you're over at sukuna's place with the intention to study. you two do actually study.... for 10 minutes. his dad being home and just downstairs does nothing to stop the both of you.
mdni 18+. nsfw both sukuna & mc are 18/in their final year of high school. high school au. fwb. piv. raw. cream pie. risk of getting caught. light choking. mc & sukuna live in the same neighbourhood, just a few doors down.
your cheek is already pressed into the warm cotton of sukuna's pillow by the time your thoughts catch up with what your body is doing.
you're tryingâreally, genuinely tryingâto stay quiet, to breathe softly. to not make the kind of sounds that bounce off his bedroom walls. but every time his hips meets yours, every time his cock pushes in deep enough that your thighs tremble, your breath stutters into something that's way too loud for a house that isn't empty today.
his dad is downstairs. you know that, sukuna knows that. and yet...
his hand slides down your spine, heavy and warm, until it's gripping your waist like he's telling your body to remember exactly who it belongs to right now. your arms are stretched above your above, fingers clenching the sheets so tightly your knuckles hurt. your knees sink into his mattress, your back arching without you thinking about it, your hair spilling over your shoulder as you try to breathe through the steady, slow, ruthless rhythm he sets behind you.
a low sound slips out of your mouthâalmost a whine.
sukuna's palm smacks lightly against the side of your hip. not hard, not enough to hurt. just enough to warn. "shh, stay quiet".
you bite your lip, but it doesn't help. if anything, the pressure makes the next sound sharper.
it's been like this for a monthâsomething that wasn't planned, something that started one stupid, late-night when you'd teased him too much and he's snapped in a way you didn't think he was capable of. a month of being friend who...also do this. a month of sneaking into each other's houses at night or during empty afternoons, a month of him fucking you like he's always known your body, a month of you pretending not to notice the way he always looks at your face right before he slides in.
you try burying your mouth into the pillow. it doesn't help. not when he grips your hips, pulls you back onto him, and sinks deeper. your breath catches. loudly.
sukuna leans over you, chest brushing your back, his height dwarfing your smaller frame as his fingers slide under you waist and pull you upward just a littleâjust enough to change the angle. his lips graze your ear, just a breath, nothing more.
"i said quiet.'"
you whisper out a weak "tryingâah!", but the word barely leaves your mouth before his hips snap forward and the sentence ends in a gasp. you can practically feel him smirk behind you. your hair shifts across your cheek as he moves, your body rocking forward with every deep, slow thrust. his room smells like himâclean, warn, faint cologne that clings to his sheets and pillows. you inhale it with every shaky breath. your skirt is bunched around your waist, your blouse still on and half-open from where he pushes his hand under it earlier, impatient.
his fingers slide down between your thighs, brushing lightly where you're already throbbing, making your breath crack. you jerk, voice pitching too highâ
and he covers your mouth with his hand.
not hard, just firm, just enough to make your eyes roll back because you already know what that means.
sukuna's chest presses to your back, his breath slow and steady while yours turns into broken little noises against his palm. every thrust is deeper than the last, unhurried but unforgiving, and the sound of him moving inside you fills the room no matter how hard you try to bury every sound you make. it's a miracle his father hasn't called for his name or even come upstairs.
he mutters quietly into your shoulder, voice low enough to vibrate through your skin. "dad's home, angel".
you nodâor try to. your cheek rubs helplessly against his pillow instead.
"so you better not let him hear you".
you should feel embarrassed. nervous. you should care that his father is only a floor below, probably still watching the tv. but your thighs are shaking, your knees slipping slightly on the sheets, breath fogging against his hand, and all you can think about is the heat curling low in your stomach.
he slows downâonly for a secondâand your body reacts so violently to the sudden lack of motion that you arch back into him, chasing the friction.
sukuna laughs under his breath. "you always do that".
your face burns. you try to twist your head, try to shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but he slides his hand from your mouth to your throat, tilting your chin up, guiding your back into a deeper arch. his fingers apply the slightest bit of pressureânot enough to choke, just enough to force your mouth open on a breathy gasp he definitely wants to hear.
"that's better," he murmurs, and then he's moving again.
your nails claw at the sheets. the rhythm he sets is steady and deliberate like he's not just trying to make you come apart but trying to make you forget there's a world outside his bedroom. his figners on your throat tighten for a moment when you moan too loudly.
you slap your hand over your mouth on instinct.
he chuckles. "good girl".
heat rushes through your stomach so fast your elbows nearly buckle. your forehead presses to the pillow once more, trembling, your skirt brushing your waist with every sharp movement. he leans back slightly, watching your body take him, watching the curve of your spine, tracing the dip of your spine with slow, heavy strokes.
you whisper against the pillow, breath shaking, "sukunaâ"
"i know," his voice drops, low and rough. "i can feel you clenching".
your thighs squeeze around him, trembling uncontrollably. you bury your face deeper into the pillow as the tension snaps, your body tightening and shaking, you breath breaking into muffled cries that you can't stop even if you try.
sukuna grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him as you cum, riding out every wave. the milky ring that forms at the base of his cock makes his eyes flash. the sound he makes is low, deep in his chest, like he's trying not to groan out loud. "shitâfuckâ"
you collapse forward onto your elbows, hair falling over your shoulders as he thrusts a few more times, harder, deeper, losing the slow rhythm he'd been controlling so carefully. his hand fists in your hair, keeping your head tilted so he can look at your face, even if all he sees is the flushed curve of your cheek and your parted lips.
you hear his breath stutter. then he stops, buried completely inside you, and you feel his cum spill deep and heavy enough that your eyes roll back.
his grip loosens and his breathing steadies. for a moment, the only sound in the room is your shaky inhale. when he finally pulls out, both of your cum oozes out of your cunt, your legs give out and you sink slowly onto the mattress, cheek still pressed into the pillow, hair messy, skirt and blouse wrinkled, breath uneven.
sukuna sits back on his heels behind you, hands running your hips, almost absentmindedly, almost like he doesn't want to stop touching you yet.
"you're loud," he mutters.
you glare at him weakly over your shoulder. "you're not exactly helping".
he smirks. " 's not my fault you can't stay quiet".
you push at his thigh, just hard and annoyed enough to make a point. "you try doing this quietly!"
he raises a brow as he reaches forward and tucks your messy hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your cheek with a touch far gentler than the rest of him has been. "maybe next time," he murmurs, "we don't do this while my dad's home".
you breathe out a shaky laugh. "maybe, but it was you who pulled me in your lap to begin with".
but you both know you absolutely would again.
he leans in, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder for a secondâjust long enough to make your heart flip before he straightens again like nothing happened.
