sam ꩜ !

6𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 ! 𝐒𝐅𝐖 ! 𝐒𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 !

[ikeastuffedmonkey]

୨ @𝐬𝐚𝐦 - 6teen ! she/her ! ୧

✰ masterlist ✰ rules ✰ taglist ✰ tags

sfw writing blog. fluff city. jjk, sakamoto days, for now. requests are open!

@ikeastuffedmonkey 2025 — i do not condone any copying of my work, pls don’t do this!!

[ikeastuffedmonkey]

i wanna start writing again but my summer college classes are KILLING me. i have an unfinished streamer! inumaki x streamer! reader fic sitting in my drafts and its starting to call to me like a siren. would anyone want me to finish it? (i most likely will regardless but yk :3)

[f-tality0]

Choso

[crazysodomite]

my shy gagobear

[rezijellyfish]

Kirara

[kkuma-roo]

Nerdhoererereeeee

[plumkissed]

making boyfriend!yuji chase you ᝰ.ᐟ fem!reader

imagine doing that tiktok trend with yuji where you set your phone up, run as fast as you can like your life depends on it, and see how long it takes for your boyfriend to catch you.

and when you explain it to him he just shrugs with a gentle little smile and says, “sure, babe. sounds fun.” because your sweet boy would do anything you ask him to.

so with your phone propped up, you quickly hit the record button, then break into a sprint while yuji waits with his hands in his pockets, watching you closely and counting to ten like you told him to.

and you keep count in your head, too. to make sure he’s not cheating of course.

but it’s something about seeing you run from him that entices him in a way he doesn’t expect. makes a delicious anticipation bubble inside him, makes his jaw clench. his lips take to a smirk once he realizes that’s what you wanted, and then he takes a breath.

“ten.”

he takes off immediately, a little dirt kicked up in his absence from how powerfully his foot launched him into motion.

and you’re a mess of giggles as you run, heart beating against your ribcage because you know it won’t be long. you don’t bother looking back, you know you can’t outrun him.

you haven’t even blinked twice when a pair of strong arms snake themselves around your middle and he’s got you caged in the air with a low grunt, your backside pressed against his chest, feet kicking and flailing as you squeal between laughter for him to let you go. his hold only tightens further, biceps flexing with a little more effort when you squirm. his hands are locked on his forearms that bind you to him, ensuring you won’t be going anywhere.

you can feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat, the heat of his body and it makes you pull your bottom lip under your teeth. there’s no need to wonder if this excited him as much as it did you, because you can feel it.

it’s exhilarating, to say the least. you’re completely out of breath, and just as you expected, he’d barely even made an effort.

the sharp of yuji’s canines gently nip at the shell of your ear to make your breath catch in that way he likes, his voice low and smoldering, yet sending a shiver down your spine when he whispers,

“got ya.”

.

.

.

©plumkissed 2026

[pillsatoru]

your boyfriend has been feeling insecure these past days regarding his braces. he had just started wearing bands and they hurt like shit. “toru?” you walked into his dorm, seeing him laid out on the bed in a starfish pose. “baby what’s wrong?”

satoru groaned, feeling a sharp pain erupt in his mouth. he pointed at his lips in indication that it was braces that were hurting him.

it’s been a while since he’s properly kissed you as well. not like it’d be enjoyable with the way his lips kept getting chapped every other minute. he was already a geek but his braces didn’t help his nerdy appearance.

“aw,” you coo’ed, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. “they’re hurting?”

the white haired boy nodded, desperately wanting to smash his mouth against yours. whenever he even tried pouting out for a peck, the pain would begin again.

“wanna kiss you..”

“yeah?” his eyes flickered down your plump lips. god, he missed them. “let me do all the work then.” you offered.

you leaned down to press a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips, causing him to whine. “more..” he begged.

“don’t be greedy.”

your tongue darted out to lick away at the dryness before kissing him right in the middle. “does it hurt?”

satoru shook his head, gripping your waist tightly as he chased after your once you pulled away. “thank you love.”

you hummed, caressing his lips with your thumb. “brought you some ice cream. hopefully that’ll numb down the pain.”

“good.. cuz i wanna kiss you.”

[hidingwhere]

♥︎ Cuddling with Inumaki after a long week

The hallway air seemed to be ten degrees lower compared to the dorm rooms, goosebumps rising on your exposed arms as you hesitantly stood outside of your boyfriends room.

Your knuckle lingered a few inches away from the wood before it finally connected, a quiet yet firm knock knock breaking the silence.

At least ten seconds passed with no response before your phone buzzed in your pyjama bottoms pocket.

Toge 💞: is that you…

You: yes

The door was open in less than three seconds, your boyfriend greeting you at the door in the matching pyjama bottoms you had bought him and no t-shirt.

