#yeah i need to practice backgrounds more...

[ineed-to-sleep]

Don't wanna be a bother but I bumped into ur touchstarved oc stuff and do you have any pointers for drawing in the touchstarved style? I can't really nail it down 100% but you do so... pretty please?

Hii yeah ofc, it's no bother at all no worries! You sent me this at the right time actually jsdhksd I'm in the middle of redesigning Emma right now and I've been taking a close look at the art style again, so it's all fresh in my mind!

Assuming you already have your design ready and have found a pose or composition you like, replicating the art style will probably come down to getting the lineart and shading to look similar.

About the lineart:

Probably goes without saying, but you'll need a pen with the opacity turned off to get the clean, ink-like lines. If you use CSP I recommend the default textured pen, which I think has a similar look, but honestly any pen will do.

The thing you have to look out for the most when doing the lines is the darkest shadows. It's a bit tricky to explain, and I think a lot of it comes with practice, but you have to look for the places where the darkest shadows would be, or where the light could barely reach. Once you spot them, instead of shading them you create a sharp shape and paint them black, like so:

I also recommend varying the thickness of your lines, but not at random. Instead, try to keep lighting in mind while you draw them. You could draw one continuous thin line for something, and then only thicken it where it falls away from the light, or where it'd create an occlusion, or wherever you want a shape to stand out from another. A thick line will essentially either "push back" or separate things in space, while a thin line will pull it forward or make things look like they're closer together.

You can also exaggerate the shadows in order to create more contrast. Like in the case of Kuras' sleeves and coat, for example- you could argue that some bounce light could still get in there, but with the shadows exaggerated it creates a really nice, clean shape. You can also separate these shapes from other lines by leaving a small space between them and the lines.

The metal might look a bit different, but it follows the same logic as everything else- your darkest shadows will be pure black. It might look like it has more shadows but that's just because it's more reflective, so the light is usually concentrated on highlight and bounce light areas, so the tones around those areas will be darker.

About the shading:

From what I've noticed, it's all about keeping it subtle and simple. If you color pick the characters, you can see the variation between light and shadow is subtle and not all that contrasting. Most of the contrast is done with colors, not values.

The light source is usually from the top right, characters are pretty well lit, and there's a little bit of a blue backlight from the left that helps them stand out against the backgrounds.

The shading is mostly sharp, cel shading, rarely blended. Wherever there's blending, it's usually subtle or a gradient

They also use gradations to indicate color shifts, like the colors in Leander's coat. You can do this with the gradient tool or an airbrush.

I recommend picking 1 color for light, 1 color for shadow, and maybe 1 inbetween midtone to use sparingly in places where you want a very subtle shadow. You can go more fancy if you're trying to create something that looks more like the game's CGs, but if you're going for the same look as the sprites, it's better to keep it simple.

You can shade manually each part of the character, or you can try using a multiply layer. For multiply, I like shifting the color towards a warm or pinkish tone and keeping it light and desaturated to get a similar look as the sprites.

Highlights are used very sparingly, only on a few places like the nose, mouth, eyes, and a few on the hair. Maybe occasionally somewhere else, but only if necessary, like in the case of very reflective materials like metal, gold, glass and leather.

The characters also usually have subtle textures on their clothes, and you can quickly create something similar by using a textured brush and an overlay or multiply mode. Like so:

It's subtle, but makes a difference in my opinion! You can try this with a lot of different textured brushes to get the exact look you're going for.

That's all I could think of right now! If you have any questions or wanna know anything specific I didn't mention here, let me know!

[inkolnito]

Paddock Confidential - Chapter 7: The Midnight Call

Pairing:

Oliver "Ollie" Bearman x Lira Räikkönen (Original Female Character )

Minor background pairings reflecting the real-life F1 grid (e.g., Charles Leclerc/Alexandra Saint Mleux)

Summary:

Rising F1 star Ollie Bearman navigates the intense pressure of his rookie season with Haas, juggling demanding team expectations and his close ties to Ferrari under the watchful eye of Fred Vasseur. His biggest challenge lies off-track: guarding his relationship with the enigmatic and fiercely private Lira, whose surprising motorsport knowledge and aversion to the spotlight hint at a complex past connected to one of the sport's icons. As Ollie fights for his future, their secret world threatens to unravel amidst paddock gossip, rivalries, and the ever-present Drive to Survive cameras. When exposure becomes inevitable, they must confront the consequences and find a way to navigate the relentless glare of the F1 world together.

Warnings and Notes:

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety, stress related to high-pressure environments (F1), mentions of past trauma (related to privacy/media intrusion), media scrutiny/harassment, potential minor F1-typical language.

Notes: This is a work of fiction using real people (F1 drivers, personnel) as characters; their portrayals, actions, and relationships are fictionalized for the story.

Jeddah hummed with a different kind of energy than the historic European tracks Ollie was more accustomed to.