"c'mon." he taps the back of your thigh. "i'll get you water before you leave".
your body still tingles, your legs are still a little weak, but you push yourself upright anyway.
because you know he'll steady you if you can't.
hihihi it's been more than a year since i've written/posted anything whoops.... hope you all enjoyed my first attempt at smut. don't know when i'll post again after this though :p your likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3
you're over at sukuna's place with the intention to study. you two do actually study.... for 10 minutes. his dad being home and just downstairs does nothing to stop the both of you.
mdni 18+. nsfw both sukuna & mc are 18/in their final year of high school. high school au. fwb. piv. raw. cream pie. risk of getting caught. light choking. mc & sukuna live in the same neighbourhood, just a few doors down.
your cheek is already pressed into the warm cotton of sukuna's pillow by the time your thoughts catch up with what your body is doing.
you're tryingâreally, genuinely tryingâto stay quiet, to breathe softly. to not make the kind of sounds that bounce off his bedroom walls. but every time his hips meets yours, every time his cock pushes in deep enough that your thighs tremble, your breath stutters into something that's way too loud for a house that isn't empty today.
his dad is downstairs. you know that, sukuna knows that. and yet...
his hand slides down your spine, heavy and warm, until it's gripping your waist like he's telling your body to remember exactly who it belongs to right now. your arms are stretched above your above, fingers clenching the sheets so tightly your knuckles hurt. your knees sink into his mattress, your back arching without you thinking about it, your hair spilling over your shoulder as you try to breathe through the steady, slow, ruthless rhythm he sets behind you.
a low sound slips out of your mouthâalmost a whine.
sukuna's palm smacks lightly against the side of your hip. not hard, not enough to hurt. just enough to warn. "shh, stay quiet".
you bite your lip, but it doesn't help. if anything, the pressure makes the next sound sharper.
it's been like this for a monthâsomething that wasn't planned, something that started one stupid, late-night when you'd teased him too much and he's snapped in a way you didn't think he was capable of. a month of being friend who...also do this. a month of sneaking into each other's houses at night or during empty afternoons, a month of him fucking you like he's always known your body, a month of you pretending not to notice the way he always looks at your face right before he slides in.
you try burying your mouth into the pillow. it doesn't help. not when he grips your hips, pulls you back onto him, and sinks deeper. your breath catches. loudly.
sukuna leans over you, chest brushing your back, his height dwarfing your smaller frame as his fingers slide under you waist and pull you upward just a littleâjust enough to change the angle. his lips graze your ear, just a breath, nothing more.
"i said quiet.'"
you whisper out a weak "tryingâah!", but the word barely leaves your mouth before his hips snap forward and the sentence ends in a gasp. you can practically feel him smirk behind you. your hair shifts across your cheek as he moves, your body rocking forward with every deep, slow thrust. his room smells like himâclean, warn, faint cologne that clings to his sheets and pillows. you inhale it with every shaky breath. your skirt is bunched around your waist, your blouse still on and half-open from where he pushes his hand under it earlier, impatient.
his fingers slide down between your thighs, brushing lightly where you're already throbbing, making your breath crack. you jerk, voice pitching too highâ
and he covers your mouth with his hand.
not hard, just firm, just enough to make your eyes roll back because you already know what that means.
sukuna's chest presses to your back, his breath slow and steady while yours turns into broken little noises against his palm. every thrust is deeper than the last, unhurried but unforgiving, and the sound of him moving inside you fills the room no matter how hard you try to bury every sound you make. it's a miracle his father hasn't called for his name or even come upstairs.
he mutters quietly into your shoulder, voice low enough to vibrate through your skin. "dad's home, angel".
you nodâor try to. your cheek rubs helplessly against his pillow instead.
"so you better not let him hear you".
you should feel embarrassed. nervous. you should care that his father is only a floor below, probably still watching the tv. but your thighs are shaking, your knees slipping slightly on the sheets, breath fogging against his hand, and all you can think about is the heat curling low in your stomach.
he slows downâonly for a secondâand your body reacts so violently to the sudden lack of motion that you arch back into him, chasing the friction.
sukuna laughs under his breath. "you always do that".
your face burns. you try to twist your head, try to shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but he slides his hand from your mouth to your throat, tilting your chin up, guiding your back into a deeper arch. his fingers apply the slightest bit of pressureânot enough to choke, just enough to force your mouth open on a breathy gasp he definitely wants to hear.
"that's better," he murmurs, and then he's moving again.
your nails claw at the sheets. the rhythm he sets is steady and deliberate like he's not just trying to make you come apart but trying to make you forget there's a world outside his bedroom. his figners on your throat tighten for a moment when you moan too loudly.
you slap your hand over your mouth on instinct.
he chuckles. "good girl".
heat rushes through your stomach so fast your elbows nearly buckle. your forehead presses to the pillow once more, trembling, your skirt brushing your waist with every sharp movement. he leans back slightly, watching your body take him, watching the curve of your spine, tracing the dip of your spine with slow, heavy strokes.
you whisper against the pillow, breath shaking, "sukunaâ"
"i know," his voice drops, low and rough. "i can feel you clenching".
your thighs squeeze around him, trembling uncontrollably. you bury your face deeper into the pillow as the tension snaps, your body tightening and shaking, you breath breaking into muffled cries that you can't stop even if you try.
sukuna grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him as you cum, riding out every wave. the milky ring that forms at the base of his cock makes his eyes flash. the sound he makes is low, deep in his chest, like he's trying not to groan out loud. "shitâfuckâ"
you collapse forward onto your elbows, hair falling over your shoulders as he thrusts a few more times, harder, deeper, losing the slow rhythm he'd been controlling so carefully. his hand fists in your hair, keeping your head tilted so he can look at your face, even if all he sees is the flushed curve of your cheek and your parted lips.
you hear his breath stutter. then he stops, buried completely inside you, and you feel his cum spill deep and heavy enough that your eyes roll back.
his grip loosens and his breathing steadies. for a moment, the only sound in the room is your shaky inhale. when he finally pulls out, both of your cum oozes out of your cunt, your legs give out and you sink slowly onto the mattress, cheek still pressed into the pillow, hair messy, skirt and blouse wrinkled, breath uneven.
sukuna sits back on his heels behind you, hands running your hips, almost absentmindedly, almost like he doesn't want to stop touching you yet.