“Kelp.”

“Sorry for coming so late.” It was only 9, but it felt way later with how exhausted you already were.

“Mustard leaf,” he comments, closing the door behind him and walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss on your shoulder. With the way your tense muscles dropped, he could tell you were tired from all the missions you’d been sent on this week.

“Salmon?” He asked, pointing to the bed.

You nodded, slipping partially under his covers before and sliding forward to let him climb in behind you. In front of you, the TV glows in the dim room, displaying the minecraft pause screen.

He lifted the controller to put it away on his bedside table but you quickly grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “Keep playing. I wanna watch you.”

Your head rested back against his chest as you watched his character move around the screen, the repetitive sound of the controller buttons clicking soothing you further into sleep.

Inumakis arms, which were wrapped around you, occasionally gave you a little tap, a silent way of asking if you were okay. He only received hums and grunts in return, until eventually he got no response. Leaning over to look at your face, he saw your eyes closed, breathing slow and gentle.

He set the controller down, pressed a kiss against the back of your head, and fell asleep right behind you.

[ikeastuffedmonkey]

commission art my bestfriend made of me and inumaki !! @youlovabby on tumblr and @youlovart on tiktok 💗

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é ₊✧

miya osamu x f!reader

your ex-fiancé comes into town with a favor to ask. meanwhile, osamu struggles to keep his own feelings in check.

part seven of the after school series, a friends-to-lovers AU featuring you, osamu, and the relationship you build solo-parenting two girls in the same kindergarten class.

You got the call at 9:47 in the morning.

"I — " You blinked at the phone on your desk. Felt your stomach lurch once you read the name. "It's Misa's father."

"You serious?" Kuroo leaned back in his desk chair to see for himself. Sure enough, your ex-fiancé's stupid Apple contact photo flashed across the screen — some fancy headshot he'd taken at his first firm after college. You hadn't gotten around to removing it.

"Talk about a jump scare," he muttered. "When's the last time he called?"

"I dunno. Eight, nine months ago?" You winced. "He called to say our Christmas gifts were on the way. In the middle of March."

"Father of the year, everybody," Kuroo drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes flicked to your face. The traces of dread there. "You gonna answer it?"

"Erm." You stared at your phone like it was a bomb. "I'm kind of hoping it goes to voicemail before I can."

The ringing stopped. Your shoulders sank in relief. Then — just when you thought you were in the clear — he called again.

"For Christ's sake," you muttered, snatching your phone and ID badge before storming off toward the nearest exit. "I'll be back in ten!"

"Grab me an iced coffee before you get back?" Kuroo called toward your retreating figure.

You shot him the middle finger before slamming your body into the push bar of the door and exiting out into the hallway.

"Jun," you said into the phone, voice polite. Borderline annoyed. "What is it? What do you need?"

"My — is that how we're greeting each other now? No hello? How are you?"

"Hello," you conceded, albeit through gritted teeth. "How are you?"

"See? Was that so hard?" You could practically hear the lazy grin in his voice. "I'm well, Y/N. Just wanted to check in on my two favorite girls."

That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. "We're fine. Misa started kindergarten a few months back."

"That's great! Public school, I'm assuming? How's she adjusting?"

"Actually, I put her in private,” you said, folding your free arm across your chest and squeezing hard. “The Kimori School for Girls? It's a K-through-8."

"No, yeah. I've heard of it. That's a good school," Jun hummed, almost impressed. "How'd you swing that?"

You clenched your jaw. “I manage just fine."

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call. Public school would’ve eaten that girl alive.”

Perhaps pacing the length of the hallway would ease the blood now boiling in your ears. “What do you need, Jun? I’m at work.”

"Would you relax? I just wanted to let you know that I'll be in town this week on my way back from Singapore. Figured I could stop by, see my daughter." He made it sound like it was his birthright. Like it was a book he could pick up and read whenever he wanted. "Maybe we can get dinner one night, too. Just the two of us."

You would've rather stabbed yourself in the eye with a fork. But before you could voice this, Jun added, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

At that, your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What about?"

"I think it's best I tell you in person," was all he said. "I'll send you a reservation on Google Calendar. Your email still the same?"

Now, it took every ounce of your self-restraint not to snap at this man. To end the call, block his number, and extract him surgically from your memory.

But you'd long since accepted the fact that the most important person in your life also belonged to someone else. And if there was any chance of him partaking in even a sliver of Misa's life — you would take it. Even if you had to hold out.

Even if holding out hurt.

"I have to check my schedule and find someone to look after Misa," you managed, massaging the inner corners of your eyes. "But yes. My email's the same."

