other smaus here and my drabbles and fics here!

Want to send me a request? They are currently open and you can find my rules here!

[naammiii-deactivated20260407]

SHOKO IEIRI FIC RECS // mdni!

we’re just friends! - @/classyrbf

slight edging - @/screampied

kawaii, hentai, boobies - @/cumironi

no rest for the wicked - @/reignpage

unfazed! - @/leahrintarou

rubbing pretty clits - @/screampied

work wife - @/luvgam3

boys suck and girls I’ve never tried - @/sonarspace

red wine supernova - @/mononijikayu

warming you up - @/oatmealwrites (multi)

frankenstein, the monster - @/madaqueue

leaked - @/ayyy-pee

on call - @/ayyy-pee

puff puff pass - @/chososcamgirl

slumber party - @/logoleptic-since-06

shower - @/lilacxquartz

baby sitter - @/fleurvi

headcanons - @/webism

so desperate for you - @/lilacxquartz

more headcanons :3 - @/lotties-ashwagandha

doctor ieiri, what’s the problem? - @/solaiced

drunk sex - @/husbandograveyard

I DONT OWN ANY OF THESE FICS!! // CREDS TO THE WRITERS!! <3

[kunareads]

brat | track one

360

producer!suguru x popstar!reader

prev / next series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 2k

content: smut, fluff, smau / exhibitionism (concealed in a public setting), fingering, drug/alcohol use, ambiguous relationship status / a little scene-setting before we get into it next chapter :)

taglist is closed! 18+ please <3

Variety — YEAR OF THE BRAT: SUGURU GETO AND YN HAVE THE INDUSTRY IN A HEADLOCK (AND THEY’RE LAUGHING ABOUT IT)

Vulture — INSIDE THE CULT OF YN AND GETO: WHY EVERYONE’S COPYING THE CHAOS

The Cut — THE ART OF BEING WATCHED: THE ROLLOUT THAT TOOK OVER YOUR TIMELINE

[ seven days, 14 hours to drop ]

you’re chewing gum when you walk in.

the meeting room is glass-walled, over-lit, aggressively air-conditioned. it smells like money and emails. a brand director is mid-slide, gesturing at a screen filled with words like reach and multi-platform ecosystem. someone else chimes in about vertical integration.

suguru trails two steps behind you with half a croissant in his hand, headphones slung around his neck. he doesn’t say a word—just drops into the chair beside yours and opens his laptop as if the room isn’t full of people.

you don’t take your sunglasses off. their fault for lighting the place like an interrogation chamber.

“the aim is cultural virality,” someone says. “we’re thinking cross-brand utility meets niche rebellion.”

you blink slowly. blow a bubble. pop it.

“is there a slide where you tell us what the fuck that means?”

suguru doesn’t look up, but he does smirk beside you—the silent, crooked kind he gives you when he thinks you’re being mean on purpose. (you are.)

a younger exec tries to pivot. “no, like—we just want to elevate your image without diluting the—”

“please don’t say authenticity.” you cross your legs. “i’ll have to light myself on fire.”

[ six days, 12 hours to drop ]

@/cultyn (instagram post) 📸 : your silhouette behind a sheer curtain with silver tinsel, suguru’s tattooed hand pulling the curtain aside. 💬 : countdown in bio. don’t be late ⏳

@/cultgeto (instagram post) 📸 : same as yours. 💬 : it begins 🔄 360 video friday

[ four days, 22 hours to drop ]

you feel it before you name it—that warm, sparkling edge of visibility. the music’s perfect. the lights are forgiving. everyone’s looking, seeing exactly what you want them to.

but the only eyes that matter are fixed on you from a corner—suguru, legs spread and an arm slung over the back of the couch like the section belongs to him. (it does.)

he waits.

you let it build. air-kiss people you barely remember. twirl a girl’s hair between your fingers, whispering something that makes her giggle. lean into camera flashes, catching light in your earrings, your clothes, your teeth.

and when you’re satisfied, you cross the floor, hips swinging like a threat, and slot yourself between his knees. he leans back and gives you that look—somewhere between dare and devotion.

“having fun?” he asks, amused.

you straddle his thigh without answering. your skirt rides higher, his eyes drop lower. instead of stopping you, he grabs his jacket from the seat and drapes it over your bare shoulders—possession dressed as modesty.

