#anyway--he has no right looking this cute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mintyys-blog · 2 days ago

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…dawgg whahshdd literally the most random thought ever but imagine one day, ONE day bringing it up to Mark how you’re considering getting nipple piercings and wanted his thoughts? ☺️

Like, you look real nonchalant asking about it and I can just imagine the reaction LMAO - Him processing the question, probably sputtering and blinking as he imagined you. With the piercings. Then mark becomes tomato and he just watches you’re neutral expression turned devious with a grin and a giggle. Like you WANTED to fluster him.

OHHH that’d be a fun thing to play on the variants lmao. You treat it like a joke when the marks are all 100% 👍🔥 about it. You alr planned to do it anyway but them wanting it def helps.

NEED YOUR OPINION (AND YOUR HANDS) | mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: nipple piercings, smut, nipple sucking

Mark was sprawled on the couch like usual, socked feet up on the coffee table, hair wild from the shower and a big bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest. It was a rare day off—no supervillains, no explosions, no flying off to space. Just a B-movie about mutant sharks and bad green screen.

And you ruined it instantly.

“So, I’ve been thinking about getting nipple piercings.”

He choked on a kernel so violently you had to pause the movie. He sat up straight, coughing and red-faced, pounding a fist to his chest like he was dying. “I’m sorry—what?!”

You blinked at him like you hadn’t just dropped a nuke in his lap. “Piercings. On my nipples. Y’know, like jewelry? I think they’d look really cute.”

Mark looked like you’d just short-circuited his brain. He stared at you, blinking dumbly while you tapped through pictures on your phone.

“These are so pretty,” you mused aloud, showing him options. “Look—this one has tiny diamonds. Oh, and this one’s got little star dangles. I’d love something with chains, too. Like, super delicate gold.”

Mark leaned over slightly, and you caught the exact moment his eyes registered the photos. His face went crimson so fast you actually giggled. That innocent, lopsided grin you gave him only made it worse.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face, ears glowing. “You’re not serious. You’re just messing with me, right?”

You shrugged. “Dead serious. Why, you don’t like the idea?”

“I didn’t say that!” he said way too fast, then immediately bit his lip. “I mean—I don’t not like it. You’d…look good. Like, really good.”

You leaned closer, voice dipping teasingly. “You picturing it?”

“I’m trying not to!”

You raised your brows. “Aw. You didn’t already imagine what I’d look like with them?”

“Wh—!” His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Okay, that’s a trap. I’m not answering that.”

You snickered and leaned back smugly, pulling your knees up onto the couch. “Mmhm. Thought so. You’re so easy, Grayson.”

“I’m gonna combust,” he whispered to himself, burying his face in a pillow.

Three hours later, you were in the bathroom with a piercing needle, a saline spray bottle, and YouTube open to a DIY piercing video you definitely weren’t following closely enough.

“This is fine,” you muttered under your breath, heart racing. “This is definitely smart and fine and cool.”

The first one hurt like hell, but you powered through with grit and sheer spite. The needle shook a little in your hand, but you got the barbell in—barely—and hissed as you tried to screw the cap on with trembling fingers. “Ugh. Nope. Can’t reach.”

You called down the hall like you were asking him to grab the remote. “Babe! Can you come here a sec?”

Mark walked in with his usual casual saunter, shirt half tucked into sweatpants and a slice of pizza in hand—then froze in the doorway.

You were standing there in just pajama shorts, bralette pushed up, holding your breast in one hand like a war-wounded soldier.

“…I wasn’t ready for this,” he said weakly.

You smiled sweetly. “Can you help screw this on? My hands are shaking.”

His jaw dropped. “You already did one?! You said you were just thinking about it—!”

“I thought fast,” you said nonchalantly. “Just need help with the cap. I can’t grip it right.”

Mark looked terrified to move. “Am I—am I allowed to touch you? Is this like a medical emergency or a sexy trap or both?”

You laughed. “Mark, it’s a titanium barbell. You’re not going to turn me on by touching the metal. It just hurts to reach. Be a good helper.”

He approached like you were a live grenade. His hand hovered for a second before gently taking the end of the jewelry between two fingers, twisting it in slowly, carefully, lips slightly parted in concentration.

“Holy crap,” he muttered under his breath. “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Careful, doc,” you said, smirking. “I might start calling you Dr. Grayson.”

He visibly faltered. “You are evil.”

You winked. “You love it.”

Once the first one was in, you sprayed it down and grabbed the second needle.

Mark’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, wait, you’re doing both tonight?”

You snorted. “You think I’m walking around lopsided? C’mon, be serious.”

He watched in awe and low-key panic as you did the second one yourself, breathing through your nose, eyes fluttering shut as the needle slid through. You winced again, but your hands were steadier this time.

After both were in, you stared in the mirror, head tilted thoughtfully.

“…I look hot as hell.”

Mark, who had not sat down the entire time: “Confirmed.”

You turned to him, smug. “Wanna see?”

His soul left his body. “YOU’RE LITERALLY SHOWING ME ALREADY—”

“No, like with jewelry. Later. I’m gonna get those chains I showed you.”

He made a strangled noise.

You pulled your bralette back down and sauntered past him like you hadn’t just personally restructured his brain chemistry. “Oh, and remind me to order some of that gold saline spray. This cheap one stinks.”

Mark just nodded silently, pizza slice forgotten in his hand.

You paused in the doorway, looked over your shoulder, and whispered like it was a secret: “You should see how good they look under thin shirts.”

Boom. Mark.exe has crashed.

TWO WEEKS LATER…

Mark was scrolling through his phone on your bed when you stepped out of the bathroom in a loose tank top—no bra. He glanced up once, not thinking much of it, until you turned just so, the fabric brushing against your chest and—

Click.

His brain shut off.

There was a soft glint under the shirt. A subtle outline. Just enough to confirm that yes—those were definitely the piercings. And they were healed. And you were showing them off on purpose.

“You’re staring,” you said, voice all silk and mischief.

Mark tried to look anywhere else. He failed.

“You’re doing this to me,” he mumbled, sounding personally victimized. “You planned this.”

You tilted your head. “Did I? Or am I just comfortable in my own home?”

Mark was already halfway under the covers trying to hide his face. “This is bullying. You’re a menace.”

You laughed as you climbed into bed next to him, casually stretching so the tank slipped again and the light hit just right.

Mark peeked. Groaned. “You’re literally killing me.”

“You’ll live,” you purred. He sighed, “I’m not so sure..”

It started the same way all your heated makeouts did lately—with you on top of him, lips tangled, fingers slipping under each other’s clothes. But the second your chest brushed his, you felt the shift. Mark paused. Just for a second.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, lips wet from kissing. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at you with a flush creeping over his cheeks and a familiar, bashful look in his eyes.

“Nothing. I just…” he exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to the curve of your chest. “Are you sure they’re healed enough?”

You blinked, then smiled. Soft. Warm. Affectionate.

“They don’t hurt anymore, Mark.”

“I know,” he said quickly, pushing his thumb across your hipbone, grounding himself. “But you said that like, two weeks ago. And I—I looked it up.”

You snorted. “You Googled it?”

He looked offended. “Yeah? Of course I did! Six to twelve months for full healing? Cartilage tissue? Possible migration if they get irritated too early? I read like three blogs.”

You bit your lip to hide a grin. “So you’ve been suffering all this time out of scientific guilt?”

Mark groaned, head thunking against the pillow. “I just—if I touch them and it sets something back I will never forgive myself.”

Your smile softened into something sweeter. You leaned down, brushing your nose against his. “Hey,” you whispered. “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

He looked up at you with those wide brown eyes—so full of love and barely restrained hunger. “Okay,” he breathed. “But I’m going slow.”

“Good,” you whispered back, settling over him. “I want slow.”

His hands came up so gently it almost didn’t feel real. Fingers skimming under the edge of your top, knuckles grazing bare skin. He pushed the fabric up, waiting for your nod before fully lifting it off.

His breath caught.

There they were. Delicate titanium. A glint of gold. Nestled through soft, perfect skin. Slightly pink, but healthy.

You looked down at him and asked, so sweet it was cruel, “Well? You like?”

He laughed under his breath, absolutely wrecked. “That’s not a strong enough word.”

Then he sat up, kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck. One hand cupped your side while the other hovered near your chest, thumb brushing just beneath one piercing, not quite touching yet.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, lips grazing your skin. “You have no idea.”

“Mark,” you whispered, arching slightly into his hand. “Touch me.”

He finally did.

So carefully, so gently, like you were porcelain. His thumb grazed the jewelry first, testing pressure. When you didn’t flinch, he let his hand fully rest there, thumb rolling slowly over the metal, teasing but never rough.

You whimpered, thighs clenching tighter around his hips. “God, you’re so careful.”

“You deserve careful,” he murmured, kissing just above your breast. “And I’m gonna take my time.”

Then he kissed one. Slow. Open-mouthed. Right above the barbell. His tongue barely brushed the jewelry, and your whole body shivered.

You whispered his name, a desperate sound, hips rocking gently against the pressure of his body under you. He kept one hand on your waist and used the other to thumb at the other piercing—light pressure, just enough to make you twitch.

He looked up, lips parted, pupils blown wide. “You tell me the second it hurts,” he whispered. “Okay?”

You nodded, panting. “Yeah. Just—Mark—don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kissed and touched and worshipped you. Moving so slow it was unbearable in the best way, teasing you until your legs were shaking and the only thing you could say was his name over and over again.

At one point, he paused just to look at you. Sweaty. Blushed. Piercings gleaming under his fingertips.

“You’re unreal,” he said, voice shaking. “Like—dangerous.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you deep and hot. “Told you I’d ruin you.”

He laughed breathlessly, grinding against you with more confidence now. “Mission accomplished.”

You were already breathless. Chest rising fast. Mark had you under him now—your crop top pushed all the way up, your hands in his hair, your legs tangled around his waist. He had his mouth on your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. His hands were everywhere but not quite there.

Until he glanced up at your chest.

At them.

His pupils blew wide again. Tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I—?” he rasped, already leaning down.

You nodded, dizzy. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He sucked one into his mouth, slowly and reverently, lips parting just enough to slide over the piercing. You weren’t ready for how good it felt—the soft pull, the cool jewelry against his tongue, the wet warmth of his mouth sucking gently and carefully, like he’d been dreaming of this exact moment.

You moaned.

Loud.

Too loud.

The kind of sound that echoed off the walls and made Mark freeze, mouth still latched to your chest, eyes flicking up with sheer awe and panic all at once.

“Holy shit,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re gonna get us evicted.”

You didn’t care. You grabbed his hair and arched into him, gasping, “Don’t stop, oh my God, Mark—”

And he didn’t. He sucked harder.

One hand braced under your back while the other cupped your opposite breast, thumb gently rolling over the other piercing. His mouth was perfect—tongue flicking just enough to make you keen and rock your hips up against him in desperation.

Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your moans only got louder. Messier.

He popped off your chest for a second just to look at you—wrecked and trembling and desperate for more.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, voice wrecked and ragged, before ducking down to suck again, even slower, deeper, watching your eyes roll back like he’d just hit the jackpot.

You were trembling under him now, mouth falling open with each breathy, filthy sound you couldn’t stop making.

And when he dragged his teeth gently—not hard, just enough for pressure—you screamed.

Mark choked. “Baby,” he laughed, pulling back, flushed and amazed and terrified. “We’re gonna get a noise complaint.”

You pulled him back down by the collar of his shirt, already panting against his mouth. “Then make it worth it.”

His mouth was still wet from your skin. He’d just popped off your nipple, flushed and overwhelmed, trying to play it cool—but the second you tugged him back down by the collar and whispered “Then make it worth it”…

Something snapped.

He kissed you hard, teeth clicking, tongue already in your mouth. No hesitation. Just want. Raw and deep. His hips rutted against yours like his body had stopped asking for permission. You were already grinding up to meet him, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist.

Clothes were gone in a blur. His shirt discarded behind him. Your top yanked off, finally exposing the piercings completely—and God, the way his hands trembled as he looked at you, like you were too much and still not enough.

“Can I fuck you?” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “Please—baby, I need to.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Now. Right now.”

He was already reaching between you, fumbling with his boxers, swearing under his breath until he got them low enough to free his cock—hard, flushed, leaking.

You were soaked.

Mark lined up, and when he finally pushed in, the both of you groaned, your head falling back against the pillow.

He buried himself to the hilt, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. His hands braced on either side of your head, but his eyes?

Locked on your chest.

On the way your piercings moved with every bounce of your breasts. On the faint shine of the barbell as you clenched around him and moaned again, high and filthy.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You feel—fuck, baby—”

He thrust again. Harder. Your hands clawed at his back, dragging him closer, urging him deeper.

“You keep looking,” you whispered, smirking between gasps. “You wanna suck them again while you fuck me?”

Mark whimpered.

“God yes—fuck yes—”

He bent down and took one into his mouth again while still thrusting, rolling his hips against yours in a rhythm that made your brain short-circuit. His tongue circled the piercing while his cock dragged in and out of you—deep, steady, perfect.

Your moan tore out like a scream.

Mark cursed against your skin, mouth never leaving your nipple, like he couldn’t bear to stop. His other hand slid up to cup the opposite breast, thumb stroking the other piercing while his hips snapped faster.

You were close. He knew it.

And he didn’t stop. Not once.