"you're loud," he mutters.
you glare at him weakly over your shoulder. "you're not exactly helping".
he smirks. " 's not my fault you can't stay quiet".
you push at his thigh, just hard and annoyed enough to make a point. "you try doing this quietly!"
he raises a brow as he reaches forward and tucks your messy hair behind your ear, fingers brushing your cheek with a touch far gentler than the rest of him has been. "maybe next time," he murmurs, "we don't do this while my dad's home".
you breathe out a shaky laugh. "maybe, but it was you who pulled me in your lap to begin with".
but you both know you absolutely would again.
he leans in, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder for a secondâjust long enough to make your heart flip before he straightens again like nothing happened.
"c'mon." he taps the back of your thigh. "i'll get you water before you leave".
your body still tingles, your legs are still a little weak, but you push yourself upright anyway.
because you know he'll steady you if you can't.
hihihi it's been more than a year since i've written/posted anything whoops.... hope you all enjoyed my first attempt at smut. don't know when i'll post again after this though :p your likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3
you and sunday find yourselves on the observation deck on the express on a sleepless night. amidst the hum of the express car and the infinite expanse of space, a candid discussion about regrets, choices, and the meaning of the trailblaze brings you closer.
⯠rainy streets & cigarette tips
you find sunday in a quiet alley in penacony, where heâs hiding from the chaos of the dreamscape. as the rain falls harder, sunday suggests leaving the alley for somewhere else, leading you both through the streets of penacony.
ⶠjingyuan
⯠fresh breezes of dawn
in the tranquil glow of the early morning, jingyuan finds unexpected solace, entranced by the descent of a single leaf, with you sound asleep in his lap.
because of his duties as duke, wriothesley doesnât leave the fortress of meropide often but when he does, he spends the day with you.
⯠nymph's tea party
picnics with wriothesley, inspired by his voiceline 'when the sun is out' .
⯠happy birthday, your grace
the duke's special day.
⯠starry-eyed & smug
wriothesley's been extra busy lately, so you decide to take him out for a picnic after things settled.
ⶠdottore/zandik
⯠your opinion matters more
in most eyes, zandik was a walking nightmare, or the devil himself. however, one should never judge a book by its cover. as someone who had been by his side for quite the number of years, you saw their viewings as false accusations and misunderstanding. yes, most of his thoughts were inhumane and unethical but you always admired his dedication to science and research.
⯠lingering presence
rumour has it that a student's soul who had died on campus at the time lingers there forever. who the ghost student decides to talk to? zandik.
⯠deception
(part 2 of lingering presence) zandik found a way to resurrect you, and you had no idea that it was his plan.
ⶠayato
⯠7th time's a charm
ayaka's been pestering ayato; "you should settle down! you should go out more!". so here he is, at your workplace, waiting for his blind date to arrive. in the end, he gets stood up and decides to ask you out instead.
ⶠdainsleif
⯠as the world crumbles
every year, khaenri'ah would host a ball.
ⶠchilde/tartaglia
⯠rain date
youâre gathering materials around mt. tianheng when it started to pour and a certain fatui harbinger happens to pass by that area.Â
ⶠalhaitham
⯠dance with fireflies
convincing the acting grand sage to accompany you on a little midnight walk turns out to be simpler than you imagined.
you take a slow sip of your coffee while he waits for you to continue your ramble.
"i'm like, in college and i'm yet to experience some sort of⊠actually any type of romance." you swirl your straw absentmindedly in the iced drink. "like everybody in my teenage years, heck, even younger, either received a shy letter on valentines day or somebody proclaimed their love in a romantic way on a date."
sukunaâs scowl deepens slightly, though whether it's from concentration or your topic is hard to tell. he leans back in his chair, stretching one arm over the backrest while his other hand reaches for his drink.
"there's the funny rumors of people having crushes on a person and it turns into something sweet. for me? it was always in a way people would, like⊠fuck with me."
for a moment the only sound between you two is the quiet slurp of sukuna pulling from the straw of his strawberry milkshake, the bright pink drink ridiculously cheerful compared to the permanent unimpressed look on his face.
"am i the problem?" you finally ask, voice quieter now as you reach for your pen, "am i genuinely just not likable looks or personality wise? or both?!"
sukuna exhales slowly through his nose.
for a split second he almost looks relieved, like heâd been bracing himself for a completely different kind of conversation. he shrugs, taking another long sip of his milkshake "maybe.â
sukuna snorts under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward just slightly as he sets the milkshake back down. "i'm jokingâŠ"
he turns back to his notes flipping his pen between his fingers. "i don't think you are the problemâŠ" he pauses, pen hovering for a moment before he scribbles something down in the margins. "maybeee somebody has been flirting with you for a while and you just haven't realized it."
"as if." you cross your arms over your chest immediately, scoffing. âi would have noticed."
sukuna stills.
his pen stops moving entirely. slowly, he lifts his head. his nose scrunches in that irritated yet annoyingly adorable way he does whenever you say something so unbelievably stupid it physically pains him. He arches one brow.
you stare at him, "what?"
he looks at you for another long second, expression flat. then he turns back to his notes again with a quiet sigh. "nothing."
you, however, are nowhere near done. leaning forward again as your pen starts tapping the edge of his notebook.
and the more you talk, the more sukuna feels his braincells quietly evaporating.
"it's justâ" you begin again, waving one hand vaguely in the air. "i would like it if somebody was straightforward with me, you know?" sukuna's pen scratches across the paper a little harder. "like if he came up to me and just bluntly told me: i like you! and i want to take you on a date!â
there's a sharp clack. sukuna drops his pen harshly against the table as he looks up at you with the most deadpan expression you've ever seen.
"i like you and want to take you on a date," he says flatly. "even though we have went on multiple dates you just haven't realized it."
you beam instantly, like a light switched on inside your face. "yeah!" you nod enthusiastically. "something like that!"
sukunaâs eye twitches. "are you fucking stupid?"
"huh?" you blink.
for a moment sukuna just stares at you across the table, like heâs genuinely trying to figure out whether youâre messing with him or if this level of obliviousness is real. then, with a long exhale through his nose, he gestures broadly around the table as if presenting a collection of very obvious evidence.
his notebooks and textbooks are scattered everywhere, pages filled with his sharp, aggressive handwriting, but between the notes are your doodles. little hearts drawn lazily in the margins, tiny stars, a stupid cartoon of him with horns and the word menace written beside it. he always grumbles when you draw in his things, always mutters something about how annoying it is. and yet heâs never erased a single one.
then thereâs the milkshake sitting between you both, the obnoxiously pink strawberry drink slowly melting while water droplets slides down the glass. two straws stick out of it.
as if that wasnât already enough, underneath the table your legs are comfortably tangled together, your knee pressed against his like it has been for the last hour without either of you acknowledging it.
sukuna points at everything in one sweeping motion before his patience finally snaps. "I LIKE YOU, YOU IDIOT!"
you just blink again. your brain feels like itâs slowly short-circuiting as you try to process the words. "whaâ?"