“so fucking spoiled,” he mutters, more observation than complaint. like he’s proud. like he made you this way on purpose.

you roll your hips once. then again, slower, dirtier. a palm settles on your ass to guide you, not stop you. his show now, not yours. every grind hits harder as you fall into the rhythm he sets.

he takes your drink, downs it in one swallow, sets the glass aside. you watch his throat work before that same hand trails condensation up your thigh and under your skirt.

you’re slick through your panties.

“you’re such a fucking handful,” he says with a smirk, planting kisses from your cheek to your jaw. his voice is hot in your ear, close enough to catch between beats. “you know that?”

you tilt your head, feigning innocence. “wanted you to touch me.”

his smirk deepens when you slide your knees wider on the seat for him. he shifts your panties aside and sinks two fingers in.

your mouth drops open as he sets a pace. you arch into him automatically, grinding harder, already after something without permission. his palm presses over your clit with every thrust. it’s sloppy—shallow breath, parted lips, heavy eyelids.

you try to keep the rhythm, to stay composed, but his fingers work in time with the music, eyes pinned to your face. he kisses you when he catches it—the split second where it stops being teasing and starts being need.

“breathe.”

your hips stutter, the warning landing between your lungs and your legs.

“you’re gonna cum too fast.”

you nod, or shake your head—you don’t know. you ignore him like you always do, desperate now, chasing it like you’re not surrounded by strangers. if anyone’s watching, suguru’s already made sure they can’t see anyway.

“you wanna be fucked on this couch in front of everyone?” he asks, voice dropping to something fond and a little mean. “or are you gonna behave?”

you don’t answer. can’t. your forehead drops to his shoulder, breath hitching as his cologne fills your senses. you’re right on the edge—

“i know, baby.” he murmurs it like a spell, dragging his thumb up your clit. “i know. make a mess if you need to.”

you cum on his hand like it was his idea. like you didn’t start the whole thing in the first place.

he keeps you there, fingers still inside, letting you come apart in pieces on top of him. your hips twitch and you whimper into his throat, melting against him. he lets you ride it out. lets your slick flood over his fingers and down his hand, then pulls out slowly. tucks your panties back into place too carefully for what just happened.

then he brings one finger to his mouth, licking it clean. he offers the other to you, and you take it like you always do—lips parted, tongue out, wrapping around him slow in the way you know drives him insane. you suck, humming low in your throat like a thank you.

you start to lift your head, suddenly aware of where you are and the fact that the song’s changed twice, but a hand finds the back of your neck, grounding you as he kisses your temple.

“not yet,” he murmurs. “you’re okay.”

so you exhale and let yourself sink into him fully. your cheek pressed to his chest, his arm snug around your waist, jacket still warm over your shoulders. the music keeps playing and the lights keep shifting, but for a few more seconds, you stay where you are.

[ four hours to drop ]

you’re twenty-five minutes late and only partially dressed when you go live.

you rarely do interviews separately. don’t take meetings separately either, unless you’re trying to scare someone. livestreams are the same—it’s him or nothing.

suguru stands behind you, black shirt half-buttoned with the sleeves rolled up. he’s halfway through lacing your corset, rings flashing as he works the ribbon like he’s tying a gift.

“i told you to start getting ready two hours ago,” he mutters, eyes on his hands.

“you did,” you agree with a nod, squinting at the phone propped against the hotel mirror. the chat scrolls too fast to follow, but you catch a few:

SUGURU HANDS WATCHERS STAND UP he’s doing it wrong but like… sexy?? she’s so calm i would be screaming and crying and biting

“chat says you’re doing it wrong.”

“chat can’t get you out of a corset with one hand,” he deadpans, not even looking up.

you seal the joint in your hands with a slow press of your tongue, dragging it across the paper like you know he’s watching. (he is. he always is.)

he finishes with a final tug, knotting the ribbon tight and smoothing the laces like he’s proud of himself. his fingers trail down your spine in a lazy line as he kisses your bare shoulder once, soft and thoughtless.

the lighter clicks. you inhale, exhale. watch him in the mirror as he disappears from the frame to rifle through the jewelry you’d dumped onto the counter earlier.

he returns with earrings, necklaces, and bangles in hand.

“stay still.”

his fingers are cool where they skim your neck. he hooks the earrings in slow, fastens your necklace, slips each bracelet on one by one and brings your hand to his lips when he’s done.

you pass him the joint.