“Scream for me,” he begged, voice wrecked. “Come on, baby—be loud—don’t hold back—”

And when he bit gently—just the faintest graze of teeth on metal—you shattered.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Back arched, thighs trembling, a broken cry escaping your throat that probably did alert the whole building. You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

Mark nearly came just from watching you.

But he held on—barely—until you opened your eyes, dazed and glowing, and whispered, “Come inside me, Mark.”

He broke.

A ragged sound tore from his throat as he thrust deep once, twice more—and then he was spilling into you, hips jerking, forehead pressed to your shoulder, a mix of curses and your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You stayed tangled like that—sweaty, breathless, bodies molded together.

The room was hot and quiet. The kind of quiet that settles only after something loud—the kind that wraps around both of you like a warm blanket, heavy and safe.

Mark was still half on top of you, his cheek pressed to your shoulder, one arm wrapped tight around your waist like you’d disappear if he let go.

You ran your fingers through his damp hair, slow and soothing, until he let out a quiet, boneless sigh. His body was still buzzing, still trembling a little—not from exertion, but from emotion.

From how close he’d just felt to you. From how much it meant.

“Hey,” you whispered. “Still breathing?”

He made a weak noise that might’ve been a laugh. Or a groan. “Barely.”

You smiled, turning your head just enough to kiss his temple. “Too good?”

He pulled back to look at you, face flushed, lips swollen, eyes soft in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse. “Too everything.”

Then he glanced down between your bodies—and froze.

“Wait—hold on—are you okay?” he asked suddenly, sitting up just enough to look at your chest. “Did I… I wasn’t too rough? Are they okay?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. But then your heart melted.

“They’re fine,” you murmured, brushing his cheek. “Still shiny. Still attached.”

But he was already moving—carefully, gently—leaning down to kiss the skin around one piercing, then the other. Reverent. Tender. His hand ghosted over your ribcage, fingers so soft it made you shiver.

“You’d tell me if they hurt, right?”

You nodded. “Of course I would.”

He exhaled shakily. “Okay. Good.”

And then he lay down beside you again, pulling the blanket up over both of you, pulling you tight against his chest like he wanted to shield you from everything.

His thumb traced circles over your hip.

“You know I didn’t just like them because they’re hot, right?” he murmured, almost shy. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your throat tightened.

“I know,” you whispered. “But… hearing you say it still makes me melt.”

Mark smiled, soft and sleepy and in love.

You cuddled closer, cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat was slow now, steady under your palm.

A few minutes passed before he spoke again—barely above a whisper.

“You make me feel like I’m home.”

You turned your face into his skin, hiding your expression, suddenly too full of warmth to speak.

He rubbed your back.

“You’re so loud, by the way,” he added playfully. “Like, I think I blacked out somewhere around your second moan.”

You snorted. “You’re welcome.”

He grinned. “No complaints. Just… maybe next time we tape a sign to the door?”

You laughed, curling into him, kissed-out and safe and so loved.

“You still thinking about dying if I get anything else pierced?” you murmured against his collarbone.

Mark groaned dramatically. “I swear to God, if you come home with a tongue piercing, I will ascend to another plane of existence.”

“Promise?”

He cracked up, kissed the top of your head, and held you tighter. “God help me,” he whispered. “I’m so gone for you.”

#mark grayson x reader #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson smut #smut

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piastrisun · 3 days ago

Text

what’s a soft launch?

pairings: franco colapinto + actress female reader.

summary: childhood friends, slowburn or… maybe just an slowburn for everyone else except for you two.

faceclaim: lucia ferrato.⠀warning: none.

notes: somehow a bonus part from my one shot ‘the grand reveal’. i had a lot of fun making this. also, in honour of franco’s first race of the year!!

2021.

liked by username, yourbrother and others

francolapinto happy birthday to the only person who could annoy me this much and still be my favourite. sos insoportable, pero te amo igual

⠀—⠀ you’re insufferable and i love you anyway

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username2 every post is a confession and they just pretend it’s jokes

yourusername you love my chaos. admit it ‼️

francolapinto vos sos mi caos

⠀—⠀ you’re my chaos

yourusername re cursi, boludo. but thanks. i love you more than i hate mornings ♥︎ liked by author

username3 this is better than any romcom

username4 “my favourite” has me in actual tears

username5 if my best friend doesn’t post like this on my birthday i’m deleting them

username6 the way she looks at him 😭😭😭

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

2022.

liked by francolapinto, username and others

yourusername happy bday to the kid who made everything louder. you never shut up and i’d pick you every time. sos todo lo que está bien, te amo

⠀—⠀you’re everything that’s right in the world, i love you

tagged francolapinto

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yourusername i took that picture yesterday btw

username4 LMAOOOO this is killing me 😭😭

francolapinto you forgot ‘you’re ridiculously good looking’ but ok

yourusername cállate ❤️

francolapinto sos terrible te amo ♥︎ liked by author

⠀—⠀ you’re terrible i love you

username they’ve been married since 2013 i swear

username2 BABY FRANCO 🥹🥹

username3 girl just confess ur love we’re tired

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

2023.

liked by yourusername, username and others

francolapinto she did the thing. i did the crying. i regret nothing!! qué suerte la mía to estar cerca de tu luz, mi estrella de cine

⠀—⠀so lucky to be near your light, my movie star

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username why are they more romantic than actual couples

yourusername you said you had something in your eye

francolapinto lágrimas, boluda

⠀—⠀ tears, you idiot

username2 ‘qué suerte la mía’ shut UPPP i’m sobbing

yourmother ❤️❤️

francolapinto la extraño

yourmother Te extrañamos todos, Franquito!!!

username3 this is so cute 🥹

username4 he’s so in love it hurts. MY chest hurts

username5 they’re friends wtf

username4 TO YOU 🫵🫵🫵

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

francolapinto and yourusername added their stories!

replies to your story:

gabrielbortoleto_ you’re gonna make people talk

yourusername maybe they’ll finally tell him to wear another hoodie

username9 ‘mi bb’ i’m on the floor

username8 this is worse than a kiss on the lips istg

username7 my personal romcom

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by stormreid, username and others

yourusername his view vs my view??? (i win)

tagged francolapinto

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username this is a hard launch in my mind

sydney_sweeney most beautiful girl

username2 … and he’s there

username3 “my view” so casually. like that’s not her man??? okay

francolapinto IT WAS THE JET LAG

yourusername LIARRRRRR

francolapinto slander!!! i look peaceful

yourusername feo más bien

⠀—⠀ more like ugly

username4 you’re the most gorgeous woman ever hello

username5 when you go to a pretty best friends competition but franco and yn are already there

yourusername yn AND franco

username5 you’re right sorry 😔 ♥︎ liked by author

username6 ‘i win’ as in you look more pretty or as in you win by having him as your view

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

READ ONE SHOT HERE.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by lukebrowningracing, username and others

francolapinto we didn’t keep it a secret this long for nothing. but now you know, she has a ring to prove it!! yn, siempre he sido tuyo. te amo

⠀—⠀ i was always yours. i love you.

tagged yourusername

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username screaming crying throwing up sobbing violently shaking

username2 I KNEW IT I WAS RIGHT

username3 we all knew it you’re NAWT special

francolapinto yeah true

username4 HOW LONG WERE YOU GOING TO KEEP THIS FROM US?!!

yourusername thank you for being my best friend first!! te elijo a vos siempre <3

⠀—⠀ i chose you forever

francolapinto mi persona 🤍

username he always calls her that i can’t take it anymore 😭😭😭

username7 going for engagement reveal instead of dating reveal first is CRAZY

f1 young love 💙

username8 why am i still freaking out about this 😭

username9 the REAL twist is that they were basically dating this whole time, and no one noticed

lando congrats mate! ♥︎ liked by author

username0 just fell at my knees again

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: FRANCO COLAPINTO.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: smau #f1 x reader #franco colapinto x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto fic #franco colapinto smau

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rosiebbydoll · 2 days ago

Text

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader - Chp. 5

Chp. 4 - Chp. 5 - Chp. 6

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies(ish) to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, slow burn, fluff, smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, manga spoilers? (more tags will be added)

wc: 10.3 k (a lot happens)

chp warning: fluff, tension, angst, crack, toxic traits, mentions of violence, the kids being cute, LOTS OF TENSION

a/n: buckle up! we have a lot to un pack this chapter! enjoy! <3

It’s been two days since you asked Sukuna to go to dinner with Hiromi and his girlfriend. Two whole days since those ridiculous words slipped out of your mouth. Since you basically invited him on a date, even if it’s so totally not a date. But you asked, and he said yes.

On one hand, you’re relieved. Sukuna’s actually been really nice, surprisingly easy to be around. He’s been making jokes, texting you about random stuff, and generally being a pretty great “friend”—his own words, not yours, though it rings in your ears every time you remember it. You keep telling yourself it’ll be fun to hang out, to get to know him, to have backup at dinner with Hiromi and his perfect, intimidating girlfriend.

On the other hand, you’re freaking out. You’ve been denying this crush for a while now, stuffing it down every time it bubbles up. It’s so obvious, but you’re still pretending it doesn’t exist. Sukuna’s not the kind of guy you fall for. He probably has a girlfriend anyway. At least, you think he does? You haven’t really heard him doing anything through the walls in a while.

To make matters worse, it’s also been two days since Toji has said a single word to you. Not a call, not a text, nothing. Usually, you spend every other Sunday together. Sometimes you guys would just watch TV or make dinner with the kids. This week, nothing. Monday came and went and you figured maybe he’d text you first, but he didn’t. You didn’t even catch a glimpse of him around the complex.

Now, you’re just getting pissed. The anger simmers under everything you do, snapping at your nerves. If he’s actually mad about Sukuna, it’s ridiculous. Dumb as fuck, actually. Toji has no right to be mad at you for talking to your neighbor, for having your own life. You spend a lot of time with Sukuna now, sure, but Toji is a grown man. He could at least act like it and talk to you.

But this is different. This isn’t like your usual fights, the ones that blow over after a few hours or a night of sulking. You can always count on Toji to come around, to grumble an apology or make some half-assed joke that tells you it’s okay. But now it’s been more than 48 hours. This silent treatment is new, and it’s eating at you.

You find yourself replaying every conversation, every look, every tiny moment from the past week, trying to figure out when things shifted. The longer it drags on, the more unsettled you feel—like the ground under your feet is a little less stable than it used to be.

You’ve been working all day, fueled by a simmering anger toward Toji that somehow pushes you to get more done than usual. Every task you check off the list eases the stress a tiny bit. And you made sure to talk to Ino, because if you didn’t, he’d probably have exploded by now.

“So now it’s Toji? What the hell is up with the men in your life?” Ino teases, sliding a fresh cup of coffee across the table to you with a grin.

You snatch it up and take a grateful sip. “I sure know how to pick ’em, huh? But I don’t get why he’s just ignoring me. Look at this.” You hold up your phone, revealing the fifty-plus unread messages sitting there.

Ino leans in, eyebrows raised. “You think he’s got his read receipts turned off?”

You chuckle softly. “Doubt it. The guy took forever just to figure out emojis and reactions. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t even heard of read receipts.” You sigh and rest your head on your folded arms, feeling the weight of it all settle in your bones.

Ino’s face softens, and he reaches over to pat your head. “He’s probably just worried. Doesn’t want your new boy toy to hurt you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes blazing. “Not my boy toy,” you growl.

Ino bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Not boy toy. Friend. The friend you talk about nonstop.”

You roll your eyes but stand up, gulping down the last of your coffee. “Get back to work,” you tell him, trying to sound annoyed but not really mad.

He just laughs again, settling back into his chair to sip his coffee like he owns the place.

You shake your head and head back to your desk, the tension still simmering but somehow lighter from the brief distraction. The workday is finally winding down. You’ve spent the afternoon training some new staff, but you make sure Ino takes the lead on showing them how to close properly. He’s a natural at that kind of thing— bossy, confident, and just chaotic enough to keep things interesting.

You gather your tote, planner, and the basket of books you’ve collected for the kids and head toward the door. It’s just shy of three o’clock, and you’ve got to pick up Nobara before the afternoon melts away completely.

“Bye, Ino! See you tomorrow!” you call quietly as you step out.

He gives you a thumbs-up without missing a beat, pretending to know exactly what he’s doing with the new hires who are watching him like a hawk.

You breeze out the door and head straight for your car. It starts on the first try, and you smile a bit too hard, thinking of a certain someone who fixed it. You pull out of the parking lot and merge into the steady flow of traffic. The streets are busy but not overwhelming, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow.

As you drive, your mind drifts to Nobara— imagining her little face lighting up when you pick her up, how she’ll probably chatter nonstop about her day, about Megumi, and the adventures they’ve had. You glance at the basket of books on the passenger seat, knowing it’s probably going to be a challenge to keep her calm through the car ride home.

The school comes into view, a sprawling complex of brick buildings and playgrounds. Cars are lined up along the curb, parents pacing with tired kids, some chatting, others scrolling on their phones.

You ease your way into a parking spot near the entrance, kill the engine, and let the quiet settle over you for a moment. Time to switch gears from work mode to mom mode and face whatever the afternoon has in store. You step into the school hallway, offering warm smiles to parents gathering their kids. The buzz of laughter and chatter fills the air, a blissful soundtrack to the end of the day.