The air, even late at night, felt thick, soupy, clinging to the skin with a persistent humidity that defied the hotel room’s air conditioning. Below their window, the lights of the Corniche circuit glittered, a futuristic ribbon snaking along the Red Sea coast, promising brutal speed and unforgiving proximity to the concrete walls. It was Thursday night, the eve of the Formula 2 weekend, and Ollie Bearman should have been winding down, mentally preparing for Friday’s practice and qualifying sessions.

He sat hunched over his laptop at the small desk, the glow of the screen illuminating his focused expression, casting long shadows in the otherwise dimly lit room. Spread around him were printouts of track maps, setup notes, and tyre degradation charts – the familiar tools of his trade. He was deep in data analysis, comparing his practice runs from earlier that day with telemetry from his Prema teammate, Andrea Kimi Antonelli, searching for those elusive fractions of a second around the demanding Jeddah street circuit. Every corner here was a potential incident, every braking zone a test of nerve. Consistency was key, and his FP1 hadn't been as clean as he’d wanted.

Across the room, curled up on the surprisingly comfortable hotel armchair with a thick book on abstract expressionism, sat Lira. Her presence was a quiet counterpoint to the intensity of Ollie’s preparation. Since their conversation after the Baku Gala, since she had finally, quietly confirmed the truth Ollie already knew, a subtle shift had occurred. The underlying tension of the unspoken had eased, replaced by a deeper, more comfortable intimacy, though the need for external secrecy remained an ever-present, demanding reality. She understood his need to focus before a race weekend, respecting his process, offering her silent support simply by being there. Occasionally, she would look up from her book, her cool grey eyes observing him, and offer a quiet, insightful comment on the data he was muttering about, her technical acumen still startling him at times, a casual reminder of the unique world she came from.

"You're still losing a tenth to Kimi through Turn 13," she murmured now, not looking up from her page, having apparently absorbed the telemetry through osmosis. "Looks like entry speed, maybe carrying too much brake."

Ollie sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Yeah, I know. Struggling to get the rotation right without unsettling the rear on exit. It’s a compromise." He zoomed in on the relevant graph, frowning. "Maybe another click of front wing for tomorrow…"

"Or adjust the diff ramp settings," Lira suggested quietly, turning a page. "Could give you more stability on entry, allow you to carry more minimum speed."

He glanced over at her, a familiar mix of affection and slight awe rising in him. Her knowledge was effortless, innate. "Yeah, maybe," he conceded. "Worth discussing with Marco in the morning." He stretched, feeling the fatigue deep in his muscles. The heat, the travel, the pressure – it all took its toll. "Right, think I'm going to call it a night. Need to be sharp tomorrow."

He shut down the laptop, gathered his notes into a neat pile, the routine actions helping to calm his pre-race nerves. Lira marked her page and closed her book, stretching languidly like a cat. "Time to switch off," she observed, closing her book. "You've done enough for tonight."

Ollie managed a tired grin. "Yeah, you're right. My eyes are crossing." He crossed the room, bending down to kiss the top of her head, inhaling the faint, clean scent of her hair. "Thanks for the setup advice, by the way. Even if you make me feel inadequate."

A tiny smile touched her lips. "Just observing," she murmured, looking up at him, her grey eyes soft in the dim light.

They moved through the quiet rituals of getting ready for bed, the comfortable silence broken only by the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of Jeddah traffic. Ollie felt the usual pre-race jitters begin to subside, replaced by a sense of calm contentment that Lira’s presence always seemed to bring. He was just drifting off, hovering in that pleasant space between wakefulness and sleep, Lira already breathing deeply and evenly beside him, when his phone, charging on the bedside table, let out a sharp, demanding ring.

Ollie groaned, fumbling for it in the darkness, squinting at the brightly lit screen. Unknown number. Italian prefix. Probably just a wrong number, or maybe late-night sponsor spam. He almost ignored it, tempted to just roll over and embrace sleep. But something, some ingrained driver’s instinct perhaps, made him swipe to answer, holding the phone to his ear with a mumbled, sleepy, "Yeah? Hello?"

"Oliver? Is René Rosin."

The voice on the other end was instantly recognizable, sharp, urgent, unmistakably the Prema Team Principal. Ollie sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly wide awake, his heart giving a nervous lurch. A late-night call from the boss was never usually good news. Had something happened? An issue with the car? A penalty from practice?

"René? Hi. Everything okay?" Ollie asked, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with sudden anxiety.

"Everything is… unexpected," Rosin replied, his tone serious, lacking its usual jovial edge. "Listen carefully, Oliver. I have just come from a meeting with Ferrari."

Ferrari? Ollie’s mind scrambled. Why would René be meeting with Ferrari at this hour? And why call him? Maybe about Antonelli, their Mercedes junior connection?

"Okay…" Ollie said slowly, confused.

"Carlos Sainz," Rosin continued, his voice dropping slightly, "has been diagnosed with appendicitis. He requires surgery. Immediately."