Ten minutes later, you slammed two cans of iced coffee on the desk in front of Kuroo so hard that he flinched.

"Call went well, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

A muscle feathered in your jaw. "Is that discount for your jiu-jitsu gym still on the table?"

Misa's gonna hate me, you thought as you signed her up for the Tiger Tots membership and input your credit card information. You'd figure out how to pitch it to her later — and explain to her why her father was suddenly coming into town.

A question you couldn’t even answer yourself, you realized the moment Jun’s calendar invite hit your inbox.

Later that week, Osamu waited for his daughter outside the school gate, squinting at his TikTok feed like a senior citizen.

He'd updated the app so he could watch the hundreds of videos you sent him a week, and while he'd only been scrolling for fifteen minutes, he was floored by how quickly his algorithm had inferred his interests. Reviews of mom-and-pop boba shops in the area. Parenting hacks for excitable children. A sponsored post for a new handroll bar downtown — he saved that one for later. Wondered briefly if you'd ever be down to go with him.

He caught himself doing that these days. Catching wind of new restaurants. Wanting to take you. Maybe he'd make a reservation on OpenTable, have Atsumu look after the girls. Maybe he'd pull out that baby blue button-up you liked so much, spritz on the cologne that'd been sitting on his bathroom counter since Christmas...

The idea sat half-baked in his brain as the bell rang sharply overhead.

"Daddy!" Kina yelled, the sound of her light-up sneakers reverberating off the pavement. "Can we get Totino's Pizza Rolls?"

"Can we get what now?" Osamu asked as the five-year-old approached, Misa not too far behind.

"Pizza rolls!" Kina repeated, flinging her arms around her father's legs and grinning up at him like he hung the moon. "Y/N-san gets them all the time from the frozen foods aisle."

Like a forensic scientist presenting evidence from a crime scene, Misa dug inside her ladybug backpack and held out to him a plastic baggy. Sure enough, a singular pizza roll lay inside, it's blistered crust and burnt edges enough to make Osamu's nose crinkle.

"Looks like a nicotine pouch," he drawled, taking the baggy and frowning at its contents. Out of all the home-cooked meals he made for these girls, this is what they preferred?

"We saved the last one for you," Misa supplied.

"Ya did? Oh, ya shouldn't have." Osamu gave the girls a bemused smile. "I guess I could ask Y/N-san where she gets these. Looks like somethin' she'd whip up in the air fryer..."

He briefly wondered how he could make them himself before sliding the baggy into his back pocket. "Where is she, by the way? I haven't seen much of her this week."

At that, Misa shrugged. "Mommy's been working really hard. But she's not picking me up today."

"Oh?" Osamu asked, blinking back. "How ya plan on gettin' home, then?"

"I..." The sound of another parent approaching the school gate pulled her attention like a loose thread. Osamu watched, then, as your daughter's face broke out into a bright smile.

"Daddy!"

Now, Osamu didn't know much about the father of your child. He knew you'd met the guy in business school. Knew the way your voice grew wan any time he came up. Like he was a joke you were constantly trying to find the humor in.

Yet nothing quite prepared Osamu for the man that stood before him now. From his neatly cropped hair to his expensive watch to the Patagonia vest he kept zipped up to the quarter, he looked nothing like the kind of man you'd get along with today.

How the hell would you know? Osamu chided himself as the man picked up Misa by the armpits and swung her onto his hip.

"Hey, squirt! How's my favorite girl?"

"Good!" Misa giggled, latching her arms around his neck and squeezing tight. "Better now that you're here."

"Aw, shucks. You flatter me, kiddo," he said, setting her back down. Osamu's breath stilled as the man sized him up from across the courtyard. Kina shrank behind her father's legs as he approached.

"Yamada Jun," the businessman said by way of introduction, extending his hand out. "You must be Miya Osamu."

"Yes, sir." The scent of cologne, sharp and amber, filled Osamu's nose as he went in for the shake. "It's a pleasure to meet ya."

Jun's eyebrows ticked up in amusement. "That a Kansai accent I hear?”

"Sure is. Familiar with the area?"

"Oh, hardly," he scoffed. "My parents do business out there, tried convincing me to run the branch of their electronics company just outside Kyoto. Pace of life just didn't suit me, though."

A bemused hum escaped Osamu's lips. "It ain't for folks who can't stay still, that's for sure."

Jun sniffed, as if he couldn't quite gauge what Osamu meant by that.

"Y/N said I might run into you here," he went with instead.

"Did she now?"

"Oh, yeah. Said our girls are thick as thieves." Jun leaned in to smile at Kina like she was a pet. "This one yours?"