At the far end of the hall, you spot Kento— surrounded by a small crowd of mothers fluttering their lashes and trying their best to flirt. He stands like an unshakable fortress, politely but firmly brushing off their flirtations. His cool, unbothered demeanor only makes him more magnetic.

He’s so freaking loyal and perfect.

You approach slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey, Kento!” You glance over to see Nobara and Yuji absorbed in the toy kitchen, the clatter of plastic pots and pans filling the space. Megumi is nowhere in sight.

Kento turns toward you, a soft smile brightening his face. “Hey, pretty lady. I’ve got something for you.” He pulls an envelope from his desk and hands it over.

You peel it open to find a wedding invitation inside. Your eyes sparkle with happiness as you give him a quick side hug. “Ahh! I’m so excited for you guys! I can’t wait!”

Kento’s cheeks flush slightly. “She told me to make sure I hand-delivered the invitation to you.”

You tuck the invitation carefully into your tote. “You better be careful, or I’ll snatch her up from you,” you tease.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Let me go get Nobara.”

You raise a hand to stop him before he moves. “Hey, did Toji already pick up Megumi?”

Kento hesitates, knowing technically he's not allowed to say, but it’s you and Toji so he’ll budge this time. He shrugs and exhales. “Yeah, Fushiguro picked him up early today. I didn’t ask any questions.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod softly. “Oh, uh, okay. Thanks, Kento.” You watch him walk toward Nobara, whose eyes light up the moment she spots you standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, a presence looms behind you. “Hey, baby.” Sukuna’s warm breath brushes your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You jump, startled.

“Jesus, Sukuna! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you frown, trying to sound annoyed.

He laughs, low and teasing, as Kento approaches with Nobara and Yuji trailing behind.

“Hi, Mommy! Hi, Uncle Sukuna!” Nobara beams brightly.

You raise a brow at her calling him “uncle.”

“How’s my girl?” you ask, bending to hug her. She immediately launches into showing off the several art projects she’s proudly completed.

“Hi, Yuji!” you say, waving to him.

Yuji toddles up, yawning softly, and gives you a soft wave back, still looking very sleepy.

Kento leans close and mutters to Sukuna, “He didn’t take a full nap today.”

Sukuna sighs, bending down to ruffle Yuji’s hair. “Come on, brat. We’ve gotta go get Choso.” Yuji nods eagerly and gives you a quick hug before following Sukuna.

Nobara and Yuji clasp hands as they walk down the hall, and you wave goodbye to Kento, who stays behind talking with Sukuna.

You give them both a confused look. It’s weird to see those two conversing with one another. Sukuna seems like the kind of guy Kento would hate. But Kento loves Yuji, and so does Sukuna.

Maybe that’s how they get along.

Sukuna catches your expression and grins devilishly. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You frown, and Kento’s eyes widen in surprise. “Did he just call you ‘baby’?”

“Yes, ignore him-” you begin, but Sukuna cuts you off with a smirk.

“Yeah, she’s taking me out on a date this Friday.”

His smirk is lethal, and you fight hard to keep your face neutral.

“That is not what’s happening,” you say sternly.

Kento raises a brow skeptically while Sukuna laughs softly.

“Whatever. Bye, Kento,” you say with an eye roll, picking up your pace toward the kids.

Behind you, Sukuna and Kento’s laughter echoes down the hall, but you hold your head high as you leave the school, heart pounding faster than you’d like to admit.

Sukuna catches up behind you easily, his long strides matching your own as you both head toward the parking lot. You notice his car is parked right next to yours—which was not subtle at all.

The late afternoon light casts long shadows across the pavement, and the air is heavy with a silence that’s anything but comfortable.The kids trail between you two, their chatter replaced by quiet glances at the ground, fingers entwined as they swing their hands back and forth.

Sukuna’s gaze flicks over to you, his usual smirk softened by something more serious. “Hey,” he says quietly, falling into step beside you. “You okay?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek before nodding. “Yeah... just tired, I guess.”

He doesn’t press, but you can tell he’s not fully convinced. The silence stretches between you like a fragile thread, taut and ready to snap. After a moment, you force yourself to shift the focus, hoping to break the tension before it suffocates you both.

“Have you talked to Toji lately?” Your voice sounds smaller than you intend, brittle with the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Sukuna’s eyes darken for a fraction of a second, a shadow flickering across his face. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair as if trying to smooth out the knots inside. “Not since I drove him over to pick up his car Sunday.”

You glance sideways at him, heart tightening. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. “Did he… uh, say anything to you?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing just a bit. “Like what?” His tone is flat, but you catch the edge beneath it. Even if Toji had said something, Sukuna wouldn’t tell you. He knows it would only make you more upset. Toji should be open and honest with you.

You mutter a quick, “I don’t know,” and turn to buckle Nobara into her car seat. Sukuna’s brow furrows, but he moves quickly, strapping Yuji into his own car. When he shuts the door and turns back to you, his gaze lingers, sharp and searching.

He can see the tight line of your mouth, the way you’re holding everything inside like it might spill out and drown you if you let go. He wishes, with a fierce, sudden ache, that he could pull you into a hug and let you unravel all the frustration, the confusion, and the ache you’re stuffing down.

You let out a heavy sigh, fists clenching at your sides as the tension coils tighter in your chest. “I just wish he’d talk to me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Sukuna’s voice drops, low and almost a murmur, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “Sometimes it’s not about what you did. Sometimes people just shut down.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your chest tightening until it feels like your ribs will cave in. “Yeah... I just hope it’s not permanent.”

He glances at you, something soft and rare flickering in his eyes, his vulnerability laid bare. “Hey, whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

For a moment, the world narrows to that fragile promise, hanging between you like a lifeline in the dark. Your chest tightens so much you feel like you want to cry.

You take a deep breath and force a smile. “Thanks, Sukuna. With all this sucking up, I might just have to take you on an actual date one of these days.” You laugh, and Sukuna chuckles, trying to distract you from his blushing.

You both quickly say your goodbyes, waving to the other kids who are still buzzing with leftover energy. You get in the car and smile at Nobora before you pull off.

As you drive, a strange sense of déjà vu settles over you. Your thoughts drift back to Sukuna—how weird it is that he’s become such a normal part of your everyday life. It feels natural, almost effortless, for him to be there as a friend. A steady presence. Another guiding light in the chaos.

You take friendships (actually, any relationship) very seriously. Time feels too short, too precious, to waste on anything less than wholehearted. So it stings all the more that the best friend you adore and cherish is shutting you out over what feels like the dumbest reasons.

Now, by some twist of fate, you’re forced to lean even more on Sukuna. It’s a lot to process. Too much, honestly.

You turn up the radio, letting the music wash over you. Nobara sings loudly in the back seat, and you smile at her sweet little voice. Another moment you don’t dare take for granted.

Sukuna slides into the driver’s seat after buckling Choso in the back and helping Yuji settle in beside him. The boys start to talk about their day, and Choso shows Yuji his Pokémon cards he traded at school. Sukuna listens to the boys’ chatter and his mind wanders, drifting inevitably to you.

He catches himself thinking about you—the way your eyes light up when you smile, the effortless way you carry yourself even when the world’s weight is dragging you down. Gorgeous and perfect in a way that makes his chest tighten. Not just your looks, but the fierce kindness you hide beneath your tough exterior. It’s maddening how much you’ve become this constant in his thoughts, a presence he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries.

He blinks, shaking off the feeling. Doesn’t mean anything. It’s just…you.

Pulling into the apartment complex parking lot, Sukuna kills the engine and steps out. Choso and Yuji stumble out behind him, rubbing their eyes, clearly ready for bed.

As Sukuna starts up the stairs, he spots Toji coming down from his apartment, hands jammed deep in his pockets, jaw clenched tight. Toji tries to avoid eye contact, but Sukuna’s not about to let him slip by.

He steps in front of Toji, blocking his path. “Hey.”

Toji freezes, then tries to brush past him, already starting to say something like “Hey, I’m kinda busy right now-”

But Sukuna holds up a hand, cutting him off. “She’s worried about you.”

Toji’s eyes flicker with surprise, a flicker of guilt. He stands there for a long moment, silent, the words sinking in deeper than Sukuna expected.

Without another word, Sukuna turns and walks away, leaving Toji standing alone on the stairs, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

It’s now been another two days since Toji last spoke to you. That’s four days with no contact. You even stopped by his office, but he wasn’t there. Whatever’s going on, he’s really making the upmost effort to avoid you, and it’s driving you insane.

By now, you’re beyond pissed. You’re fuming, actually. What the fuck is his deal? Is he jealous? Or just having a meltdown no one can explain but him? Either way, you would’ve been a nice, understanding friend, but now you’re planning the inevitable screaming match you’re going to have with him.

Nobara has been begging nonstop for Megumi to stay after school with her, but you keep making excuses, dodging the inevitable. You even considered just picking Megumi up yourself the other day, but your guilt kicked in hard. You couldn’t shake the feeling you’d be crossing a line.

Now it’s Thursday. Tomorrow’s the night—your “date.” Not a date, really, just a hangout, or whatever you want to call it to calm your nerves. But you still haven’t told Hiromi. You planned on telling him right after you asked Sukuna, but you were still in such a state of shock from your boldness. Now, the week has gone by so fast you have to tell him, or you could just show up with Sukuna?

No, that would be bad. Hiromi would pick on you the entire time.

Plus, you have to ask Hiromi to get his parents to watch Nobara. Toji is nowhere to be found, and you refuse to tell him you’re going out with Sukuna—he’d probably start a war. So, you have to bite the bullet and tell your baby daddy you’re bringing your very hot, annoying neighbor on this double date—that is so not a date.

You pull out your phone, hesitating for a second before dialing Hiromi’s number. The line rings and he picks up quickly.

“Hey, what’s up?” Hiromi’s voice is bright, but you detect a teasing edge.

You clear your throat. “Hey, so excited for tomorrow! I am going to bring someone with me.”

“Found you a little piece to bring so we can have a double date?” He hums in satisfaction.

“No! I’m bringing my neighbor…..Sukuna. I honestly didn’t want to be by myself and I kind of owe him dinner for fixing my car.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Hiromi bursts out laughing. “Wait, you’re actually bringing him?”

Your stomach drops. “Wait, do you not want him to come? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

Hiromi immediately interrupts you, “Of course I do. I’m just a little shocked. You have never listened to me the entire time we have known each other. This guy must be doing something right.”

You groan. “Hiromi, don’t start.”

He chuckles again. “When you two are married, I’ll be the first to say I told you so. And we are both excited to see you. It will be a great night, don’t stress.”

You smile despite yourself. “Alright, and can your parents please watch Nobara tomorrow? Toji’s busy.”

Hiromi’s tone softens. “Yes, I will text my mother right now. They will be more than happy to.”

You breathe out, relieved. “Thanks, Hiromi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He laughs. “See you tomorrow.”

You hang up the phone and let out a deep breath, the weight of the conversation settling around you. Well, that’s one thing down. You tuck the phone away, a small flicker of relief mingling with the nerves still buzzing through your veins.

Nobara had Art Club until five again, and she somehow convinced Yuji to join. Without even bringing it up, Sukuna had offered to pick them both up, and you’d gratefully accepted.

Sukuna pulls up to the apartment complex with Nobara and Yuji buzzing quietly in the backseat. The sun is slipping low now, casting long shadows across the parking lot, but the warmth of the day still lingers in the air. Nobara’s fingers fidget with the straps of her bag, her latest art projects safely tucked inside, while Yuji watches the passing cars with wide-eyed curiosity.

Sukuna kills the engine and steps out, opening the back door with practiced ease. Nobara practically leaps out, chattering about the art club and how Yuji was surprisingly good at drawing. Yuji follows more cautiously, still clutching his crayon stained notebook as if it’s his most prized possession.

You’re standing just inside your apartment door when you hear the familiar thud of the car door closing. Turning, you see Sukuna approaching with the kids—his relaxed confidence somehow grounding even the chaotic energy of Nobara and Yuji.

“Hey,” he says quietly, nodding at you with that faint smirk you’ve come to recognize.

Nobara rushes forward, practically throwing herself at you. “Mommy! Guess what I made today!” You listen to her yap as you carry her inside the apartment.

Yuji tugs at your sleeve, shy but eager to show off his drawings.

Sukuna stands back, watching the exchange with a softness that’s easy to miss if you’re not paying attention.

“Where’s Choso?” you ask as you set down a plate of snacks on the low coffee table—an assortment of cut up fruit, cheese cubes, and Nobara’s favorite animal shaped crackers, all carefully arranged on a colorful tray.

The kids bolt off, giggling and yapping, disappearing into Nobara’s bedroom like a little storm of energy.

Sukuna stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the chaos with a faint smile. “The old man picked him up right at three, took him to get a haircut and some food.”

You nod, then notice Sukuna lingering, still standing just inside the door. You raise an eyebrow and grin, “Hey, you know you can come inside, right?”

He pauses, then smirks. “Oh? Drunky’s letting me in her house.” His laugh is low and amused, and you roll your eyes at his theatrics.

“Actually, scratch that. No Sukunas allowed. New rule.” You say in a mock-serious tone, and you both burst out laughing.

He raises his hands in playful surrender and steps inside, the moment awkward for a beat before he smoothly settles onto your couch like it’s his usual spot.

“You can have some snacks! Just don’t eat them all,” you holler as you change out of your work clothes and slip into some sweats and a baggy off-the-shoulder graphic tee.