"I HAVE BEEN FLIRTING FOR MONTHS DUMBASS. I THOUGHTâ"
you scrunch your face up immediately at the sudden volume of his voice.
"THATâ" the realization hits him and he abruptly stops, dragging a hand down his face before taking a steadying breath. he clears his throat. "ahem. sorry." the scowl on his face doesnât soften, but when he speaks again his tone drops several levels, far more controlled even if the irritation is still very much present. "I just thought you wanted to take it super duper slow, so i waited and gave signals."
you stare at him, still trying to piece together everything he just said. "really?"
sukuna closes his eyes for a second and pinches the bridge of his nose, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of his nose bridge piercing as he rubs it slowly like heâs fighting off a headache. his shoulders sag just a little. "lord, give me strength."
you lean over the table, cheeks slowly turning pink. "when did you give me signals?!"
"uH, WeLL, I donât KNOW!⊠maybe when you had those awful cramps and i told you to stay over at my place? you were curled up on my bed, whining like a tiny, pathetic kitten, and i held you all night, kissing the top of your head while rubbing your back until you fell asleep?!â
"uhâ wha? i just thoughtâŠ" you shrug, cheeks still warm. "i mean⊠you were just⊠trying to help me feel better, right?"
sukuna blinks at you like heâs about to explode. "what? no! then what the hell did you think that time you suddenly decided you had to have a pomegranate at midnight? i went out to the market just to get it, came back, and ended up cleaning the entire damn thing. I still have the stains on my table!â
you bury your face in your hands, groaning. "i⊠i felt so bad afterward! you kept grumbling the entire time about how annoying i was⊠i didnât think youâd actually go and get it!â
sukuna runs a hand through his hair, his crimson strands falling into his eyes before he yanks them back in exasperation. âhow do you even manage to think of it like that?!â
your cheeks flare red, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "i⊠i guess iâve felt so unloved that i shut down the possibility of anyone⊠liking me⊠for the rest of my life."
sukunaâs scowl deepens, "youâre telling me iâve been acting like some damn wife to you and you didnât realize shit?"
you shake your head, barely able to meet his gaze.
he throws his head back and laughs, a low, throaty sound thatâs equal parts exasperation and amusement, "for fuckâs sake, womanâŠ" he mutters, and then softer, more fondly, "you will be the death of me."
your voice comes out barely audible, trembling just slightly, but itâs enough to pull every ounce of his attention toward you. (as if it was ever directed somewhere else but you) "are you⊠still⊠up for that date?"
he leans closer, grin spreading across his face like heâs been waiting for this moment. "millions of them," his tattooed arm snakes across the table, and he pinches your reddened cheeks, smirking like a predator who finally caught its prey. "but ones that you actually notice the intentions of, dumbass."
rin telling me to post this so i did rahhh, i'mclearing out my drafts cause i'll be busy the next few weeks.. also self-indulgent because i have never experienced any sort of crush lol
đ· make-out sessions  Ⱐrobin!dick grayson x reader drabble
<- i wanna ruin our friendship!
hmm thinking more thoughts about bsf w benefits (sfw benefits cleanse thy minds again) worldâs finest robin dick grayson. soo letâs make out in the janitors closet!! he was 18 canonically in this comic btw.
âDick.â You hiss lowly, âWeâre going to get caught.â You whisper.
âThatâs the fun, hm?â He whispers back as he closes the door of the janitorâs closet behind him and turning to crowd you into the wall. His hands lands on waist, lips on yours immediately, smiling into the kiss.
All your protests melt away will the moulding of your lips into his, grabbing his Gotham High tie to tug him closer. His hands slip onto your hips, chest pressing against yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth.
Youâd been doing this for a few weeks now, it started with âa few kisses never ruined a friendshipâ to âpractice sessionsââan excuse you made to justify it to yourself. Dick pulled you into a kiss at every given opportunity, he had a specific smirk youâd memorised, one his lips pulled into just before eating your face off.
Dick draws circles with his thumb over your now-crumpled skirt. You gasp his name as he moves you pepper kisses across your cheek then down the column of your throat with more rigour and enthusiasm.
âYouâll leave marks!â You hiss again, wacking his shoulder as he sucks on the point where your neck meets your shoulder. You sigh as he continues his ministrations. Your amazing best friend, stealing your breath in a janitorâs closet. Sounds like a scene from a cheap coming of age film.
âAnd?â Dick whispers against your skin, his nose brushing up against your skin as he pulls back just a moment, just to look at you and smirks, something you wanted to kiss off immediately.
âWeâre never beating the dating allegations.â You roll your eyes before his lips are back on yours and his hands slips down to the back of your thigh to lift you to warp your legs around his mid-section. In the distance, you can hear the school bell ring.
áŻâ 's P.S. been thinking about this trope since i read a dean win. fic a long time ago. take this as compensation while i finish all seriesâs iâve promised.
ⶠryomen sukuna
⯠bathroom lies, party truths
college au. best friend's brother troupe. slight suggestiveness
yuji's throwing a party & you're just trying to survive the chaos when you end up at the wrong doorâthe door to sukuna's room. your best friend's brother has always been off-limits, but tonight feels different.
⯠love game!
mdni 18+. nsfw both sukuna & mc are 18/in their final year of high school. high school au. fwb. piv. raw. cream pie. risk of getting caught. light choking. mc & sukuna live in the same neighbourhood, just a few doors down.
you're over at sukuna's place with the intention to study. you two do actually study.... for 10 minutes. his dad being home and just downstairs does nothing to stop the both of you.
ⶠgojo satoru
⯠just this once (again)
non-curse au. childhood friends. friends with benefits. slight nsfw
satoru wasn't supposed to stay this late. him dropping by your place was routine by now, just like the unspoken rules you two have followed since crossing that line years ago. friends since childhood, friends with benefits since... well, neither of you cared to pinpoint when.
ⶠnanami kento
⯠late nights
fluff. reader is not aware that nanami's a jujutsu sorcerer. established relationship.
nanami likes to spend his non-jujutsu time with his beloved; home movie dates and cuddling.