Osamu winced as Kina's nails dug into his straight-leg chinos. Afraid she might bare teeth, he placed a steady hand on the back of her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Her name's Kinami," he ground out. Then, because his leg was really starting to hurt, "She's normally a lot chattier than this."

"Hey, I get it," Jun chuckled, lifting his hands. "It isn't often I get to fly into town to see my daughter, so I'm just grateful to you both for looking after her while I'm gone."

While Osamu didn't know the exact details of your parenting arrangement, something about Jun's choice of words — get to, grateful, while I'm gone — irked him more than it should've. But before he could let it show, he clamped a firm hand on that part of his brain and told it to pipe the fuck down.

"No need to thank me," he said instead, meaning every word. "Misa and Y/N are good friends. They...they make it easy to be there."

Jun's easy expression flickered for a split-second at that. Eyes narrowed. Nostrils flared. He cleared his throat before Osamu could even register it and checked the watch on his wrist.

"Right. Well, I think it's about time Misa and I got going." He nodded back toward the parking lot, extended his hand out toward your daughter. She blinked up at him before taking it, as if to confirm he was actually there. "It was nice meeting you, Osamu."

"...so that's Misa's daddy," Kina mused, watching as they walked hand-in-hand toward the electric car parked in a spot marked off for teachers and staff.

Osamu blew out a sharp breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess so."

Kina pushed her bottom lip out and said, "I don't like him."

"Yeah?" he huffed, trying to be the mature one here. "We don't know him, though."

"Yeah. That's why," Kina murmured. Osamu merely chuckled at that, wondering how on earth you were holding up. Why Jun was here in the first place. What he was going to do about the tension now wedged somewhere behind his ribs.

As if she could sense it, too, Kina reached into the back pocket of his chinos, slid the pizza roll out, and held it out to him.

Osamu ate it without another word.

The restaurant Jun picked was nice. So nice that when you'd arrived in your oversized button-up and kitten heels, you felt marginally underdressed.

"You couldn't have bothered to change?" Jun tsked, looking around. He unbuttoned his sports coat as the waiter placed a pair of leather-bound menus atop the table setting.

You thumbed through each page with an unbothered expression, debating whether or not to whip out your phone flashlight so you could see better. "Didn't realize this was a date."

"I had dinner here with a partner from the firm several years back," he explained, examining the wine menu through a pair of reading glasses. "Their Cabernet Sauvignon is a must-have. Would highly recommend."

Somehow, that only made you want it less. "I think I'll just stick with water."

"Oh, come on, Y/N." The dim candlelight bent around the tilt of his smile. "Let's cheers to our daughter starting kindergarten."

"Do you think she looked okay?" you interjected instead, ignoring the way his words pin-pricked your gut. "You know, when we dropped her off at Tiger Tots this afternoon?"

"I dunno." Jun lifted his shoulder. "She looked fine to me."

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a text from Kuroo. It was a selfie of him and Misa at the jiu-jitsu gym. Her uniform was a size too big, and your co-worker's forehead took up nearly sixty percent of the shot, but...she looked good. She looked okay. He'd even gotten her to throw a peace sign at the camera.

All geared up and ready to go!

You hearted both messages immediately. Felt your pulse slow as you saved the photo to your camera roll, zoomed in on your daughter's brave, dimple-clad face.

"I met your friend today at pick-up," Jun hummed once the waiters took your menus away. He leaned back in his seat, swirled his glass of Cabernet Sauvignon with a steady hand. "Osamu, was it?"

The mere mention of Osamu's name on Jun's lips made your stomach twist. Between the stress of Jun's arrival and your late afternoons in the office, you hadn't had the chance to catch him up. It wasn't exactly something you could disclose to him over text, either.

Hey! My ex-fiancé and the father of my child just parachuted into town unexpectedly, so don't be alarmed! I'm trying not to be!

Jun's smile turned saccharine across the table. "He works at a restaurant, right?"

"He's the owner," you corrected him, fists clenching beneath the table. "And an incredible one at that."

"Where'd he go to school?"

You told him. He pushed out his bottom lip and asked, "Did he finish?"

"No." Your jaw tightened. "He dropped out to take care of Kina."

"Hm." Jun stared at his wine glass down the slope of his nose. "Wonder how he scrapes together the tuition every month. Do you think his kid's on a scholarship?"

"Does that matter?" you snapped, voice cracking the air like a whip. "What matters is that he does it. What matters is that he's there. What matters is that he’s shown up to every PTA meeting and music concert and school project show-and-tell, and I become a better mother and person every second that I'm in his company."

“Alright. Calm down,” Jun chuckled. Your blood roared in your ears as he lifted his hands to pacify you. “Just doesn’t seem like the type of guy you’d get along with, is all.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And how would you know the type of guy I’d get along with?”