You walk over to Sukuna, who is munching away on some cheese and crackers, and wittily take the plate away from him so you can have some fruit. Sukuna frowns as you take the plate away but almost watches you too intensely as you eat that strawberry.

“So, what should I wear tomorrow?” he asks, picking at the skin around his nails.

You plop down on the floor in front of him, smiling. “Honestly? I don’t even know what I’m wearing yet.”

Your eyes meet, and the tension breaks with a giggle. “Maybe skip the work clothes,” you joke, nodding toward his grease-streaked shirt. “You’re going to get my couch dirty.”

Sukuna throws his head back and laughs, sinking comfortably into the cushions.

“My poor couch.” You frown and toss a pillow at him.

He just smiles, and for a moment, you find yourself locked in his gaze. Just then, Nobara and Yuji burst back into the room. “Mommy! Uncle Sukuna!” they shout, rushing over and jumping onto your lap.

Nobara’s landing is light and quick, but Yuji’s enthusiastic hug nearly knocks the wind out of Sukuna.

Sukuna groans theatrically, clutching his ribs as laughter bubbles from all of you. Before you can catch your breath, he grabs a pillow and throws it right at you.

The pillow hits your side with a soft thud, and you immediately retaliate, grabbing the nearest cushion and smacking Sukuna across the face. His surprised laugh turns into a grin as he lunges forward and pushes you onto the couch.

Nobara squeals with delight, ducking behind the couch, while Yuji shrieks and dives at Sukuna’s legs. The living room erupts into a whirlwind of laughter and pillows being thrown in every direction.

You duck as a pillow sails toward your head, narrowly avoiding the blow, and fire back with a well aimed toss. Sukuna catches it midair, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re going down, Drunky,” he teases, voice low and playful.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” you grin, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

He nods, eyes locked on yours. “Absolutely.”

The kids cheer from their hiding spots, egging you both on. For a moment, everything else falls away—no worries, no unspoken words, just the pure, chaotic joy of the moment.

Pillows fly faster, laughter gets louder, and you find yourself drenched in the warmth of this strange, unexpected family you’re building.

After a few more rounds of pillow tossing and laughter, the fight starts to lose steam. Nobara collapses onto the couch, breathless but grinning ear to ear, while Yuji flops down beside her, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. You sink onto the floor, catching your breath and wiping the sweaty hair stuck to your face.

Sukuna sits back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watches the kids settle down. Then, his expression shifts-sharp and focused. He glances at his watch and suddenly sits upright.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I need to get Yuji back to the apartment before the old man drops Choso off.”

You nod, already standing and gathering the scattered pillows. “Yeah, I need to make dinner and give Nobara a bath.” Nobara and Yuji pout as they realize they have to leave each other.

Sukuna stands, brushing off his pants and moving toward the door. “C’mon, Yuji.”

You smile tiredly and watch Yuji run to the door while Nobara leans up against you.

“Night, you guys! Tell Choso we said hi!” you and Nobara wave.

He looks back at you, eyes softening for a moment, with Yuji holding his hand. “Night.”

The kids wave goodbye as Sukuna leads Yuji out the door, the quiet settling back into the apartment once more. You take a deep breath, already counting down the hours until tomorrow’s “date”—whatever that might really mean.

“Is Uncle Sukuna your girlfriend?” Nobara asks suddenly, and your eyes widen in surprise before your mouth bursts open with a laugh.

“Sukuna is a boy, Nobara. And he’s not your uncle,” you say gently, watching her nibble on her snacks spread across the coffee table.

She raises a brow, considering your words, then nods slowly. “So he’s your boyfriend. ’Cause Daddy has a girlfriend, and they smile at each other just like you guys do.” She hums thoughtfully, shoving another piece of cheese into her mouth.

Your eyes widen again as she climbs up onto the couch beside you. “And Yuji and Choso call him uncle, so why can’t I? I call Toji uncle.” You can’t really argue with that logic-especially coming from a five-year-old.

You roll your eyes and stand up from the couch. “He’s not my boyfriend, baby. He’s just Mommy’s friend. Like Uncle Toji.”

Nobara nods solemnly, then walks over to you with a bright smile. “Can we go see him and Megumi?”

“We can soon, baby. They’re just busy right now.” Your gut twists at the thought of Toji, and you wonder when the silence between you will finally break. You’ve given up calling or texting. It’s just not worth the heartbreak anymore.

Changing the subject quickly, you pull over Nobara’s little kitchen stool and pat it. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

Her eyes light up, gleaming with excitement as she nods vigorously.

“I was thinking ramen sounds good,” you say, heading to the kitchen to gather ingredients and ramen packets.

“Yummy!” Nobara chirps happily, following you eagerly.

Together, you start preparing the meal-boiling water, adding noodles, chopping green onions, and stirring in broth packets. Nobara tries to imitate your every move, her small hands carefully helping where she can, occasionally stealing a noodle to giggle about.

You and Nobara settle at the small kitchen table, steam rising from the bowls of ramen warming your hands. She slurps enthusiastically, noodles hanging comically from her lips as she giggles every time you pretend to scold her.

Between bites, she chatters about her day—how she showed Yuji a new art trick, how Megumi was funny, and how she wants to draw a picture for you. You smile softly, heart swelling at her innocence and energy.

But beneath the surface, your thoughts keep circling back to Toji and Sukuna. The silence with Toji weighs heavy on you, like a knot tightening in your chest. You wonder when—or if—that wall will come down. And then there’s Sukuna, whose presence both comforts and confuses you.

You watch Nobara’s bright eyes, her carefree laughter, and remind yourself to hold onto this moment, this small pocket of peace. Tomorrow’s “date” looms ahead, and with it, a whirlpool of emotions you’re not quite ready to face.

For now, though, there’s just warmth, noodles, and the soft happiness that only comes from being here, now, with her.

After dinner, you gather the bowls and stack them in the sink, the warmth of the meal still lingering in the cozy kitchen. Nobara bounces on her toes, her energy barely contained, but you know it’s time to wind down.

“All right, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, taking her hand gently.

She giggles, skipping ahead as you lead her to the bathroom. You run the bath, adding a generous splash of sleepy time bubble bath. The scent fills the small space, wrapping around you both like a soft hug.

Nobara climbs in, splashing happily as you help wash away the day’s dirt and crayon marks. She hums a little tune, the bubbles tickling her skin and her eyes growing heavy.

“You’re gonna stay with Nana and Papa tomorrow, okay?” you tell her as you scrub her body.

She nods her head and continues to try and count every single bubble. “’Kay, Mommy.”

You rinse her hair carefully, avoiding the tears and the protests, and wrap her in a fluffy towel, rubbing her dry with slow, soothing strokes.

In her pajamas, Nobara curls up in your arms. You carry her back to her room, tucking her in under soft blankets. She looks up at you with sleepy eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Mommy, I love you,” she murmurs.

You kiss her forehead, heart swelling. “I love you too, baby. Sleep tight.”

As she drifts off, you sit beside her bed for a moment longer, watching her chest rise and fall with steady breaths.

Over on the other side of the walls, Sukuna is struggling to get the boys to bed.

Choso arrived home with Wasuke just as Yuji and the others were stepping through the door. Wasuke, always thoughtful, brought takeout, which everyone devoured in record time-no leftovers in sight.

After their grandpa left, the boys begged for some time on the Wii. They begged to play Just Dance, and the apartment quickly filled with laughter, shouts, and the sound of plastic controllers clacking against each other.

Somehow, instead of winding down, Yuji and Choso found a second wind. Within minutes, they were running wild around the apartment, shrieking with laughter—completely butt ass naked. Clothes lay abandoned in the hallway, a trail of shirts and socks marking their path.

Sukuna scowled as he watched Yuji and Choso chase each other around the living room, their laughter echoing off the walls. The takeout containers were already empty, stacked haphazardly on the coffee table. He’d barely finished cleaning up when the boys—now stripped down and shrieking—dashed past him.

“If you break something, you’re cleaning it up,” he warned, voice low and even. They ignored him, of course. “And put some damn clothes on!”

Sukuna prided himself on his patience with the boys. Sure, he could be a bit of an ass sometimes, but he usually kept his cool. Right now, though? He was one minor disaster away from losing it.

With a deep breath, Sukuna finally rounded them up, grabbing Yuji first and then Choso, who squirmed and giggled like little eels slipping through his fingers. He herded them toward the bathroom, his voice firm but calm. “Bath time, now. No more running.”

The boys protested briefly, but the promise of warm water and their favorite dinosaur bath toys softened their resistance. Sukuna filled the tub with comfortably warm water, just right to soothe and relax them after the chaos. He helped them climb in and let them tire themselves out in the tub.

The bath was short but effective, just enough to wash away the day’s dirt and burn off the last of their energy. When the bath was over, he wrapped them in fluffy towels and guided them to their beds. Yuji’s eyelids drooped, and Choso snuggled close, finally still.

Sukuna exhaled, a tired smile tugging at his lips. The apartment was finally quiet, the chaos of the day fading into silence.

He headed for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the exhaustion from a long day spent juggling work and wrangling the boys. After drying off, he slipped into a clean pair of boxers, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little.

He hadn’t checked his phone all day—too busy, too distracted. Now, as he picked it up, the screen lit up with a barrage of notifications. Most were from Yarozu. Her persistence was almost impressive. He’d thought ignoring her would be enough to send the message he was done fucking around, but clearly, she didn’t get the hint.

Rolling his eyes, he left her on read and scrolled until your name appeared. The sight of it made him pause, a small smirk crossing his face. He typed out a quick message: “See ya tomorrow for our date, Drunky.”

Satisfied, he locked his phone and set it aside. The annoyance he once felt over how much you occupied his thoughts had faded; now, thinking of you was oddly calming as he drifted off to sleep.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the screen. “Asshole,” the contact read, making you smile despite yourself. You typed back, “Not a date,” and set your phone down, the warmth of his message lingering as you slowly nodded off too.

Now it’s Friday morning. The day of the date—or whatever the fuck we are calling it—has finally arrived. Hiromi sent you a cheerful good morning message, telling you how excited he is for tonight. You lied and replied that you’re excited too, but in reality, your stomach is doing somersaults as you drive Nobara to school.

As you walk her inside, you spot Toji. He’s never here before you. That son of a bitch. You can’t help but frown as you keep walking. Nobara, however, doesn’t hesitate. She darts over to him immediately.

“Uncle Toji!” she cries, running straight into his arms. Of course, he picks her up and gives her a big hug.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he says warmly. Nobara wriggles out of his arms and rushes toward the classroom to find Megumi, but then she suddenly stops, realizing she forgot something important.

“Bye, Mommy!” she calls, waving as you’re already halfway down the hall. You smile and blow her a kiss.

You pause for a moment, watching her disappear into the room, then glance over at Toji and Kento. You give a quick, polite nod to the blond, but you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge your so-called best friend.

You turn on your heel and march out, your mind racing with all the things you’d planned to say if you saw him again. You were ready to tear into him, but now your heart just sinks. Maybe it’s time he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Kento lets out a low whistle and clicks his tongue. “You’re in trouble,” he murmurs.

Toji groans, “Big time.” He waves goodbye to Megumi and Nobara, then gives Nanami a nod as he heads out.

As Toji walks down the hall, he spots Sukuna with Yuji. Sukuna grins, “Oh, you’re alive? I thought you’d died since you decided to ghost me. Honestly, my heart’s a little broken,” he teases.

Toji scoffs and ignores the jab. “Hey, Yuji.”

Yuji beams. “Hi, Toji! Is Megumi here?” Toji nods, and Yuji gives Sukuna a quick hug before sprinting to the classroom.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “Ya finally going to be a big boy and talk to us?” he says, waving at Nanami before heading out with Toji.

“You still up her ass?” Toji retorts, pulling out two cigarettes-one for himself, one for Sukuna.

Sukuna pulls out his lighter and lights both, taking a deep drag. “More than ever, since you haven’t been around,” he chuckles.

A heavy silence settles between them. Toji knows he messed up. It isn’t fair to either of them. He needs to face his problems and grow the fuck up. Well, that’s exactly what his wife would have told him.

Sukuna breaks the tension with a smirk. “You’d better talk to her before she decides to marry me,” he jokes, heading toward his Mustang.

Toji just nods, watching the gravel shift beneath his feet as he slowly trudges to his Camaro, feeling the weight of everything he’s left unsaid.

Sukuna pulls out of the parking lot, dread hanging over him. Toji is his friend—has been for a long time. Not as long as you, but Sukuna still considers their relationship solid. He respects Toji enough not to try anything underhanded here.

He thinks he’s been on his best behavior around you, even if you make his heart ache and his mind go blank. He’s terrified for tonight. He knows you aren’t calling it a date—he doesn’t even think of it as one—but he’s still nervous to be around you. It takes everything in him to keep up that façade.

When he arrives at his shop, his employees are already busy opening up and working on cars. Sukuna lets out a groan and heads into his office. He genuinely enjoys owning the shop, but the one thing he hates about being the owner is the endless paperwork. Most mornings, he’s stuck behind his desk, handling paperwork and answering phone calls, instead of working with his hands.

But when the paperwork is done, he gets to do what he loves: working on cars and talking to customers face-to-face. That’s when he feels most at home. As the day drags on and evening approaches, his nerves return. He can’t stop thinking about tonight.