“we were supposed to be there thirty minutes ago and it’s thirty minutes away,” he says, exhaling smoke.

“mm,” you reply, dabbing on lip gloss. “better hurry up and pick my shoes then.”

i’ve never wanted to be a joint so bad in my whole life HE PICKS HER JEWELRY?????? is this foreplay or a grwm

[ 30 minutes to drop ]

the diesel party is still going by the time you leave. your heels click loudly against the sidewalk. suguru’s hand rests low at your back, half-steering. he smells like weed and your favorite cologne.

someone with a press badge calls your name—matte lipstick, eyes wide like she can’t believe you’re real. she catches you just before the car with a mic, a cameraman, and a hopeful smile.

“just a second—can we get a quick word? you both look—” she hesitates, trying to find the right language. “—unreal.”

suguru stops halfway behind you, not moving his hand from your waist.

“so,” she starts, practically vibrating. “what made you two want to show up together for tonight’s diesel launch?”

“we love a party,” you reply, smiling.

she laughs like it’s charming. follows up with something about your sound, the visuals you’ve been putting out recently. you let suguru answer that one—you’re busy watching the lights bounce off the gloss you left on his cheekbone.

“okay, last one. you probably get this all the time, but—are you two… together?”

suguru grins. “we’re the same person.”

you don’t miss a beat. “worse.”

the interviewer laughs, flustered and delighted. “right. okay. thank you—”

but you’re already sliding into the backseat.

the car door shuts and the world cuts out. no bass, no flashing lights. just dark leather and air conditioning and exhaustion behind your eyes.

you exhale once, sharp, and start leaning forward to unbuckle your shoes.

suguru stops you. “let me.” like it’s obvious.

he pulls your feet into his lap one at a time, slipping the heels off like you’re breakable. his thumb circles your ankle, slow and grounding. your breathing evens out.

outside, cameras flash against the windows, but the tint’s too dark for them to get anything real.

it echoes in your head. are you two together?

“you didn’t say no,” you say softly, eyes closed.

he keeps rubbing. “you didn’t either.”

when you look at him, he’s smiling at you, eyes soft like he’s listening for something unspoken.

you settle deeper into the seat, one hand resting over his.

neither of you has said it.

but he always shows up. always looks at you like you’re the only person in the world speaking his language.

and you do the same.

you’re each other’s. just not in a way you can put in writing.

[ three minutes post-drop ]

the 360 video drops at midnight. it’s trending by 12:03.

the internet does what it always does.

@/bratchive: every brand strategist watching this with tears in their eyes

@/getogirl: brat / tamer dynamic so loud you can hear the leash drag

@/forynonly: legacy is UNDEBATEDDDDD icon behavior

you don’t check your phone, but you feel it—the shift, the buzz, the spin of it all. the world catching up to something you’ve already lived through.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hello!

Can I request a nervous Obanai finally revealing his face to reader who is his partner/lover and who knew him for years and never saw his full face respecting his wishes?

part i

Obanai flinched as he felt something touch his shoulder. Expecting a slap. An insult for his monstrous deformity.

Instead, when he turned his head, he found a small scarf hanging just over his shoulder.

“I won’t look.” Obanai turned his head further to look over his shoulder and indeed their eyes were closed. “But…I want you to know that it doesn’t matter to me. I love you Obanai. Nothing can change that. I know you’re not comfortable with your face because of what happened, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

His heart clenched. Obanai wanted to believe them but….humans could be so fickle.

The demon slayer took the scarf and wrapped it around his face. He called out when he was finished and turned around just as [Y/N] was opening their eyes. They seem clam, but a little disappointed. He knew that was probably due to him covering his face again, no matter how much he trusted them or they wanted to be there for him, and he felt guilty.

The two of them say little more and head back to their safe house. Little more was said between them once they were there too. [Y/N] didn’t comment on it, as Obanai was usually quiet, but this time he was quiet for pensive reasons. He wanted to be open with [Y/N]. Or as open as he could be with anyone. Obanai trusted them with his life, yet he couldn’t trust them with his scars? It was ridiculous.

That night, just before they laid down, Obanai touched [Y/N] on the shoulder to get their attention. “I want to show you something.” He said.

Slowly, carefully, and willing his hands not to shake, Obanai unwrapped the new bandages around his face. The coils of the wrap unfurling until they revealed his true face underneath. Then, he sat there. Waiting for them to make a sound.