â  |   or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campusâ   âŠ
ê°âincludingâê± â ! â phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          àšà§Â         ê°âwarningsâê± â ! â modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.
â     tags     âĄÂ    .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!
ⶠ: PHAINONÂ
 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball teamâyou'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when heâs on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. itâs a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no oneâs surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by himâhe reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.
you donât deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think heâs cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. heâs rather tall for his ageâjust a year below you but heâs far surpassed your heightâand he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you donât mean it in a bad way.Â
after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainonâs matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream âyouâre here for phainon right?â and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.
âoh god, are you alright?!âÂ
someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and youâre forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.
âiâm so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasnât paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packsââ
âwill you calm down? youâre making my headache worse!â you donât mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery personâs concern, but god does he talk too much.
âright⊠right! sorry.â
you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize whoâs in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.
âi⊠need to go. sorry.â you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you donât pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.
that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didnât necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.
he sent a lot of messagesâbroken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.
you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a stormâa never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise itâs because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: âwould you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? itâll be my treat ofc!!!!â
ⶠ: ANAXA (GORAS)
you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.
you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didnât need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.
anaxa wonât admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you donât show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. heâd rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyoneâyour banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his juniorâthe school athleteâand how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasnât that your thing with him?
Â
âpray tell,â you flinch at the voiceâfailing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. âwhy is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?â
if you were any other student, youâd think he sounds jealousâbut that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? youâre very sure the only emotion heâs ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that youâve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of youâa tiny, tiny partâdoes feel a bit guilty. you werenât one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).
âlook if this is about the test scores, iâmâŠâ
you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and thereâavoiding yours at all costâand posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.
âi⊠apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions werenât to bring you down. i justâŠâ he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. âwanted you to continue competing with me.â
by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cupâmedium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic âitâs a sorry gift.â he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.
the two of you separate on the second floor of campusâphainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you donât realize that youâre now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, youâd see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.
when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. âsorry for avoiding you! no matter what, youâre still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?â anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.
ⶠ: MYDEIMOS
if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird thatâs always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those thingsâyou see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.
to say itâs a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatementâyou were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyoneâs time that you canât find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.
you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.
âwhat about my notes?â
you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air.Â
âuh⊠well, you seeâŠâ you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!
you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your armâa nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you donât miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.
âif you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. itâs not like iâm going to bite your head off.â his voice is stern but if you listen closely, youâll realize thereâs an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.
âthank you so much, mydei!â you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.
âgo share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.â
mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, âwhat is it?â
you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, âthank you, really! you donât understand how much everyone needs these right now.â
he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.
when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his headâshe questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.
he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesnât miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didnât have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run outâhe just wants to show off the item with your name on it.
gojo satoru x reader. friends with benefit, non-curse au.
summary: satoru wasn't supposed to stay this lateâ him dropping by your place was routine by now, just like the unspoken rules you two had followed since crossing that line years ago. friends since childhood, friends with benefits since... well, neither of you cared to pinpoint when.
warning: a little nsfw, minors dni
the city hummed outside the window, the soft glow of neon lights casting fragmented patterns across the hardwood floor of your apartment. the faint scent of his cologneâ something woodsy and just a little smokyâ lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of freshly opened beer and the warmth of lingering summer heat.
you sat cross-legged on the couch, one hand gripping the neck of a sweating beer bottle while the other aimlessly flipped through a magazine you werenât actually reading, a halfhearted playlist played in the background.
satoru leaned against the counter separating the kitchen from the living room, arms crossed, his gaze entirely too sharp for someone who was supposed to be relaxed. his hair was damp from an earlier shower, a few loose strands sticking to his forehead. he was in a plain black shirt and gray sweatpants, the kind of casual look that shouldâve felt unremarkable but instead felt maddeningly intentional, like he knew exactly how good he looked.
âdo you ever sit still?â you asked, finally breaking the silence.
âdo you ever stop asking questions?â satoru shot back, grinning. the kind of grin that managed to be both teasing and infuriatingly charming.
the silence stretched again, and you hated it. not because you didnât like silence, but because silence with satoru had a way of digging under your skin. he had a knack for looking at you like he was peeling away layers you didnât know you had.
âyouâve been weird all night,â he said finally, his voice breaking the tension like a knife. he pushed off the counter and waked over, plopping down on the couch beside you. his body heat was immediate, his shoulder brushing against yours.
âiâm not weird,â you said, still not looking at him.
âyouâre weird,â he insisted, leaning in closer. âyouâve got that look.â
âwhat look?â
âthe one you get when youâre either really pissed off or really turned on.â
your head whipped toward him, heat rushing to your face. âyouâre such an asshole.â
âand you didnât deny it.â satoru smirked, leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the couch, his fingers barely grazing your shoulder. his legs spread out like he owned the whole space, the picture of infuriating confidence.
âseriously, what your problem tonight? did some guy piss you off?â his tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, something possessive lurking beneath the surface.
âno,â you said quickly, too quickly.
his eyes narrowed, his smirk deepening. âah, so it was a guy.â
you groaned, setting your beer down on the coffee table with a clink. âitâs nothing.â
âdoesnât sound like nothing.â
âsatoru-â
â careful,â his voice low and laced with amusement. âyouâre starting to get angryâŠor is my best friend really keen on having hate sex tonight?â
the words hung in the air, heavy, and your breath hitched despite yourself. âyouâre such a jerk,â you said, but your voice lacked bite, betraying the flicker of his words sparked in you.
âand yet, youâre still here,â he countered, leaning closer, his eyes dark and teasing. satoruâs hand slide along the back of the couch until his fingers grazed your neck, a light, teasing touch that sent shivers down your spine.
âsatoru,â you warned, but it came out softer than you intended, more like a plea than a threat.
he tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. âyouâre always so tough, so composed. but right nowâŠâ he let the sentence hang, his thumb brushing lightly against the curve of your jaw.
your breath caught, heart pounding against your ribs. you shouldâve pulled away, shouldâve told him off, but instead, you stayed rooted to the spot, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
âyouâre impossible,â you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
âand youâre beautiful when youâre mad,â he shot back, grin softening into something more genuine, more dangerous.
before you could respondâ before you could even thinkâ satoru closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as much a challenge as it was a question.
you kissed him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him like he was the only solid thing in a world spinning off its axis. satoruâs hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap, the kiss deepening into something hotter, more desperate.
when you finally broke apart, both of you breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other. âthis is a bad idea,â you said, though your voice lacked conviction.