Meanwhile, at the library, you’ve been dodging Ino all day because he won’t stop teasing you about the so-called date. He keeps asking for every little detail and just won’t let it go.

You finally find some peace at your desk, cataloging the last of the books before you leave. Ino is busy giving a tour, and the new hires are being trained at the front desk. It’s been a smooth day. You even approved an elementary school field trip for next month and sent a few emails.

As you pack up to leave, Ino waves and winks at you. You roll your eyes, wave back, and head out to your car, trying to swallow the nervousness as the evening draws closer.

You get a text from Hiromi’s mom letting you know she’s picked up Nobara, and they’re taking her to see a movie. You quickly reply, then head straight to your apartment.

As you step through the front door, you slip your tote bag off your shoulder and hang it neatly on the hook by the entryway. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Hiromi said you’d meet at 7:00 p.m., and it’s just now 4:00 now. You only have three hours to prepare. You’re determined to look and smell your absolute best for this evening, especially for this mystery woman—definitely not for anyone else

You walk into your bedroom and carefully lay out several outfit options across the bedspread, each one a possibility for the night ahead. Then, you make your way to the bathroom to begin your routine. You wash your hair thoroughly, letting the warm water relax you, then shave and exfoliate your skin until it feels smooth and refreshed. You massage oils into your skin and apply a soothing face mask, letting it work its magic while you brush and floss your teeth with meticulous care. Afterward, you check your reflection for any blemishes, quickly tending to any that you find.

Wrapped in a soft robe, a towel twisted atop your damp hair, you return to your bedroom and study the outfits you’ve arranged. Hiromi only said you were going to dinner, and you don’t want to be too overdressed. After some deliberation, you decide on a pair of light denim jeans, sleek black boots, a crisp black crew neck, and your favorite leather jacket.

For your makeup, you opt for a minimal, natural look: you brush your brows into place, dust on a bit of powder and blush for a healthy glow, and finish with a swipe of your favorite gloss. Then, you blow dry your hair making sure every piece is in place.

For accessories, you choose delicate gold earrings and the gold bracelet Nobara gave you last Mother’s Day—a sentimental touch that always makes you smile. You swap your bulky library tote for a sleek black purse, feeling the smooth leather in your hands.

Before leaving your bedroom, you make sure to slip your wallet into your purse because you promised Sukuna you’d cover dinner tonight. The clock just turned six, giving you plenty of time to get Sukuna and head to the restaurant, and Hiromi just sent you the directions.

You take one last look in the mirror and smile.

Okay, I’m ready.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp knock at the door. The sound jolts you out of your thoughts. Sukuna must be ready. Heart pounding, you grab your fanciest perfume and spritz it over your neck and wrists. You barely give yourself a second glance in the mirror before rushing to the door, not even bothering to check the peephole.

You unlock it in a hurry, swinging it open with a practiced smile, only for your face to instantly fall flat. Toji stands there, leaning against the doorframe, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, what’s got you all dressed up, pretty?” he drawls, eyes flicking over your outfit. His gaze lingers a second too long, and you scowl, tension snapping through your body like a live wire.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snap, voice low and sharp.

He shrugs, trying to look casual, but there’s something restless in his eyes. “I’m just worried about ya, pretty.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “Yeah? So you ignore my calls, refuse to let me see Megumi, and then just show up at my door like nothing happened? What the fuck is wrong with you, Toji?”

He shifts his weight, jaw tightening. “I was stuck in my head. I’ve been meaning to talk to ya. I should’ve answered, but I didn’t want to yell at ya ‘cause I was upset.”

Your anger flares hotter. “Why the hell are you even upset? What did I do? Do you even realize the things you’ve done lately? I let it go because I love you, Toji! But you-” You cut yourself off, breath shaking.

Toji sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’s not right for ya, pretty. At least, I don’t think he is.”

You glare at him, in shock. “You have no right to tell me who’s right for me, Toji. And he’s your friend, too.”

“That’s exactly why I know he ain’t right. I know how him and Yarozu are.”

You arch an eyebrow, shaking your head in disbelief. “He’s a friend, Toji. And honestly? He’s been acting like a better one than you these past few days.” You shoulder past him, your anger simmering.

Toji’s face darkens, frustration etched deep in his features. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you spit back, voice trembling with hurt. “He’s even coming with me tonight to meet Hiromi’s girlfriend.”

He scoffs, bitterness creeping in. “You’ve barely even been with anyone before, so how the fuck do you know he’s just acting like a friend?”

You freeze, fingers tightening around your purse strap. “What did you just say?”

Toji exhales, voice softer but strained. “You’ve barely been with-”

“No, I heard you,” you cut in, voice icy. “Just making sure I wasn’t imagining it.” You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm.

He bites the inside of his cheek, regret flickering in his eyes. Fuck.

You open your mouth, ready to unleash another retort, but Toji interrupts.

“Look what happened with Higuruma. It was just one night and you didn’t even know him.”

Your eyes widen, the old wound reopening. “Are you serious right now?”

Toji sighs, looking away, trying to avoid your deathly glare.

“I was young, Toji. I barely knew what life was. I think I have a better grasp of things now. Sukuna and I are just friends. That’s it.”

He tries to speak, but you cut him off, voice trembling with conviction. “I’m not the same girl I was back then. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’m not a fucking kid you have to keep worrying about.”

He looks at you, pain flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t want something like that to happen again.”

“Something like what?” you demand, stepping closer, your voice cold as stone. “Me getting pregnant?”

He stands there, not knowing what to say. You see the sadness in his eyes, but you’re ignoring it.

You glare at him, every muscle in your body taut with anger. “Get out, Toji. I don’t want to look at you.”

His face goes blank, the smirk wiped away, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“Pretty-” he starts, voice barely above a whisper.

“Get the fuck out,” you repeat, voice shaking but unyielding.

He hesitates, searching your face for something—anything—but you hold his gaze, unflinching, until he finally turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, heart pounding and hands trembling.

You feel the hot sting of tears welling up, sliding down your cheeks before you can stop them. Panic rises as you rush back to the bathroom, desperately dabbing at your face, trying not to ruin the makeup you spent so long perfecting. The last thing you need is for anyone to see you like this.

Suddenly, you here another knock at the door. Annoyed, you snap, “Toji, I said leave me-”

But when you yank the door open, it’s not Toji standing there. It’s Sukuna. He leans against the frame, looking unfairly good in a worn leather jacket, black jeans, his signature boots, and a crisp white t-shirt. His hair is styled just right, and tonight, his sharp features look even more irresistible than usual.

Your eyes widen as you immediately realize who it is. “Did you just called me Toji?”Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk, but the moment he notices your tear stained face, his expression softens.

“What’s wrong, drunky?” he asks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. You close the door behind him, grateful for the excuse to hide your face for a second longer.

You wipe your eyes, glancing in the hallway mirror to check the damage. “Toji stopped by. I made him leave,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

Sukuna doesn’t buy it. He can see right through you, but he doesn’t push. Not yet.

He leans in, voice low. “Should we call your baby daddy-?”

You cut him off with a sigh. “No, I want to go. I need to meet his girlfriend. He’s always there for me, always does whatever I ask. It’s the least I can do.”

Sukuna nods, but you catch the way his eyes linger on you. Then you notice you both are literally dressed the same. “Hey, look! We’re matching,” you say, forcing a smile as you show off your jacket.

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes your heart skip. “I make it look better,” he teases, eyes glinting. He tries to hide how much he’s staring at you, how he could get lost in every detail of your face, but you catch the way his gaze lingers a little too long.

You roll your eyes and head for the door, locking it behind you. When you turn around, Sukuna is waiting, holding out two motorcycle helmets.

You groan. “We are not taking your bike.”

He just grins, ignoring your protest as he hands you a helmet. “My hair will get messed up!” you protest, but you can’t help but smile as you follow him down the hall.

Sukuna glances over his shoulder, eyes dark and playful. “You’ll still look good, even if it’s a mess,” he says, holding out a hand to help you onto the bike.

Your stomach flips, heat blooming in your cheeks. You try to play it cool, rolling your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips—or the way your heart races as his fingers brush yours.

You swing your leg over the bike, the leather of your jacket warm and familiar against your skin as Sukuna steadies the machine beneath you. The city lights blur softly in the visor’s tint, casting a golden haze over the streets as the engine rumbles to life—a deep, steady growl that vibrates through your bones.

When you finally pull up outside the restaurant, the engine’s growl fades. Sukuna helps you off the bike and secures the helmets in the bin. You take a deep, nervous breath and glance at him. “Okay, now I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Why the hell are you scared?”

You fidget with your jacket zipper, looking down for a moment. “I want to make sure she likes me. Hiromi talks about her like she’s amazing, and if she’s going to be part of my life, I want to make a good impression.”

Sukuna’s expression softens, and he mutters, “I think it’ll be hard for her not to.” You catch the quiet sincerity in his voice and can’t help but smile.

You quickly pull out your phone to check your hair from the stupid helmet you had to wear. “You look fine.” Sukuna tries to sound annoyed and you softly smile, feeling the fire forming on your cheeks.

Together, you step inside the cozy restaurant, the warm glow of amber lights and the murmur of quiet conversations wrapping around you. It’s not fancy, and you’re grateful for that. Your eyes find Hiromi, who stands and waves you over with a bright smile.

Without thinking, you reach out and grasp Sukuna’s arm, tugging him close as you make your way to the table. Hiromi greets you both with a broad, genuine smile before turning to the woman beside him. She rises with effortless grace, her serene expression and gentle eyes immediately soothing your nerves.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she says, her voice soft but sincere. “Nobara and Hiromi have told me so much about you!”

You return her warmth, though your heart is pounding. “I’m so happy to finally meet you. Hiromi’s only ever had the nicest things to say.”

But Sukuna’s presence looms at your side, impossible to ignore. You suddenly realize you need to introduce him—except, as what? The question sends a jolt of panic through you, but before you can act, Hiromi is already extending his hand to Sukuna.

“Good to see you again,” Hiromi says cheerfully, and Sukuna flashes a grin in return and nods. You can’t help but stare—kinda a bizarre moment for you. Hiromi turns to his girlfriend, gesturing toward Sukuna. “This is the neighbor friend I mentioned,” he explains, but you know his big mouth probably told her more than what he’s letting on.

Sukuna then takes Hiromi’s girlfriend’s hand. She blushes faintly as he offers a surprisingly polite, “Nice to meet you.” He literally had that effect on everyone.

As everyone settles in around the table, Sukuna and Hiromi quickly slip into conversation, their voices low but lively, punctuated by the occasional laugh. Meanwhile, Hiromi’s girlfriend turns her attention to you, drawing you into an engaging discussion about her work. She shares intriguing stories about the unique challenges of teaching, her passion evident in every word. Her warmth and genuine curiosity make it easy for you to open up, and soon the conversation flows naturally, leaving you both smiling and eager to learn more about each other.

As the server arrives with menus, everyone takes a moment to decide. Hiromi opts for a classic miso soup, while his girlfriend chooses a delicate seaweed salad and a light grilled salmon dish. You settle on a comforting bowl of udon noodles that looked too good to pass up. Sukuna, scanning the menu with a sharp eye, orders a sizzling plate of teriyaki beef. Which surprised you because you thought he’d get the most expensive item on the menu. With all the orders placed and menus set aside, the table feels even more lively, the anticipation of the meal blending seamlessly with the easy flow of conversation.

Soon, a waiter arrives, expertly balancing trays laden with beautifully presented dishes. Vibrant colors and artful arrangements catch your eye. The air is thick with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meats, fresh herbs, and subtle hints of ginger and soy that mingle invitingly above the table.

Everyone digs in, the first bites are met with appreciative murmurs. Laughter bubbles up naturally, breaking through any lingering awkwardness. Across the table, Hiromi’s girlfriend launches into a hilarious story from her latest psychology lecture. You can’t help but be drawn in by her and you honestly understand why Hiromi has fallen so hard for her.

You are pulled in by her gestures and infectious laughter. But beneath the table, something else demands your attention. Sukuna’s knee brushes against yours, just lightly at first, as if by accident. You glance at him, but his face is the picture of innocence, focused on the story.

A moment later, as the laughter around the table swells, his leg nudges yours again, firmer this time, lingering just a second longer. Your pulse quickens at the silent exchange, a secret current of energy passing between you. You try to focus on the conversation, but your heart was pumping so fast you were worried it would burst out onto the table.

Calm down.

The evening continues lin a blur of lighthearted teasing, shared memories, and easy smiles. With each passing moment, the nervous tension that once knotted your stomach dissolves, replaced by a comforting sense of belonging. Between bites and conversation, you catch Sukuna’s gaze lingering on you. He decided on that instead of nudging your leg after you gave him a death glare.

As the hours slip by, the plates are picked clean and you’re all so full, stomachs about to burst. You all have now turned to a very expensive bottle of wine you all decided to share—Hiromi’s girlfriend insisted. The sweet red liquid coats your throat and the buzz is making you feel as bubbly as ever.

“So, how did you two meet?” She asks, swirling her wine and flashing a curious grin.

Hiromi stifles a laugh, and you shoot him a quick glare. “Oh, he’s my neighbor,” you reply, unsure how much to share.

She giggles, her cheeks flushed from the wine. “That’s so cute!” Her words slur just a bit, and you can tell she’s getting tipsy.