“Well. That’s easy.” Jun scoffed. “I was one of ‘em. Wasn’t I?”

Now, you'd built a tolerance for Jun's shit over the years. His half-baked promises, his backhanded compliments. His inane ability to take credit for the person that you raised. And you'd swallowed your pride for the most part. Promised yourself that so long as he made Misa smile — which he did, he really did — you would play nice.

But there was something inherently different about the way you felt when he talked about Osamu. Something sharper, more volatile. It pained you to think that they talked earlier that afternoon. This absent, performative excuse of a man and the best father you'd ever really known. They should've never even met. Never even breathed the same air.

"Why are you here, Jun?" you asked, keeping your voice low. Steady. "I imagine you have much better things to do than to sit there, insulting people you barely know."

"Well, apologies for asking about the new people in your life," Jun drawled, downing the rest of his wine. "Especially since I'm making such an effort to introduce the new people in mine."

"What?" You blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Jun reached into his sports coat and retrieved from it a slim white envelope. You took it into your hands, slid a manicured nail beneath the seal, and popped it open.

It was a save-the-date.

"I'm engaged," Jun said, his words clamoring in your ears as your eyes pored over the textured cardstock, the black-and-white engagement photo of your ex-fiancé and his wife-to-be. "I'm engaged, I'm ready to start a life with her, and we...we want Misa to be the flower girl at our wedding ceremony."

Now, there were only two other times in your life when you felt this way. The first was when you learned you were pregnant. The second was when you learned you'd be doing it alone. You'd spent every consecutive second withstanding the fact that you and Misa would never be enough to capture Jun's full attention. Which was fine. You didn't love him. Didn't want him the same way you did at twenty-one.

But as you stared at this photo — at this beautiful woman with her straight teeth and long hair and easy, infatuated expression — you immediately felt your stomach drop. Your hands grow cold. That familiar, red-hot flush of shame flood the space behind your ribs.

Except this time, it was far worse than when you were twenty-one.

And you had absolutely no idea why.

a/n: and the plot thickens! 😝 osamu and y/n will most definitely talk about this in the next chapter, but not without some lovely tension first... 🙈

as always, THANK YOU to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments. i am so lucky to have a community who cares about these characters just as much as i do, and i cannot wait to share what i have in store for them. 💖 (also, tell me why i name all my villain characters jun i can't help it 😭) @miyasmagnolias, 2026

[himboyevsky]

megan thee stallion cosplaying miku Happy pride month

[pika-toru-deactivated20260505]

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! gojo loves using the “i’m married” card whenever he gets approached, because in his mind you guys are married.

the thing about being satoru gojo is that people look at him.

he’s used to it by now— the double takes, the whispered gossip, the way strangers feel entitled to his attention just because he happens to be tall and white-haired and annoyingly beautiful(so he’s been told). it’s exhausting, honestly, but he’s learned to deal with it over the years.

the second her manicured fingers land on satoru’s forearm, he knows exactly what’s coming.

he’s seen this script a hundred times. the coy smile, the slight tilt of the head, the way her lashes flutter like she’s got something in her eye. he’s been fielding these approaches for years, long before you came along, and he’s got it down to a fine art now.

“sorry,” he says, before she can even get a word out. “i’m married.”

the lie rolls off his tongue as easily as breathing. it’s not even really a lie, not in his head. you’re his girlfriend, yes, but you’re also the one. the endgame. the person he’s going to annoy for the rest of his natural life and probably well beyond that if he figures out how. in his mind, you’ve already got the ring, the shared last name, the matching toothbrushes in the bathroom. the paperwork is just a formality.

the woman’s face falls slightly, but she’s persistent. he’ll give her that. “oh, i don’t see a ring—”

“left it at home,” he says smoothly, already starting to edge away. “wife’d kill me if i lost it.”

he does have a ring. it’s just that it’s still sitting in the expensive jewellery shop that you always stare at when you guys pass by. he’s been meaning to go in and custom-make one that’s been appearing in his mind lately, one that would be unique and fitting only for you, but there’s no rush and the right moment just hasn’t shown up yet, because every time he looks at you, his brain short-circuits and he forgets how words work.

but that’s a problem for future satoru.

right now, present satoru is trying to escape this conversation without being rude, because you’re waiting for him in the car, most likely dozing off against the window with that cute pout on your lips.

he’s reaching for the strawberry milk with the cute cow on it, when he hears the click of heels behind him.

“excuse me?”

satoru doesn’t even turn around. his hand closes around the bottle anyway. “married,” he says, tossing it into his basket.