âprobably,â he agreed, his hands tightening on your waist. âbut since when have we cared about that?â
you hated how much sense that made.
and his lips found yours again, all thoughts of right and wrong disappeared, swallowed by the heat of the moment.
summary: you noticed that wriothesley's been extra busy lately, so you decide to take him out for a picnic after things settled.
the night in fontaine was tranquil, a rare moment of calm after a day filled with the steady hum of city life. the usual hum of the city fades into the background, leaving only the soft lapping of water from the canals and the distant sound of chattering. you and wriothesley had left the fortress to enjoy a moment of quiet, tucked far enough out of sight to escape the endless responsibilities that always seemed to weigh on him.
the picnic was supposed to be a quick, casual thingâjust some pastries some teaâbut of course, wriothesley insisted on carrying the basket himself. you hadnât even had the chance to protest before heâd made some smart remark about how it was 'too heavy' for you, even though the thing was light as a feather.
now, as you sat beside him, leaning against a stone bench by the canal, the last crumbs of your pastry scattered between the two of you, the quiet was almost too perfect. there was a full moon tonight, casting everything in a soft, silvery glow. fontaine looked especially beautiful from here, the canals lit up by lanterns and the city alive with a quiet hum from afar.
youâd been stealing glances at him for a while nowâsometimes out of the corner of your eye, other times a little too obviously when you thought he wasnât paying attention. but wriothesley always seemed to notice.
âyouâve been staring at me for the past five minutes,â he said, his tone relaxed but with a hint of amusement in it.
you froze, mid-reach for your cup of tea. crap.
âi wasnât staring,â you said quickly, the words tumbling out way too fast. you tried to play it cool, glancing back at the distant lights on the canal like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. âi was just admiring the view.â
wriothesley raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into that teasing half-smile that always made your heart race. "the view, huh?â his voice was laced with a teasing edge. ânot me?â
you quickly glanced away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. âyeah, the view. the actual view.â you muttered, but the words lacked their usual confidence.
wriothesley couldn't help but chuckle, the sound rich and comforting in the air. he shifted slightly, closing the gap between you, his shoulder brushing against yours. he didn't need to say anything; the way he was looking at you now told you everything. you were definitely caught.
your heart skipped, and you could feel the flush creeping up your neck. you opened your mouth to protest but found yourself at a loss for words, unable to tear your gaze from his teasing smirk.
ânot going to deny it, are you?â he continued, his voice lowering in that calm, confident way that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. "you got a soft spot for me?"
you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. âit's not like you don't know... what's it to you?"
wriothesley didn't even hesitate. "nothing at all," he said, the warmth in his voice deepening. "you already know i have a soft spot for you, too."
you swallowed, pulse quickening at his words. even after everythingâ after all the moments youâd shared, the stolen glances, and the kissesâ you still couldnât get used to how the simplest words from him could make your heart flutter.
for a few moments, neither of you said anything. the silence wasnât uncomfortable, though. it was the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. just the sound of the water and the distant bustle of fontaineâs city life in the background.
then wriothesley nudged you again, just lightly this time, and you looked up to find him smiling that knowing smile of his. âwell,â he began, voice still soft, âif you're going to keep staring at me, at least i should make it worth your while, right?â
you raised an eyebrow at him, though you sure pretty sure where this was going. âand whatâs that supposed to mean?â
before you could confirm your suspicions, wriothesley leaned in, lips crashing onto yours, soft and slow, under the moonlit sky. when he pulled away, one hand brushes your lower lip while the other moves to wrap around your waist. âiâd say thatâs worth a few stares, wouldnât you?â
ⶠlighter lorenz
⯠lighter's 6-step guide to ruining your kitchen (and winning your heart)
fluff.
what starts as lighter trying to fix your broken coffee maker turns into an explosion of chaos, tools and laughter. he's confidentâtoo confidentâbut even as things spiral out of control, you can't help but enjoy the mess (he's trying his best).
sunday x reader. sunday smokes here. this takes place some time after jade sends him off with wise words and a deal (YALL MY SUNDAY BRAINROT GETS WORSE EVERYDAY UUEEEEđ)
summary: you find sunday in a quiet alley in penacony, where heâs hiding from the chaos of the dreamscape. as the rain falls harder, sunday suggests leaving the alley for somewhere else, leading you both through the streets of penacony.
the first thing you noticed was the rain. it's wasn't the hard, dramatic kind of storm that soaked you to the bone in an instant. it was soft, steady, the kind that crept up on you until you realised your clothes were damp and the air was colder than it should've been. the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, turning the streets into rivers of colour. penacony always felt alive, buzzing like it could shake itself apart at any moment.
you weren't sure why you ended up in that alley, but then again, you never really did when it came to finding sunday. he had a way of being exactly where you didn't expect him, but always where you needed him.
tonight, he was leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows. his cigarette glowed faintly in the dim light, the ember flaring and fading like a heartbeat. the rain didn't seem to bother him. he just stood there, his shoulders relaxed, hood tucked neatly around his neck like he wasn't standing in a damp, grimy alley in the middle of the dreamscape.
"lost again?" he asked, not even looking up as you stepped closer.
"looking for you, actually," you shot back, crossing your arms.
his lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "well, you found me. congratulations."
you rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall opposite him. the alley smelled like rain on hot metal, with a faint undercurrent of grease and smoke from the food stalls nearby. the faint thump of bass from a club down the street echoed through the narrow space, mixing with the sound of water dripping from the eaves.
"do you always hide out in places like this?" you asked, watching as he took another slow drag of his cigarette.
sunday shrugs, exhaling smoke that curled lazily into the air. "sometimes. better than being in the middle of all that." he gestured vaguely toward the street, where people moved in a chaotic stream under the flashing lights.
"you don't strike me as the hiding type."
"and you don't strike me as the following type," he countered, amber eyes flicking toward you.
you smirked. "maybe i'm full of surprises."
for a moment, neither of you said anything. the rain was picking up, the drops heavier now, tapping against the pavement and the metal pipes lining the alley walls. you watched as the puddle near your feet rippled with each drop, the neon lights above turning it into a kaleidoscope of colour.
"have you ever thought about leaving penacony?" you asked suddenly.
sunday's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. he didn't answer right away, just flicked ash from his cigarette and let it fall into the puddle. "sometimes," he said finally. "but leaving doesn't mean anything if you don't know where you're going."
you tilted your head, considering that. "isn't anywhere better than here?"