You smile politely while Sukuna and Hiromi exchange glances, both struggling to hold back their laughter.

As you all stand to settle the bill, she suddenly pipes up, “Do you guys wanna go play some pool?”

Hiromi raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. You echo his confusion. “Pool? You mean, like, at a bar?”

She nods enthusiastically and links her arm with Hiromi’s, already heading for the door. The rest of you look at each other and shrug, amused by her spontaneous energy.

As you walk out, you start chatting with her about a book you just finished, getting animated as you describe your favorite parts. In the midst of your conversation, you realize Sukuna and Hiromi have already paid the bill. You turn, ready to protest, but Sukuna holds up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” he says flatly.

You huff, crossing your arms. “I said I would owe you,” you mutter, but he just waves you off with a smirk.

You all thank the restaurant staff and step out into the cool night air. Right across the street, neon lights flicker above a narrow doorway—a hole in the wall bar you’ve never knew was there before.

Inside, the bar is dimly lit and smells faintly of old wood and spilled beer. A couple of regulars nurse their drinks at the counter, and in the back, a battered pool table sits beneath a buzzing fluorescent light.

You and Sukuna team up against Hiromi and his girlfriend, the two of you standing side by side at the battered pool table. The bar’s dim light casts a warm glow over the felt as the balls are racked.

Sukuna cracks his knuckles with a confident grin. “Alright, rookie, watch and learn.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I know what I’m doing.” (Even though you haven’t played pool in years).

He just smirks, chalking his cue. “Whatever you say.” He lines up the break, and with a practiced stroke, sends the cue ball smashing into the rack. The balls scatter across the table, and a striped one drops cleanly into the corner pocket.

“Guess we’re solids.” Higuruma states as he claps his hands together.

Sukuna glances over, nudging you with his elbow. “See? That’s how it’s done.”

You pick up your cue, trying to mirror Sukuna’s stance, but the awareness of his eyes on you makes your hands clumsy. “Alright, coach,” you say, forcing a playful tone, “What’s the secret?”

He steps in behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands slide over yours, gentle but firm, guiding your grip. “Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “You’re holding it like you want to choke the life out of it.”

His breath fans against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The bar seems to shrink around you. His fingers linger a moment too long, his chest brushing lightly against your back as he leans in to adjust your arms.

You try to sound annoyed, but your voice comes out softer, almost breathless. “What happened to personal space?”

“Can’t help it if I’m a hands-on teacher,” he smirks.

You roll your, eyes ignoring Sukunas cocky remark as you watch the ball sink in. Sukuna gives you a proud smile and you suddenly have a burst of confidence in your pool skills.

Hiromi and his girlfriend take their turn. Hiromi moves with the easy confidence of someone who’s played before, while his girlfriend giggles, clearly a little more than tipsy now but just happy to be included.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is laser focused. You notice the way his jaw tightens every time he lines up a shot, and how his eyes narrow with determination. He hates losing and it’s obvious. It’s oddly attractive, though a little intimidating, watching him calculate each move with almost predatory precision.

The game flows with playful banter. When you suddenly miss an “easy shot”, Sukuna throws his hands up in mock despair. “Seriously? That was your shot?”

You glare at him, feigning outrage. “I’m tipsy, alright? Cut me some slack.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You can’t blame everything on the drinks.”

Hiromi chimes in, grinning. “She does that a lot.” His girlfriend giggles, not quite following, and you shoot Hiromi a look. You would flip him off if you weren’t trying to make a good impression.

When your turn comes around again, Sukuna leans in, voice low. “Aim a little left. Trust me.”

You take a breath, line up your shot, and with guided ease, the ball drops into the pocket. You spin around, grinning. “Hey, look! I did it!”

Sukuna’s eyes light up. “Told you. You’re a natural,” he says, his tone half-teasing, half-proud.

Hiromi’s girlfriend claps from across the table. “You guys are killing it!”

You flash Sukuna a playful smirk. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

He just shakes his head, pretending to be exasperated. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the game goes on, Sukuna’s skill and your growing confidence help your team pull ahead. When the final ball drops, Hiromi’s girlfriend claps her hands, her smile bright and a little wobbly. “That was so much fun! You guys are seriously good.”

Hiromi stretches, looking genuinely relaxed. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I needed this.”

You nod, feeling the warmth of the evening settle over you. “Me too. We should do this again.”

His girlfriend laughs, swaying slightly. “Next time, let’s try something I’m actually good at.”

Sukuna grins, cocky as ever. “I’m ready to win again whenever you are.”

She winks back. “We’ll see about that.”

Then she leans in for a quick hug. “Take care, okay?” You give her a hug right back and nod.

As everyone gathers their things, Hiromi pulls his girlfriend close, giving you a grateful smile. “Thanks for tonight. It was great to see you both. I’ll call and check on Nobora when we get home!”

Hiromi waves as you and Sukuna head for the door. “Alright, text me and let me know how she is!”

Outside, the night air feels even cooler after the warmth of the bar. You and Sukuna walk side by side letting the city consume you both.

“Not bad for a rookie,” Sukuna says, bumping your shoulder with a sly grin.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re just lucky I was on your team.” He laughs, and for a moment, everything feels exactly right.

As you both continue your walk, a comfortable silence settles between you. The only sounds are your footsteps echoing in sync along the sidewalk. Above, the city lights shimmer and dance, casting a glow on the streets and painting your faces with flecks of gold and silver.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You simply share the quiet, each lost in your own thoughts, yet somehow perfectly attuned to each other’s presence.

After a few moments, Sukuna clears his throat, the sound breaking the spell of silence. He glances over at you, his expression uncertain but earnest, as if searching for the right words before he finally speaks.

“Hey.”

You turn to look at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Yeah?”

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the pavement for a moment. “I’m… sorry.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side. “Sorry? For what?”

He lets out a breath, almost as if he’s been holding it in for days. “For when I first met you. I shouldn’t have said any of that bullshit. I was out of line.”

You stare at him, surprised by the unexpected apology. “Wait, what? So you do know how to say sorry!” A teasing smile tugs at your lips. “I thought you were just being nice to me because you’re the type who can’t apologize without it hurting your precious pride.” You giggle and give him a light pat on the back.

“It’s fine, Sukuna. Honestly, I got to let off some steam by yelling at you.” You flash him a genuine smile.

He stops in his tracks, momentarily breathless. His heart pounds in his chest, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you.

This is bad. So fucking bad. He’s down bad—worse than he’s ever been in his life. Nearly two months have passed, and still, you haunt his every thought. He’d told himself it was just a passing crush, something he could shake off with a few cheap distractions and a little time. But now, standing here, staring into your eyes, he realizes just how wrong he was. He’s past infatuation—he’s drowning in you, pulled under by a tide he doesn’t want to escape.

You notice he’s no longer beside you and turn, confusion flickering across your face. Before you can even ask what’s wrong, he closes the distance between you with a few quick, purposeful steps.

Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body. His presence is overwhelming, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The world seems to shrink, focusing only on the intense connection between you.

He closes the remaining space between you, every heartbeat thunderous in your ears. His hand lifts—fingers trembling slightly before they graze your cheek, brushing away a stray strand of hair. The air feels charged, your breath caught as his touch sends a shiver racing down your spine. He leans in, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, lingering there. Your pulse stutters as his lips hover, barely a breath away, the world narrowing to this single, suspended moment. All of a sudden, your phone buzzes sharply in your pocket.

You pull away, startled, fumbling for the screen. The electric connection with Sukuna snaps, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

It’s Hiromi.

“Hello?” you answer, voice tense.

His voice is tight, urgent. “Nobora’s at the ER.”

summary: ahhhh! please don’t hate me for leaving it on a cliff hanger lmao. I promise everything will be answered and hopefully Toji can start acting right soon enough🙂‍↕️

I think I have a pretty good updating schedule planned for this. i’ll usually post by the end of the week. if not, i’ll try to update you before hand. your girl has the summer off and you bet your ass I’m going to try to write as much as I possibly can before I start work again. I will also be uploading this on A03! once I get it uploaded I will update my links.

as always, please let me know how you felt about this chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. I love you all so much and I’ll see you next week for chapter six! I hope you all have the best week <3

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @777pluto @bookfreakk

@withtanxp @pandabiene5115 @fava-boi @not-aya @jkslvsnella

@saltypuffin1040 @zeppelid @miakxn @iseeyouuu @storiesbyparadise @flowerpot113 @mullermilkshake

@bestwomanalive @nessca153 @puran-poli

#jjk #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujitsu kaisen #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #sukuna fic #dividers by @enchanthings - a

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witherby · 14 hours ago

Text

The long-awaited next part is here! It's not my best work 😔 be gentle in your criticisms.

Flight of Fancy, part 4

Masterlist is Here!

"Ah, sorry —" Clark apologizes over the comms line when day breaks, "I'm actually in Russia doing search and rescue after a natural disaster. Won't be back for hours. You could try calling Lantern?"

"He's off-world right now." Damian slumps into the chair in front of the bat computer and resists the urge to rub his temples. "Thank you anyway, Superman. You can go back to what you were doing."

"Alright, stay safe!" Clark says, then cuts the connection. Damian punches a few keys and the screens of the Batcomputer go dark. He leans back in his chair and rubs his face, irritated and exhausted. After dealing with the shit show that was Jason scolding him for "tonguing" a victim — which was not his fault! You kissed him, not the other way around! — and then bullying him into coughing up more money than necessary to take his hoodie to a dry cleaner, a headache bloomed and has been steadily worsening with time and sleep deprivation.

He's been up for almost twenty-four hours, now, and called most flight-capable contacts at his and his father's disposal to no avail. Nobody is available for your extraction, and Damian can't let you, an undocumented and uncategorized meta, go off by yourself lest you either get recaptured or end up committing a villainous act without supervision.

So you're stuck in the cave for a full day, until everyone comes together for patrol in the evening to clear the rogues out the metahuman outpost and get you safely moved out of Gotham.

Damian spins in the seat and looks at where you're balled up on the floor. Or, rather, he's looking at your wings, fully extended and wrapped around you like a cocoon. He watches the puddle of feathers gently and silently rising and falling with your dozing breaths after you refused a bed and curled up like this three hours ago.

Cute, he thinks, standing up and stepping quietly around your figure. He slips his fingers underneath the domino mask to rub the grit from his eyes, then messages Alfred requesting two breakfast trays be brought to the cave whenever he has the time. They're delivered half an hour later, the quiet rattling of the butler's cart rousing you again.

"Sorry to disturb you, dear," Alfred says, watching your head poke out and you blink groggily at the food. Damian takes the trays from him with a nod of thanks. "Might either of you require anything else whilst I'm here? I'm happy to check on your stitches."

You shake your wings out as you stand and then carefully tuck them against your back, glancing at your shoulder. The bandages are slightly stained gold, the wound disturbed from how hard you'd shoved Jason back earlier.

You look to Robin for guidance. He gives the bandage a similar once-over, then clicks his tongue.

"That might be wise. Agent A won't hurt you," he promises. "You can trust him."

Alfred bows and offers his hand for you to shake. You grasp it a touch too firmly and just hold it in place for a few seconds, but he just smiles and excuses himself to fetch some supplies from the med bay. While he's gone, Damian carries both trays to the table near the center of the room, placing them down and taking a seat.

"You can come eat," he says. You sit and look at your offerings — buttered wheat toast, two poached eggs, a couple strips of turkey bacon, and a glass of orange juice — with no change of expression. "Something wrong?"

"No," you say, "I just... can't eat this."

"If it's a matter of diet, we can find you something else —"

"I apologize," you gently interrupt, "I mean to say, I don't eat. I don't need to."

Damian pulls the notepad, crinkled from the earlier confrontation with Jason, out of his pocket and jots that down.

"How do you get energy, then?" He asks. You shrug.

"I rest. Other than that, I need nothing."

"That is a shame," Alfred says, returning with some fresh bandages and a small bottle of saline to keep the wound clean. You don't protest when he asks to remove the old gauze. "Should you find yourself curious to try a nibble, I hope it might please you. I am also available for anything else you might require — new clothes, perhaps."

You perk up at that. You dislike the gaping tear in your sleeve, so a replacement robe would be nice.

"Yes," you reply. "Please. What do you require in exchange?"

"Nothing but your measurements, so I can make sure it fits correctly."

You nod, acquiescing to whatever is needed. Alfred pulls out a tape measure and, with your consent, notes your size and approximately how much fabric space you'll need on your back to accommodate your wings. Damian finishes eating by then, so he retrieves the trays and leaves with another bow and a promise to be back in a couple of hours with new clothes.

"Robin," you say, when Damian gets up to go back to the computer. He looks at you intently. "I know I cannot leave this place, but is there somewhere...bigger that I can fly?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "The cave system is mostly long, not wide. It doesn't get much bigger than the part we're standing in."

Damian turns and points to his left, to a dark corridor just beyond the Batcomputer.

"If you don't break anything and keep away from the bats, you can fly around as long as you want. The pathways split off in different sections and levels, but they all lead back here to the center of the cave."

He looks at you again, hand on his hip.

"Does that suffice?"

Well. It's not open air where the breeze can rush through your wings and you can admire the sky overhead, but it's something and you are restless. It'll have to do.

Wordlessly you extend your wings, feathers shaking themselves out as you stretch the limbs, and you take off.