“oh! i—i wasn’t—”

“very married. disgustingly married. my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world and i think about her constantly.” he finally glances over his shoulder, offering a bland smile. “sorry.”

the woman blinks at him, then laughs nervously and retreats toward the chips aisle.

satoru turns back to the fridge, satisfied. it’s not even a lie anymore, not really. you’ve been his girlfriend for two years, and somewhere along the way— maybe when he watched you fall asleep on his couch with your glasses askew, or when you sent him a photo of a cat you saw on the street with the caption him, or when you laughed so hard at your own joke that you choked on water— he stopped thinking of you as just a girlfriend.

you’re his wife. you just don’t know it yet. there’s paperwork to do, and a ring to buy, and a question to ask, but in his head? you signed the papers months ago.

he grabs another bottle of milk because you like the chocolate one too, and heads to the checkout, basket swinging from his wrist. the cashier gives him an interested look but he only looks at you through the transparent doors that open and close, smiling when he sees you rubbing your eyes through the window and looking around sleepily.

.

.

.

the first thing satoru notices is that the afternoon sun is hitting just right against your hair, making it look like something out of a painting. the second thing he notices is the woman approaching.

he clocks her immediately— the way her eyes flick to him, the subtle once-over, the way she angles her body toward his. he’s seen this movie a hundred times. hell, he’s starred in it a hundred times.

“excuse me,” she says, all polite smile and batted lashes. “i’m so sorry to bother you, but i just had to say—you have the most stunning eyes i’ve ever seen.”

satoru feels you stiffen slightly beside him. your hand, which had been loosely linked with his, tightens just a fraction. he wants to squeeze back, to reassure you, but he’s also kind of… curious. because usually, when this happens, he’s alone. he gets to play his little game where he flashes an imaginary wedding ring and says sorry, i’m married with a soft, stupidly fond smile that he practices exclusively for the version of you that lives in his head.

but you’re right there and he’s never had to play that card with you within earshot before.

“oh,” he says, tilting his head. his glasses slip down his nose just enough for him to peer over them. “thanks.”

the woman takes the lack of immediate rejection as encouragement. “i don’t usually do this, but i was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab a coffee sometime? there’s a great place just around the corner—”

“no can do,” satoru interrupts, his voice softening at the edges. he feels your hand twitch again. “i’m married.”

the word hangs in the air. married. he’s said it a thousand times to strangers, to cashiers, to that one persistent guy at the bookstore who wouldn’t take a hint. but never like this, never with you standing right there by his side.

you go very still.

the woman blinks, glances at your interlocked hands, then back at his face. “oh. i’m sorry, i didn’t see a ring—”

“don’t need one,” he says simply, he’s not even looking at her anymore. he’s looking at you, at the way your lips have parted slightly, at the confusion and tenderness flickering across your face. “some things you just know.”

there’s a beat of silence. the woman mutters an apology and retreats. satoru doesn’t watch her go. he’s too busy watching you stare up at him like he’s grown a second head.

“married?” you repeat, your voice going breathy like it does when you’re trying not to laugh but also trying not to cry.

“well, yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he brings your joined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. “i mean, not legally. yet. but in my head? you’ve had the ring for like eight months now. it’s very sparkly. you look great in it.”

you blink at him once, twice, and then you make a sound that’s half-giggle, half-gasp, shoving at his chest with your free hand. “satoru! you can’t just tell strangers we’re married!”

“why not?” he grins, bright and boyish and entirely unrepentant. “it’s gonna happen eventually. i’m just saving time.”

“you’re insane.”

“insanely in love, maybe.”

you groan, burying your face in his shoulder, and he feels you smile against his shirt. your ears are pink. he wants to bite them.

“you’ve been doing this the whole time?” you mumble into his collarbone. “every time someone flirts with you?”

“every. single. time.” he wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “you’re my wife in every way that matters. the government just doesn’t know it yet.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, and there’s something in your eyes that makes his chest ache— all shimmery and wondering, like you’re seeing him for the first time. you smile, small and private, and tug his sleeve. “c’mon, husband. my show starts in ten.”

he word husband hits him right in the stupid chest like a truck made of flowers.

he follows you out, already planning the ring. already knowing exactly what it’ll look like. already halfway down on one knee in his head.

you don’t know any of that, not yet. but you said it and now he’s never letting you go.

🏷️ taglist: @ethezreal @astutetwilight @unforgivemn @sunnydayqq @lalawlrd @koral-pink @secretsofchance @raendarkfaerie @kingraspberry12-blog @xznyana @leftrightgn @indom-itus @ihatemynewbangs @eilishsgf @satorukitsunee @chewiebee

[ndsoda]

The Tiger of West Junior High

[ikeastuffedmonkey]

i wanna start being more active on tumblr, but it’s like when you see a bunch of cool people and you don’t wanna mess it up, like hi </3

[hidingwhere]

✦ asking all the right questions ft. Inumaki Toge

You and Inumaki have been dating for only a month, still fresh in the honeymoon phase. He was easy-going, attentive, and had a great sense of humour when he had the ability to express it (through text).