For a moment, [Y/N] just stared at him. Seeming surprised that he would show them, then morphing into critical as they look on every inch of his face. Then, they looked sad.

[Y/N] leaned forward and wrapped their arms around Obanai’s waist in a hug. “Thank you, for showing me.” Relief washed over him. He didn’t think he would be accepted so easily. “I know this was difficult for you, but I appreciate you trusting me. I love you.”

Obanai’s arms came up to hug them back. A warm feeling spreading over his chest and body. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sooner.”

“Nonsense.” [Y/N] let him go and looked him in the eye again. “Do you wish to go to bed now, or would you like to put your bandages back on?”

“I…I think I want to put them back on.” He was happy they accepted them, and relieved that they accepted him, but he wasn’t ready to have the bandages off all the time. Maybe one day he would be, with [Y/N]’s help, but for now only [Y/N] know about them was enough.

[pallettown]

getting a new interest that it feels like nobody gaf about is so excruciating what do you mean people aren't going ham nuts over this thing. please start losing your minds

[tenderandmild]

Sonic after doing an April Fools prank on Knuckles

[skrunklystraycat]

SMAU!

They watch your horse while you're away!

Tw: Sukuna being Sukuna, suggestive in Suguru's

MINORS DNI!!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Choso

Note: I came up with this idea when I was out of state a few months back. Figured I should maybe actually write it. This is my first smau, I've never used Memi before. Please, please , please ignore the time stamps. They don't make any sense, and I totally gave up trying to figure them out. It's pretty short. Some of the app was being glitchy, so if anyone has a recommendation for an easier way to do this, please let me know!

[heavenlyscandal]

tattoo artist!choso kamo x reader

synopsis: a quiet artist-turned-tattooist, Choso Kamo carries a hidden love for his college art partner

choso kamo who’s your classmate, the boy who sat a few rows down in your college art class. Always quiet, intense, focused. You noticed him before he ever noticed you, drawn to the way his hands moved across paper, the way his sketches weren’t just good, they were alive.

choso kamo who became your class partner after a few projects paired you together. At first, it was quiet cooperation. Then, it became something more, shared playlists while you worked, late nights laughing over half-finished canvases, inside jokes scribbled into sketch margins. You didn’t realize how quickly he became your person, neither did he.

choso kamo who fell for you slowly but surely, between shared brushes and coffee breaks, in the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your dreams. He never told you, not directly. But he memorized the way you smiled when he handed you your favorite pen, how your voice softened when you told him his art was brilliant. He didn’t know, he couldn’t have guessed that you felt it too.

choso kamo who studies the language of flowers in his free time, browsing through hundreds of books in the library whenever he could, his fingers tracing delicate illustrations and handwritten notes. Researching every petal, every hidden meaning, he searched for the perfect blooms he’d one day give to someone special — to you. And finally, one late night, he found them, the three flowers that spoke every unspoken word in his heart.

choso kamo who graduated with you but life pulled you both in different directions. You, the girl who loved to travel, who wanted to see the world. Him, the boy with ink-stained fingers and a dream of opening his own tattoo studio. Neither of you confessed. You both didn't because you didn't want to ruin the friendship you both built. You wanted the best for each other, even if that meant walking away.

choso kamo who chased his dream for you, because it was your belief in him that lit the spark. Your words still echo in his mind: “your art deserves to be permanent.” so he made it so. He became a tattoo artist, built a name for himself and pushed through long nights and quiet grief, fueled by the thought of one day tattooing the girl who once looked at his sketches like they were magic.

choso kamo who, a year later, owns his own studio, walls lined with designs he once showed only to you. The clients coming in non-stop and his name whispered with admiration in the tattoo world. He knows he should be content, well he is, but there’s still a quiet pit in his chest, a space shaped exactly like you. The girl who made him believe his art was worth something. The girl who left, not because she didn’t want to stay, but because you both were too scared to speak what mattered most.

authors note: hellooo, this is my first post and i hope you like it. i have been working on these for the past week and making this at school. let me know if you want a part two ^_^ <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[coralbae]

everyone's afraid of something

you ask them what their greatest fear is

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna + guest stars yuji, megumi and ino!

warnings: party mix of angst, crack and fluff (can you tell i don’t know how to be serious) some retrospective foreshadowing if you squint 🫣

a/n: don’t kill me if i got ino wrong pls 😭😭 also guess which one of these is my fear </3