Damian sinks into the chair in front of the computer again, pressing a couple buttons to reawaken the screens. He glances at the roster of available allies and feels his headache intensify when there's no change. Still no help for now. Still stuck in the cave, watching over you and not getting any sleep.

He leans back and rubs his eyes under the mask again, lids drooping. Damian can't hear any wing flapping, which indicates you're likely long gone in the elaborate cave system. He can switch the cameras on the computer from key observation points around the city to the different levels of the cave itself, but the idea of subjecting his corneas to the harsh screens again is nearly unbearable.

You're likely going to be occupied for a while, and you already know not to leave the cave.

Damian could just...can just...

Just rest his eyes for five minutes.

#flight of fancy #winged reader au #damian wayne x reader #metahuman reader #damian wayne #gender neutral reader

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chaos--s · 2 days ago

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Okay, so like I got this idea from playing a short Roblox game called 'Prototype'. It's just a quick and brief game, similar to Stanley Parable, except you act as a game tester for a game developer and help the dev try out the game's controls and mechanics. There's only 2 endings for the game and I honestly don't know if the irl game devs are still working on it.

But anyway, that had me thinking and I thought what if a programmer creates his very own digital child (aka the reader), and because reader is a purely digital being made of 1s and 0s, they have an inherent want to learn more about anything and everything. Bonus points if their creator made them not because of a tragic story like 'reader being based off their dead child' or something but the programmer honestly just wanted a child to care for without all the hassle of finding romance.

I could say that the programmer has the potential to be one of the chillest yandere dad out there since he knows reader won't be going anywhere and he can always monitor his baby even from the comfort of his phone. Additionally, he can provide lots of activities for reader so their curiosity is always satiated and he even lets them help him test his games to look for bugs and test out the controls and whatnot.

this is such a cool idea :0

i'm just gonna do a quick thought dump and y'all can tell me if you guys want a drabble of this idea :3

idk why but my brain immediately went to powerpuff girls, because they were made for a scientist right? the perfect daughters, but then he fucks up and makes them superhuman. but reader was made with the programmer's idea of what a perfect child to him is, he doesn't fuck up because to me he's a little bit of a perfectionist.

he feels like the kind of guy that generally does not like children, avoids them when he can because he thinks they are nuisances and a waste of money. but there's a small human side of him that wants to take care of something. and seeing as he can't keep his pet fish alive for more than 2 weeks (he forgot it existed after working on his project for too long. bro should not be taking care of actual living beings.) programming a small child-like being is the next best thing right?

so poof, reader comes into existence. it's a small project, simple programming of a little landscape and a cute home. it's adorable really, the cutest thing he has ever made.

reader is perfect from the get go, i mean obviously they are. he made them so why wouldn't they be perfect. the curiosity, the way they interacted with their surroundings was fun to observe. and slowly but surely, he starts to become attached.

he doesn't have friends, so most of his attention has turned onto reader. he spends hours conversing with them, talking to them about the world. about himself, making himself seem so much more cooler than he actually is. like yeah, he actually has a bunch of friends but he makes time to talk to reader.

totally.

reader becomes the only thing he genuinely cares about in life. keeping them happy and their curiosity satiated. everything from real life he would program into reader's digital world. every time their eyes sparkled as they explored the new thing that popped up in their little world.

all they know is what he tells them. he is reader's dad creator and the real world is scary and that they should be glad that they're made in the digital world.

bro is so completely normal about reader.

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #parental yandere #familial yandere #tw yandere #yandere imagines

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 days ago

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okay, so i have a headcanon that logan hates grocery shopping, but only likes it if you're there. the only reason? he likes groping you. also, i might've gotten carried away with this, lol

---

Logan initially complains about going grocery shopping. Loudly.

“We just went last week. How much food could you possibly need, darlin’?”

He acts gruff and annoyed, but the second you start getting ready to leave, he's pulling on his boots, grabbing his keys, and beating you out the door. He’d never admit he actually enjoys doing something so mundane with you.

Logan’s hand is constantly on you. At first, it’s subtle: resting on your lower back as you walk through the produce section, his thumb rubbing slow, idle circles.

When you're reaching up high to grab something off a top shelf, you feel his broad chest pressed against your back, one hand steadying your waist while his other easily grabs whatever you need.

You notice the amused, appreciative look in Logan's eyes whenever you bend down to get something from the lower shelves. Eventually, you start exaggerating the motion just to mess with him.

He growls quietly, low enough that only you hear. “Careful, darlin’. Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll drag you right back to the car.”

You grin up at him, enjoying the faint blush that rises to his cheeks. He hates how easily you can affect him—yet he secretly loves it.

Logan is constantly aware of people looking at you. He narrows his eyes at anyone lingering a second too long.

Once, another shopper tries chatting you up by the cereal aisle. Logan doesn’t say a word; he just steps forward, chest broadening slightly, eyes hard. The guy quickly apologizes and scurries away.

Logan turns back to you with a scowl. “Every goddamn time,” he grumbles. You can’t help but laugh.

When the aisle is empty, Logan pulls you close, pressing an unexpected kiss to your temple or your lips, making you gasp and giggle softly.

He smirks at your flushed expression. “What? You complainin’?” You just shake your head, smiling.

Near checkout, he sneaks another quick grope, his large hand discreetly squeezing your hip or backside, hidden from view by the shopping cart.

“Logan!” you hiss through laughter, swatting at him lightly. He shrugs, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Can't blame me—you look real good pushin’ this cart around.”

At the checkout lane, Logan gets predictably grumpy again. He sighs dramatically, arms crossed over his chest as you watch the cashier scan item after item.

You gently lean against him, and instantly, his arm comes around you protectively. His annoyed expression softens slightly when he looks down at your face tucked against his chest.

As you finish paying, Logan quietly grabs the heavier bags without you asking. You try to take one, but he scoffs softly, holding them away. “Let me carry ‘em, darlin’.”

By the time you're loading the groceries into the trunk, Logan’s mood has mellowed significantly. He steals another quick kiss before shutting the trunk and leaning you against the car for a longer one, making you laugh breathlessly against his lips.

He pulls back slightly, thumb gently brushing your bottom lip. “Maybe grocery shoppin’ ain't all that bad,” he mutters, feigning reluctance.

You grin knowingly. “Told you so.”

THIS MADE MY HEART GO ‼️‼️‼️ (also like, this is written so perfect??)

Logan thinks hes SO slick that beast 😏

But no, domestic grocery shopping with logan!!! I have a love/ hate relationship with grocery shopping but if hes there!!! Groping me and being cute and protecting me from flirty guys THEN SIGN ME UP!!! Im making my grocery list rn.... (the only thing on it is Logan)

Him being grumpy about it but immediately hopping up to do it is SO attractive to me. Like he could just stay home if he dont like it but he does it anyway??? Just to be with you??? (And touch you) 😭😭😭

Also being just masculine in general. Getting thingss off the top shelf, puffing out his chest to ward off predators (hes innocent Lo) and carrying heavy things for me??? Im SWOONING!!!

Logan just being SO soft for you is just the cutest thing ever!!! I love love love him being grumpy and overstimulated but one little hug or touch of his hand just resets him and he becomes lovey dovey wolverine with you 🩷🩷🩷

Thank you for sending this in!! It was lovely to read 🥰😘

#van rambles #logan howlett #wolverine #thank you!!!

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viviansturns · 1 day ago

Text

𝒄𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒆

╰┈➤ 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

the clock reads 1:42am.

your apartment is a mess of finished coffee cups, highlighters, and tear-streaked notes. jacob is gone at a house party while you slave away at your work.

the glow of your laptop screen feels like it's burning a hole in your retinas. your chest is tight, and you feel like you can’t quite catch your breath. you’ve been staring at the same sentence for an hour. and now it’s all crashing down.

you shove your laptop closed and press the heels of your palms to your eyes.

i can’t do this. i can’t fucking do this.

and then you hear it—three soft knocks at the door.

you freeze.

then:

“y/n? it’s me.”

chris.

you wipe your face quickly, but your hands are shaking. “go home, chris,” you call out, voice cracked and thin.

“not happening.”

he pushes the door open gently, holding a plastic bag in one hand. his curls are messy. hoodie sleeves pushed up. he sees what’s going on instantly—the way you’re curled up on the floor by the couch, notes scattered around in a mess.

his whole face softens.

“hey…” he crouches beside you, setting the bag down. “talk to me.”

your bottom lip quivers. you don’t want to cry again. you really don’t. but something about his voice, his presence, the sheer relief of not being alone—it breaks the last dam.

“i’m gonna fail,” you whisper. “i don’t understand this section, and i’ve read it four times, and the prof is gonna think i’m an idiot, and i haven’t slept, and i—”

your breath hitches, sharp and fast. too fast. your hands tremble harder.

chris doesn’t say anything at first. he just moves closer, sliding behind you and pulling you into his lap like it’s second nature. one hand rubs slow circles into your back, the other comes up to cradle your jaw, grounding you.

“okay. okay. breathe with me, bug. you’re okay. right here.”

you try. you really do. but the sobs are coming faster than your lungs can keep up. your chest feels like it’s going to split in half and the world feels like it’s going to end.

“can’t—” you gasp.

“yes you can.” his voice is low, steady. “you’re safe. you’re not alone. i’m here.”

your whole body just shudders and sweats and you feel lightheaded.

you cling to his hoodie like a lifeline. he rocks you gently, murmuring things you don’t quite process—just the tone is enough.

after a while—minutes or maybe hours—your breathing slows. your face is puffy, your throat raw, but the panic has ebbed into something dull and quiet. chris is still holding you like you’re fragile. precious.

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks eventually, brushing a thumb under your eye.

you sniff. “midterm. big one. i thought i had it, but i just—my brain stopped working. and everything else feels impossible.”

chris exhales like he’s been holding his breath with you. “you know you’re one of the smartest people i’ve ever met, right?”

you don’t answer. you just look away.

he catches your chin gently. “bug. you don’t have to be perfect. you just have to breathe. and let people show up when you need them.”

“i didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whisper.

“i need to see you like this,” he says, serious now. “if i only show up when it’s easy, i don’t deserve to be here at all.”

you blink hard.

he smiles, just a little. “besides, i brought brownies.”

your laugh is watery but real. “you’re such a dork.”

“yeah,” he says, pulling you into him again. “but i’m your dork. and you’re not failing anything. we’ll figure it out.”

if only i had a cute boy bsf to come to my apartment and comfort me when I'm having a panic attack..... y/n you're on lucky bitch

anyways this is literally exactly how my panic attacks feel so if you've never gotten one nows ur chance to see! wahoo!

taglist - @sturnbrooke @emely9274 @arianna1342 @gemzyy @namelesssav @chestersturn @ellieluvssturniolos @tits4matt @vanteguccir @luke8989 @matt-sturnioloo @glee2skkii @riggysworld @sturnslux3 @cass-sturn @auttysturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @chrismakesmewet @whore4chris @sturns-mermaid @eeyoresturnz @httpssturns @chrxsprettygirl @bernardsbendystraws @chrisbratt333 @aurorasturnz @iluvchr1s @sturniolosymphony @joanakaulitz @sturn-ath3na @chrispycremedonut @matts-hersheys-kisses

comment 2 be added! muah love you guys!

#the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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pyonpurin · 1 day ago

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College Drummer Bakugo Katsuki

THIS IS A WEIRD BRAIN VOMIT PLEASEEEEE ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

don't expect tew much or i'm gonna cry

drummer katsuki x fashion designer reader

genre fluff

omfg idfc it's a brain vomit FFS

none hero au, just plain plain 'ol college students! katsuki is 21 on his 3rd year of college and reader is a year older fresh graduate, back in the country and is trying to make an independent clothing line!

──────────────────────────────

Weird prompt that i'll never write so is it really a prompt? anyways, i still need to get it out of my head!

⚠ SUPER DUPER many typos and please do excuse my english it's not my first language lololol ⚠

Okay so, college drummer Bakugo with his band mates (BakuSquad is what we would call duh) always practice at Jiro's garage (let's just imagine that Kyoka's parents are rich as hell because they're like some famous singers or in a band thus why she has her own house even tho she's just a college student yeayeayea!) one day Jiro's old childhood friend (reader) just came back from college somewhere out of the country and crashed at Jiro's place.

Bakugo left his motorcycle keys on the garage couch without noticing until he sat on his motorcycle and (reader) went to him and gave him his keys, introduced herself because they haven't properly introduced each other, told him reader just graduate that's why she's suddenly back in japan blablabla all that jazz, asked each other what they major in and reader proudly tell him that she studied fashion, Katsuki basically said that's dumb (i feel like he would never but this is for the sake of the plot kay) and then reader explain how important fashion is starting from influential campaigns, controversial runways, and how political fashion is and oh suddenly he's hooked by your smartass, i mean he thinks you're pretty of course but he thought you're just some fashion bimbo or something till you pulled up an Elle Woods on him.

Anyways.. reader asked back what he majors in and he majors in music idk what you guys call it i have to search it up, and reader was like oh! duh! he's in a band that makes so much sense! anyways reader gave him her business card, made it herself, colorful and many many cute doodles, the way she smiles, laugh, the way she brings herself up as this cheerful girliepop is so so fun.