"not always."
his tone was flat, but there was something in itâ something sharp, like a memory he didn't want to share. you decided not to push him. instead, you let the silence stretch out, the sound of the rain filling the space between you.
"let's go," he said, voice low but firm.
"where?"
"anywhere that's not here."
sunday grabs your wrist, and you follow him without question as he led the way out of the alley. the streets were quieter now, most people having taken shelter from the rain. the dreamscape felt different like thisâ less alive, maybe, but more open.
"do you think you'll ever stop running?" you asked as you walked, glancing down at the hand sunday wrapped around your wrist.
he glanced back at you, his expression thoughtful. "not running, not anymore. just... moving."
you nodded, the answer feeling right somehow. the two of you kept walking, the rain soaking through your clothes, but neither of you seemed to mind it. it wasn't about the destination. it never was.
sunday x reader. sunday smokes here. this takes place some time after jade sends him off with wise words and a deal (YALL MY SUNDAY BRAINROT GETS WORSE EVERYDAY UUEEEEđ)
summary: you find sunday in a quiet alley in penacony, where heâs hiding from the chaos of the dreamscape. as the rain falls harder, sunday suggests leaving the alley for somewhere else, leading you both through the streets of penacony.
the first thing you noticed was the rain. it's wasn't the hard, dramatic kind of storm that soaked you to the bone in an instant. it was soft, steady, the kind that crept up on you until you realised your clothes were damp and the air was colder than it should've been. the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, turning the streets into rivers of colour. penacony always felt alive, buzzing like it could shake itself apart at any moment.
you weren't sure why you ended up in that alley, but then again, you never really did when it came to finding sunday. he had a way of being exactly where you didn't expect him, but always where you needed him.
tonight, he was leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows. his cigarette glowed faintly in the dim light, the ember flaring and fading like a heartbeat. the rain didn't seem to bother him. he just stood there, his shoulders relaxed, hood tucked neatly around his neck like he wasn't standing in a damp, grimy alley in the middle of the dreamscape.
"lost again?" he asked, not even looking up as you stepped closer.
"looking for you, actually," you shot back, crossing your arms.
his lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "well, you found me. congratulations."
you rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall opposite him. the alley smelled like rain on hot metal, with a faint undercurrent of grease and smoke from the food stalls nearby. the faint thump of bass from a club down the street echoed through the narrow space, mixing with the sound of water dripping from the eaves.
"do you always hide out in places like this?" you asked, watching as he took another slow drag of his cigarette.
sunday shrugs, exhaling smoke that curled lazily into the air. "sometimes. better than being in the middle of all that." he gestured vaguely toward the street, where people moved in a chaotic stream under the flashing lights.
"you don't strike me as the hiding type."
"and you don't strike me as the following type," he countered, amber eyes flicking toward you.
you smirked. "maybe i'm full of surprises."
for a moment, neither of you said anything. the rain was picking up, the drops heavier now, tapping against the pavement and the metal pipes lining the alley walls. you watched as the puddle near your feet rippled with each drop, the neon lights above turning it into a kaleidoscope of colour.
"have you ever thought about leaving penacony?" you asked suddenly.
sunday's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. he didn't answer right away, just flicked ash from his cigarette and let it fall into the puddle. "sometimes," he said finally. "but leaving doesn't mean anything if you don't know where you're going."
you tilted your head, considering that. "isn't anywhere better than here?"
"not always."
his tone was flat, but there was something in itâ something sharp, like a memory he didn't want to share. you decided not to push him. instead, you let the silence stretch out, the sound of the rain filling the space between you.
"let's go," he said, voice low but firm.
"where?"
"anywhere that's not here."
sunday grabs your wrist, and you follow him without question as he led the way out of the alley. the streets were quieter now, most people having taken shelter from the rain. the dreamscape felt different like thisâ less alive, maybe, but more open.
"do you think you'll ever stop running?" you asked as you walked, glancing down at the hand sunday wrapped around your wrist.
he glanced back at you, his expression thoughtful. "not running, not anymore. just... moving."
you nodded, the answer feeling right somehow. the two of you kept walking, the rain soaking through your clothes, but neither of you seemed to mind it. it wasn't about the destination. it never was.
summary: you and sunday find yourselves on the observation deck on the express on a sleepless night. amidst the hum of the express car and the infinite expanse of space, a candid discussion about regrets, choices, and the meaning of the trailblaze brings you closer.
the observation deck of the astral express was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the stars streaking past outside. you leaned against the glass railing, arms folded, watching the endless cascade of light. the train's hum filled the quietâ a constant, steady rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of something alive.
it was peaceful, or at least it should have been. but tonight, your thoughts were restless, looping endlessly over the events of penacony and the strange, quiet man who had chosen to stay. the sound of soft footsteps drew your attention. you didn't have to look to know who it was.
"couldn't sleep either?" you asked, your voice low.
sunday stepped into view, his coat gone, replaced by a loose sweater that made him seem... softer somehow. less like the enigmatic enforcer of the order and more like someone trying to figure out what to do next.
"guess not," he said simply, moving to stand beside you. he rested his forearms on the railing, gaze fixed on the stars outside. for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either. it carried the weight of unspoken things, of questions you weren't sure you wanted to ask.
"how does it feel?" you asked finally, breaking the stillness. "being here, i mean."
sunday's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "different."
you turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. âthatâs all i get? just âdifferentâ?â
he shrugged, gaze never leaving the stars outside. "not much else to say. it's... quieter than i expected."
you laughed softly, shaking your head. "quieter? on the express? have you met march and the trailblazer?"
he huffed out a laugh, low and barely audible, but it was there. âfair point.â the quiet settled again, but this time it felt lighter, less heavy. you leaned back against the railing, tilting your head to watch him.
âdo you regret it?â you asked, your tone careful.
âregret what?â
âleaving penacony. coming here. everything.â
sunday didnât answer right away. his gaze was still fixed on the stars, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than youâd ever heard it. âsometimes,â he admitted. âitâs hard not to think about what couldâve been different. what i couldâve done differently.â
you felt your chest tighten at his words, the raw honesty in them.
âbut,â he continued, glancing at you, âregretâs not the same as wishing i hadnât done it. sometimes, things just... are. you canât change them, only decide what you do next.â
you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. âand what do you want to do next?â
sunday leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. his gaze drifted to the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass. âi haven't figured that part out yet, i guess that's the point of being here."
"finding your trailblaze?" you offered, a small smile tugging at your lips.
he gave a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the hum of the train. "something like that." the two of you stood there for a while longer, the stars outside painting the room in shifting patterns of gold and silver.