Tonight, however, you found yourself with sweaty palms as you knocked on his dorm room door, bag slung over your shoulder with (hopefully) all of the essentials you’d need for your first sleepover with him.

It seems you were nervous for no reason however, the night still buzzing with conversation and laughter even as midnight passed.

The second movie of the night was playing as you cuddled on his bed, fingertips tracing over his abdomen absentmindedly. You lift your head suddenly, craning your neck to look at man leaning against the pillows.

“Inumaki?”

His gaze moves from the television to you. “Salmon?”

“Can I… ask you a question?”

He nods.

“With your cursed speech, can you make noises that aren’t words?”

Silence.

“…like moans? groans? or do you need to stay completely silent if you, let’s say, lost an arm?”

He laughs lightly. “Bonito flakes.” He reaches over to his phone and pulls open his notes app. You lean forward on his chest, pressing your face up against his cheek to look down at his phone as well.

i can make sounds that aren’t words with no repercussions

“Ah, I see.”

You both settle down again and focus on the movie. However, a few minutes later you lift your head again. “If you spoke to someone in a different language, but they didn’t know that language, would it have no effect?”

More typing.

I’ve never tried

“Hm.” You pondered. “So, if the person doesn’t hear the words, they won’t get affected. What if you told someone to do something in their sleep? Technically, they can’t hear you but at the same time their ears are… open, so they can still hear sound.”

I also have never tried that

“Well, if you ever did, I wonder if there would be any repercussions. Since they won’t be using their cursed energy to protect themselves, maybe you wouldn’t get hurt from it despite how powerful they are. Apart from Gojo, who has his infinity on like… all the time.”

If I ever do try it, I’ll let you know :)

You smile appreciatively. “You don’t mind me asking questions about your cursed speech, do you?”

“Bonito flakes.” Followed with a shake of the head.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss against his cheek, watching the way his cheeks turn pink and his eyes quickly dart over to the television again. “One more question…”

He returns his attention to you. “Salmon.”

“Your cursed speech doesn’t work on inanimate objects, right?”

A head shake.

“So we can’t go to the arcade and then you force the machine to give me that big hello kitty plushie I saw the other day?”

He laughs and shakes his head again, picking his phone up again and typing once more.

i will get it for you without cursed technique <3

Your head tips to the side, a big grin stretching across it. “Aww, thank you. You’re the best!”

Another kiss on his cheek has his brain short-circuiting.

[lilikoiyu]

frat!kuna taking care of you at your first frat party . . . (shy!reader)

the bass is so loud it vibrates in your teeth.

you’re standing just inside the front door of the massive frat house, clutching the hem of your sweater like it’s a lifeline. the place is packed—bodies grinding, red cups everywhere, someone yelling “CHUG CHUG CHUG” in the distance. the air smells like cheap beer, weed, and way too much cologne.

you feel completely out of place.

ryomen sukuna—your boyfriend of three weeks, the walking red flag with pink hair and tattoos crawling up his neck—is right beside you, one big hand resting possessively on your lower back.

he looks right at home. black button-up half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, that lazy dangerous smirk already on his face. people keep nodding at him as they pass, some even doing double-takes when they see you tucked against his side.

“you good, baby?” he asks, voice low enough that only you can hear it over the music.

you nod quickly, even though your heart is racing. “yeah. just… loud.”

he snorts, thumb rubbing a small circle on your back. “told you it was gonna be loud. you still wanted to come.”

“i wanted to see what your world looks like,” you mumble, cheeks heating up. you’re the shy bookish girl who spends friday nights in the library, and he’s the infamous frat president who throws parties that end up on the campus group chat for all the wrong reasons.

sukuna leans down, lips brushing your ear. “my world’s a lot less interesting when you’re not in it.”

you blush harder. he’s been doing that lately—saying sweet things in that rough voice like it’s nothing. it always catches you off guard.

he guides you deeper into the house, keeping you close so no one bumps into you too hard. when a drunk guy stumbles past and almost spills his drink on you, sukuna’s arm shoots out, steadying the cup with one hand while pulling you tighter against his side with the other.

“watch it,” he growls at the guy, voice low and dangerous.

the guy mumbles an apology and scurries away.

sukuna looks down at you, smirk softening just a fraction. “you want something to drink? non-alcoholic. i know you don’t do the hard shit.”

you nod, surprised he remembered. “just soda is fine.”

he disappears for maybe two minutes and comes back with a can of coke and a bottle of water. he hands you the coke, then cracks the water open for himself.