Kay he went home wondering about shit, it's not like he never had a girlfriend or anything but this felt different, she was fun to talk to, easy, like it's so natural, but whatever right? he went to sleep, and the next day he goes to class and stuff, and on his way back he's thinking of crashing at Jiro's place to practice his set, texted her that he's coming, he has her keys and stuff (they're that close i suppose!) and just immediately get in, open Jiro's door to see you and Jiro arguing about some sketches reader made of Jiro's outfit that reader volunteered to make for her upcoming performance, Jiro wanted sequins but oh my god the fabric itself will already be sparkly, what? she wants to be a disco ball up there? (it was an all fun and giggle argument tho! and i do believe while Jiro's outfit is kinda plain on the series, i'm a fancy kyoka truther!) and so Bakugo chimes in, and once they agree on something reader rushed and gather her sketches, take her bag, and said she wants to immediately buy the fabrics and stuff! and Bakugo who just arrived weirdly volunteered to take her saying he has to run some errands!

"Thought you were gonna practice your set-"

"Shut it ears. C'mon fashion freak, i don't got all day."

You gave Jiro a look that says "Um what the fuck?!" but oh you be grinning ear to ear, and she gave you a "Tell me how it goes!" look, i mean? riding a hot drummer's motorcycle? SIGN ME UP! aaaaaaaaand that's about it i'm fried lol!

waaaaaaaaaaaait this is so fun to vomit out omgomgogmgmgoggm

songs and shit that inspired this :

Elle Woods (my fav girl), my dream major (fashion), the school festival obvii, Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE, Lovers by Anna Of The North, EARLY DEBUT TWICE SONGS!, She by TYLER THE FREAKING CREATOR, Still Into You by my goat Paramore, Confident by Justin Bieber, yeaaaaaaaa that's about it i guess! when i wrote this i kinda got reminded of this webtoon called to you who swallowed a star (must read!)

ty for reading this was so fun to write!

#bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo i love you #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #mha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsuki #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo imagine #Spotify

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t00thpasteface · 2 days ago

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Hey! Been following you for a while and I adore your art, and you don't have to respond or answer this, but I just wanna say how much I appreciate how you draw people of color. Like, your Malik and Altair drawings, even the simpler ones, you draw their features so well and you give them lighter palms and dual toned lips, and it's just so nice to see? Genuinely it will make my day, I'm always a little bummed out about the lack of representation, especially for Arab characters, and the way you draw Malik, his skin tone, it's similar to mine and I just feel so seen.

I guess I'm trying to say thank you for adding these details to your art, even if they seem small they mean a lot <3

OMG i'm so so so flattered to hear this!!

this is the most ac fanart i've done in at least a decade, and honestly, one of the most disappointing things to see since coming back and catching up has been how prevalent whitewashed altmal fanart still is. the crazy thing is that even in art where they get the skin tones right, altair still keeps showing up as a blonde/brunette, which is like... beyond baseless. i mean he literally uses the EXACT same head/facial texture on his in-game model as desmond, who has black hair. you can back the in-game camera into a wall and see desmond's heavy black eyebrows on altair's face. and as for malik, well, i mean. he's right there. you can use your eyes and context clues and know that that is not a white man.

besides, malik's white hood and embroidery pop more when his skin is darker, which makes for a strong and symbolic composition. altair looks cute and striking with jet black hair. and how often do you get gaming protags that look like them to begin with? plus, adding all the little details is a lot of fun on top of everything else!! if you're going to claim it's a stylistic choice to give them a melanin deficiency, you have to admit it's a boring one.

anyway, pardon the rant, and thank you so much!!!! it really is a pleasure ^_^ have a pic of altair givin' 'em the ol' razzle dazzle:

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snottyped · 2 hours ago

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i have no restraint so here i am, back with another request 💞 thinking of smth like this, you & your bf are going through a rough patch, he’s distant and you think he may break up with you soon despite you not having done anything wrong, so to salvation your relationship you book this trip, a quiet cottage getaway to reconnect with nature and all that jazz, hoping that maybe the alone time with your partner will revitalize the bonds you once had, anywho you forgot to check the reviews, the cottage is cute but totally haunted and a couple nights in the ghost residing has had enough of your stupid bf and decides he’d be better so he possesses him 👀 he tries to pretend to be the old bf but quickly loses the facade once he’s gotten in ur bed and can’t keep his cool, nsfw/fluff vibes?

(oml this got to be so long >.< so sorry! p.s. this is disgrace c:)

Possession

ghost x female reader

note: u make a lot of requests 😂

You couldn’t help but sigh as you stared out the window of the tiny cottage. The rolling hills beyond were beautiful, but they couldn’t quite match the sinking feeling in your chest. You had hoped—no, prayed—that this little getaway would fix things with your boyfriend. The last few weeks had been rough. The spark between you two had faded, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pulling away. The silence between you had grown so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

You had booked the cottage in a desperate attempt to save whatever was left. You had read about the quiet, peaceful charm of the place, how it was nestled in the woods away from the world, offering an ideal escape. No distractions. Just the two of you, and nature. It sounded like the perfect way to rekindle your bond.

But you hadn’t checked the reviews. You hadn’t even thought to.

And now, as you curled up on the couch in the flickering light of a fire that seemed a little too cold, you began to wonder if it was all worth it.

The cottage, though cute, felt… off. The air was thick, as if the space was holding its breath, and the whisper of footsteps in the hallway when no one was around only made you second-guess everything.

Your boyfriend, Alex, was upstairs. His presence felt as distant as ever, even though he sat just a room away. It was like he was physically here but mentally miles away. Your stomach twisted at the thought that maybe… just maybe… he was considering breaking up with you. But you hadn’t done anything wrong! Not on purpose, anyway.

You wrapped your arms around your knees, staring into the fire. Maybe things would change tomorrow. That’s what you kept telling yourself. You just needed time. Quiet. Space.

As if on cue, the air seemed to shift. A cold breeze brushed against your skin. It wasn’t the wind from outside—no, this was something else. The hairs on your neck stood on end, a chill sweeping over you that had nothing to do with the temperature.

You stood up, looking around the room, your breath catching in your throat. A soft creak echoed through the floorboards above you, and then—

His voice.

Alex was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at you with a strange expression. His eyes were wide, but there was something different about him. Something… off. His usual coldness was replaced with something darker, more intense, yet oddly tender.

“Hey… you alright?” His voice sounded normal, but there was an underlying smoothness, a layer of something that didn’t sit right with you.

You frowned, getting to your feet. “Yeah… I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

There was a moment of silence before he slowly descended the stairs. He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier, but the way he moved felt different—like his body wasn’t quite his own. His gaze never left you as he stepped closer, the air growing thicker with tension.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual, but there was a softness to it that felt almost unnatural. “I missed you.”

Your heart fluttered with a combination of confusion and hope. This was the Alex you knew—or at least, you thought you did. The one who used to wrap you in his arms and make everything feel right.

You stepped toward him, hesitant. You could feel your pulse in your ears. Was this really him?

But when his hand reached out, you didn’t hesitate. His fingers closed around yours, a warm, possessive grip that felt right—and yet, wrong.

You let him pull you into his chest. He kissed you deeply, passionately—his lips pressing against yours with a need that made your body shiver in response. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tighter as the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like it was a claim.

“I’m sorry for being distant…” His lips were hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck. “But I can’t stay away from you.”

It should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t.

A chill crawled across your skin as you realized: he wasn’t right. Not completely. It was like he was trying to be your boyfriend, trying to mimic everything he’d once been, but the energy—his scent, the way he touched you, how he kissed you—felt off. His hands cupped your face with a tenderness you didn’t recognize, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks in a possessive, lingering motion.

“Please, let me make it up to you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his breath hot against your ear. “I need you…”

Before you could even process what was happening, he pulled you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. His hands slid down your back, over the curve of your waist, to your hips, tugging at your clothes in an almost frantic way.

Your heart hammered as your body responded to his touch—maybe it was your desperation for him to feel real, to reconnect. You couldn’t help the way your body betrayed you, your hips grinding slightly against him, seeking that closeness, that heat.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his breath heavy as he kissed your throat. His hands ran up your sides, lightly squeezing your ribs. “You’re so beautiful… I don’t deserve you.”

The words seemed… too sweet. But you didn’t want to pull away—not when his hands roamed to your chest, gently cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through your clothes. It felt good, too good, and you couldn’t stop the quiet moans escaping your lips.

He seemed to revel in them, a growl vibrating in his chest as he continued, his hands rougher now, his grip tighter. You could feel him hard against your thigh, the heat of him making your pulse spike.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Tell me you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “I’m yours,” you whispered, leaning into him.

And just as you said those words, something inside him snapped. He pulled you down onto the couch with urgency, his hands tugging at your clothes, and in the haze of lust and confusion, you let him. He needed you, and you needed him. But deep down, you knew—it wasn’t Alex anymore.

It was something else.

It wasn’t his eyes were filled adoration. Something Alex never associated with you. It hurt, sure but it was the truth.

“Who are you?”

The moment Alex’s lips left yours, a suffocating silence filled the room. You could feel the cool breeze in the air, the sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed so closely to yours. His gaze flickered for just a second, a flicker of something that didn’t belong, and that’s when you realized—this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Baby, I’m yours.”

The coldness of the air grew stronger as his hands roamed down your body. His grip was still familiar, but the touch was far more demanding. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer, pushing your body flush against his. Your heart hammered in your chest as his breath grew heavier, his scent growing richer—something distinctly other mixed with the faint musk of your boyfriend’s cologne.

“You’re so beautiful,” the voice that wasn’t Alex’s whispered, hoarse and dripping with affection p.

Your breath caught as his lips traced the curve of your jaw, moving down to your neck. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, taking his time to leave hot, wet marks on your skin, biting gently at the tender spots. His mouth was demanding, rough, but with the faintest hint of tenderness buried beneath the desperate hunger.

Every second felt like your skin was burning. Your body ached for him, but the rational part of you screamed that this wasn’t right. This wasn’t Alex. This wasn’t him.

But still… your body betrayed you, and your hips instinctively rocked against him, feeling the length of him hard and pressing against you. You gasped softly, and that seemed to be the trigger. His hands shot to your chest, pulling at your shirt with a sudden urgency that made you shiver.

“I’ve waited too long for you,” he growled. The words were laced with something darker now, something far more possessive. “Now… I’m not letting go.”

His fingers worked quickly, expertly, stripping you of your clothes as if he had done this a thousand times before. The moment your shirt was gone, his lips were on your skin again, kissing a trail down your chest until he reached your breasts. He cupped them with reverence, massaging them with just the right pressure as he lavished attention on your nipples, licking and sucking until you were a whimpering mess beneath him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to do more, to touch you everywhere. It felt right, so right, but that little voice in your head—drowned out by the pounding of your heart—reminded you this wasn’t your boyfriend. This was something else.

But the sensation of his lips, his hands on you… it was too much.

His mouth found its way back to yours, hungry and demanding. His kiss was rougher now, deeper. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling you closer, devouring you like you were the only thing that mattered. He groaned, deep and guttural, pressing you harder into the couch.

“You’re mine,” he whispered harshly against your lips. “And I’m going to make you scream my name.”

You gasped as he shoved your panties aside, a finger slipping between your folds, teasing at your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid a finger inside you, making you moan. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn’t stop. You needed him.

He wasted no time, adding another finger, curling them inside you as you gasped, your body moving with his rhythm. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles that had you gasping for more. He moved with purpose, his mouth leaving yours to trail kisses down your body as he worshipped every inch of you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and raspy. “So fucking wet for me. All for me.”

You didn’t have the words. You could only moan as he slid his fingers in and out of you, every movement coaxing more pleasure from your body. Your hands clutched at him, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips bucked against his touch, desperate for more. His eyes never left you, watching your reactions with a hungry gleam, and it sent a wave of heat through you.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, a soft growl escaping his lips as he moved to kneel between your legs. Your heart raced in anticipation as he hovered over you, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, voice dripping with lust.

You nodded, unable to form words, your body begging for him. His hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock already painfully hard. The ghost inside him wasn’t wasting any time, not caring that your body was still adjusting to the sudden rush of heat and desire. He slid inside slowly, his movements deliberate as he filled you completely.

You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation overwhelming but so good. Your hands clung to his arms, nails digging into his skin as he thrust deeper, setting a pace that had you gasping and moaning beneath him.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Take me. Let me own you.”

The ghost’s words hit you like a wave. You could feel the power he held over you now, feel how his presence filled the space in a way that had you trembling, your walls tightening around him.

His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, and the weight of his body pressing against yours was enough to drive you wild. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust deeper than the last, and you could barely think, just feel, him. It wasn’t just Alex—it was something more, something older and hungrier. The ghost within him didn’t care about anything except claiming you.

“You’re mine now,” he repeated, his hands gripping your body with possessive force. “And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

Every thrust, every stroke, had you moaning louder, your nails raking down his back. You wanted to scream, but his mouth found yours again, swallowing your cries as he fucked you into the couch.

“I’m going to fill you up,” he groaned. “Fill you with all of me.”

With that, he thrust harder, his control slipping as he came inside you with a deep, shuddering groan. You followed quickly after, the sensation of him filling you sending you over the edge as you came, your body shaking beneath him.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Finally, he pulled back, his eyes glowing with satisfaction.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, stroking your cheek tenderly, his earlier roughness giving way to something softer now. “I’ll never let you go.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Your mind was spinning. But deep down, you knew. The ghost wasn’t just in his body now—it was inside you, too.

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