"do you miss it?" sunday asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.
"my life before the express?"
"yeah."
you thought about it, your mind flickering back to the chaos of your home world, the suffocating systems, the fleeting moments of joy amidst everything. "sometimes," you admitted. "but not the way it was. just the people. the good parts."
sunday nodded, his expression thoughtful. âagreed.â
the stars streaked on, endless and unchanging, but the two of you stayed rooted in that moment, side by side. for the first time since everything, the weight on your chest felt lighter.
âyouâll figure it out,â you said softly, glancing at him. âwhat you want to do next, i mean.â
he tilted his head slightly, amber eyes searching yours, like he wasnât entirely convinced.
âyou will,â you insisted, your voice steadier this time. âthatâs what the trailblaze is about, isnât it? finding your way forward, even when you donât know what that looks like yet. itâs not about having all the answers or knowing exactly where youâre going. itâs about choosing to keep moving. to trust that every step will lead you somewhere worth being.â
sunday's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. the soft glow of the stars outside cast shifting patterns across his face, and for a moment, he didn't seem like the man you'd met in penaconyâ the one weighed down by his past, his responsibilities as the former head of the oak family.
âyou make it sound simple,â he said finally, his voice low but not dismissive.
you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. âitâs not, but nothing worth doing ever is. the trailblaze isnât about the destinationâ itâs about what you discover along the way. about finding the pieces of yourself you didnât know youâd lost.â
he looked away then, his gaze shifting back to the stars outside. his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, like the weight he carried had eased, even if just for a moment.
âguess iâve got a lot of pieces to find,â he murmured.
âand youâll find them,â you said with quiet confidence. âone step at a time. everyone here on the express is rooting for you, me included.â
the stars streaked on outside, endless and infinite, but the moment between you felt groundedâsolid, real. sunday didnât say anything more, but the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, and for the first time, you thought he might just believe it too.
lighter's 6-step guide to ruining your kitchen (and winning your heart)
lighter lorenz x reader
summary: what starts as lighter trying to fix your broken coffee maker turns into an explosion of chaos, tools, and laughter. he's confidentâ too confidentâ but even as things spiral out of control, you can't help but enjoy the mess. (he's trying his best)
you eyed the old coffee maker like it had personally wronged you. in fairness, it kind of hadâ months of leaking water, leaking coffee, sputtering, and smelling vaguely like burnt plastic had left you at your wit's end. when lighter showed up for a visit and saw you glaring at it, he made the offer:
"i can fix that for you."
you raised a skeptical eyebrow. "can you?"
"please," he said, rolling up his sleeves with the bravado of someone who definitely had no idea what they were doing. "i've tackled bigger challenges."
step one: the toolbox gauntlet
it started innocently enough. you dug out the dusty old toolbox you hadnât touched in years while lighter sets the coffee maker on your kitchen counter like it was a patient awaiting surgery.
"this is a mess," he said, holding up a screwdriver and spinning it in his fingers like he was auditioning for a hardware commercial.
"i know," you replied. "that's why i was going to buy a new one."
"where's the fun in that?" lighter grinned at you. "trust me, i've got this."
famous last words.
step two: controlled chaos (emphasis on chaos)
lighter pops open the back panel with alarming confidence, revealing a tangled mess of wires. "here's your problem," he said, pointing at the horrifying jumble like it was obvious.
"oh really?" you deadpanned. "i thought it was working perfectly."
he ignored your sarcasm and started tinkering, tools clinking against the counter as he muttered things like "that's weird" and "pretty sure this goes here". you leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. at one point, a small spark shot out of the machine, and both of you jumped back.
"totally normal," lighter said, though his wide eyes behind his tinted glasses betrayed him.
"normal for what? a sci-fi action movie?"
"relax", he said waving you off. "i've got it under control."
you weren't sure what definition of "control" he was using, but it definitely wasn't yours.
step three: the great coffee maker escape
things escalated when lighter attempted to plug the machine back in for a test run. it hummed ominously, sputtered, and then released a small puff of smoke. you grabbed a kitchen towel, ready to smother it in case of fire.
"uh, that's... progress?" lighter offers weakly.
"progress toward a lawsuit," you muttered, fanning the smoke away.
he finally threw in the towel, setting the screwdriver down with an exaggerated sigh. "okay, maybe it's more stubborn that i thought."
"lighter, it's dead." you laughed, shaking your head. "you didn't fix itâ you put it out of misery."
step four: damage control
despite the chaos, lighter didn't look defeated. in fact, he looked entirely too pleased with himself as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and smirked at you. "hey at least we tried," he said. "and by we, i mean me, because i did all the work."
âoh, yes, all your hard work ruining my kitchen,â you teased, gesturing to the tools and coffee maker debris scattered everywhere.
âruined is a strong word,â he countered, nudging you with his elbow. âi prefer âtemporarily restructured.ââ
you rolled your eyes but couldnât stop smiling. âwell, thank you for temporarily restructuring my coffee maker into a pile of junk.â
âanytime,â he said, his grin widening. âseriously, though, iâll help you pick out a new one. one with fewer... deathtrap vibes.â
âappreciated,â you said, grabbing a damp cloth to start cleaning up.
step five: the clean-up crew
cleaning was just as chaotic as the diy attempt. lighter insisted on washing his hands in the tiniest sink possible, accidentally knocking over a glass in the process. you spent more time dodging his elbows than actually organising the tools.
âmaybe stick to your day job,â you joked, shoving a wrench back into the toolbox.
âfunny,â he replied, leaning over the counter to grab a towel. âi think i make an excellent handyman.â
âsure,â you said, smirking. âif the goal is to create more problems than you started with.â
he shot you a mock-offended look, but the glimmer in his eye gave him away. âyou wound me.â
step six: the aftermath
by the time the kitchen was semi-clean and the coffee maker officially declared beyond repair, you were both leaning against the counter, exhausted but grinning.
âyou know,â you said, nudging him with your shoulder, âyouâre banned from fixing anything in my apartment ever again.â
âfair enough,â he replied, straightening up. âbut admit itâyou had fun.â
âfun?â You gave him a look. âthatâs what weâre calling this disaster?â
âa masterpiece of domestic chaos,â he corrected, his grin teasing.
you laughed, shaking your head. âalright, fine. it was... entertaining.â
âentertaining?â he leaned closer, raising an eyebrow. âtry âthe best time youâve had all week.ââ
âdonât push it,â you said, but the smile on your face betrayed you.