“stay close,” he says, leaning in again. “if anyone bothers you, tell me. i’ll handle it.”

you sip your drink, feeling a little warmer. he’s not acting like the wild party animal everyone warned you about. he’s… attentive. almost gentle.

an hour later you’re tipsy.

you only had two drinks (sukuna made sure they were weak and watched the guy pour them), but you’re a lightweight and the music is making your head spin in the best way. you’re giggling at everything, clinging to sukuna’s arm as he leads you to a quieter corner of the backyard.

“you’re cute when you’re drunk,” he mutters, guiding you to sit on a low stone wall.

“i’m not drunk,” you protest, even though you’re swaying a little. “i’m… pleasantly buzzed.”

he snorts and crouches in front of you, hands on your knees to steady you. “yeah? then why are you trying to take your shoes off?”

you look down. sure enough, you’re fumbling with the straps of your heels.

“they’re uncomfortable,” you whine.

sukuna sighs, but there’s a little fondness to it. he gently bats your hands away and undoes the straps himself, slipping your shoes off and setting them beside you.

“better?” he asks.

you nod happily and lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re being really nice tonight. i thought you’d be… you know. wild.”

he raises an eyebrow. “wild how?”

“throwing people in the pool. shotgunning beers. starting fights. the usual frat king stuff.”

sukuna chuckles, low and rough, and stands up, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his chest.

“i can do all that shit any night,” he says, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “tonight i’ve got you. and you’re too soft for that chaos. so i’m keeping you safe instead.”

your heart does a stupid little flip.

“you’re sweet when you want to be,” you mumble into his shirt.

“don’t tell anyone,” he warns, but he’s smiling against your hair. “ruins my reputation.”

someone yells his name from across the yard—one of his frat brothers waving a beer pong paddle.

sukuna doesn’t even glance over. “busy,” he calls back, loud enough to be heard over the music.

the guy laughs and gives a thumbs-up, clearly used to it.

you tilt your head up at him. “you can go play if you want. i’ll be okay.”

“nah.” he leans down and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. “i’m good right here.”

later, when you start feeling a little too warm and dizzy, sukuna notices immediately.

“alright, lightweight,” he says, scooping you up bridal-style without asking. “time to go home.”

“but the party—” you protest weakly.

“the party will survive without us.” he carries you through the crowd like you weigh nothing, people parting for him automatically. someone tries to hand him a drink; he ignores it.

outside, the night air is cooler. he sets you down gently by his car, keeping one arm around your waist while he opens the passenger door.

“in you go, princess.”

you climb in, giggling when he has to help you with the seatbelt because your fingers are clumsy.

on the drive home he keeps one hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles.

“you had fun?” he asks quietly.

you nod, head resting against the seat. “yeah. you were… really sweet. i didn’t expect that.”

he glances over at you, that lazy smirk back on his face.

“don’t get used to it,” he says, but his voice is soft.

you smile sleepily. “too late. i already like this version of you.”

he doesn’t answer, but his hand squeezes your thigh gently.

when you get back to your dorm, he walks you all the way to your door, making sure you get inside safely.

before he leaves he leans down and kisses you—slow, warm, tasting like the one beer he allowed himself.

“text me when you wake up tomorrow,” he murmurs against your lips. “and drink water before you sleep.”

you nod, floating a little.

he waits until you lock the door behind you before he walks away.

except… he doesn’t actually leave.

ten minutes later there’s a soft knock on your door.

you open it, still a little dizzy, and find sukuna standing there with a bottle of water, a pack of plain crackers, and your favorite hoodie that he must have grabbed from his car.

“you’re still here?” you ask, surprised.

he shrugs, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “figured you might need help getting ready for bed. you’re swaying like a damn pendulum.”

you let him guide you to sit on the edge of your bed. he kneels down, helps you take off your shoes, then hands you the water and crackers.

“small sips,” he says. “and eat a couple of these so you don’t feel like shit tomorrow.”

you obey, watching him with soft eyes as he moves around your small room—plugging in your phone, turning off the big light, leaving the lamp on low.

when you finish the crackers he takes the wrapper and tosses it in the trash, then helps you change into comfy pajamas (his hoodie, of course).

“come here,” he says, pulling back the covers.

you crawl in. he kicks off his shoes and slides in beside you without being asked, pulling you against his chest.

“you don’t have to stay,” you mumble sleepily, even though you’re already curling into him.

“i know,” he replies, one hand stroking your hair. “but i’m staying anyway. someone has to make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue or something.”

you laugh softly. “romantic.”

“shut up and sleep, princess.”

you do, warm and safe in his arms, the distant thump of the party long forgotten.

❤︎⁠ in my fluff era rn