Ollie’s brain struggled to process the information. Carlos? Appendicitis? Surgery? That was… serious. Bad luck for Carlos, terrible timing. But what did that have to…

"He cannot drive this weekend," Rosin stated flatly.

The implication hit Ollie like a physical blow, stealing his breath. No. It couldn't mean…

"Ferrari need a replacement driver," Rosin’s voice was calm, steady, but held an undercurrent of momentous weight. "Starting from FP3 tomorrow. They have made their decision." A pause that stretched for an eternity, filled only by the frantic pounding of Ollie’s own heart against his ribs, loud in the sudden silence.

"Oliver… they want you."

The words hit him like G-force, pinning him against the headboard. His ears roared, the hotel room seemed to tilt, and the expensive room service dinner he'd barely touched threatened a sudden reappearance. He felt the blood drain from his face, his palms instantly slick with sweat. Me? Drive the Ferrari? Tomorrow? It felt like a dream, a hallucination induced by fatigue and pressure. The call every young driver fantasized about, suddenly made terrifyingly real.

"Ollie? Did you hear me?" Rosin’s voice cut through the fog in his head.

"Y-yes," Ollie stammered, his voice barely a whisper, dry and cracked. "Yes, René, I heard. I just… wow." He swung his legs out of bed, landing unsteadily on the plush carpet. His hands shook uncontrollably as adrenaline surged through him – a dizzying, nauseating wave of pure shock mixed with incandescent excitement and paralyzing fear. He felt simultaneously like he was going to throw up and like he could run through a brick wall.

"There is much to arrange," Rosin was saying, practicalities already taking over. "Ferrari personnel will meet you first thing. Engineers, PR. Seat fitting will be tight, but they have your measurements from previous tests. You need to be at the Ferrari hospitality by 7 AM sharp. Understand?"

"Seven AM. Ferrari hospitality. Yes. Understood," Ollie repeated numbly, the words feeling foreign, mechanical. He glanced over at Lira. She was awake now, propped up on one elbow, watching him, her expression unnervingly calm but intensely focused, her grey eyes sharp with question in the dim light filtering from the bathroom. She must have sensed the shift, heard the tremor in his voice, seen the shock radiating from him like heat haze.

"Good," Rosin said. "This is a huge opportunity, Oliver. Massive. But also immense pressure. Stay calm. Focus. Listen to the engineers. Drive what you know. Don't try to be a hero immediately." The advice was sound, necessary, but Ollie’s mind was already miles ahead, picturing himself strapped into the scarlet cockpit of the SF-24, the Prancing Horse emblem on the steering wheel.

Utterly surreal.

"I will, René. Thank you. Thank you for the call," Ollie managed, his voice still shaky.

"Get some sleep if you can," Rosin advised, though his tone suggested he knew it was a futile suggestion. "Big day tomorrow. In bocca al lupo."

Good luck.

The line clicked dead. Ollie lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen as if it held the secrets of the universe. He felt Lira’s gaze on him, steady, questioning. He turned to face her, his own eyes wide, probably looking slightly manic.

"What is it?" Lira asked softly, her voice calm, a stark contrast to the hurricane raging inside him.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out for a second. He swallowed hard, trying again. "That… that was René," he finally managed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Carlos. He has appendicitis. Needs surgery. Can't drive." He paused, taking a ragged breath, the enormity of the next part threatening to overwhelm him. "Ferrari… they… they want me. To drive. Starting tomorrow. FP3."

He watched her face closely, bracing for her reaction. Surprise? Excitement? Worry? Lira’s expression barely flickered. Her cool grey eyes held his, absorbing the information with unnerving calmness. There was no gasp, no exclamation. Instead, her gaze sharpened further, becoming analytical, focused. For a fraction of a second, beneath the calm assessment, Ollie thought he saw something else flicker deep within – a cold dread, perhaps, triggered by the thought of the blinding glare of the F1 spotlight, the ravenous curiosity their secret would now face? But it was gone instantly, replaced by unwavering composure. Panic was a luxury neither of them could afford right now. First, Ollie.

Then, containment.

She sat up fully, swinging her legs out of bed to sit beside him.

"Okay," she said, her voice low, steady, utterly devoid of panic. It was the same tone she used when dissecting telemetry data, calm and rational amidst chaos. She placed a cool hand on his trembling arm, a simple gesture that felt incredibly grounding. "Okay, Ollie. Breathe."

He realised he’d been holding his breath, his chest tight as a drum. He took a deep, shuddering inhale, the humid Jeddah air feeling heavy in his lungs.

"You know this track," Lira continued calmly, her eyes locked on his, forcing him to focus. "You were quick here last year. You know the corners, the braking points."

"But Lira, it's… it's a Ferrari!" Ollie whispered, the name itself feeling mythical, heavy with history and expectation. "An F1 car. Not the sim. Not a test day. A race weekend. In Jeddah!"

"It's just another car," Lira stated firmly, though her eyes acknowledged the magnitude.

Ollie stared at her.

Just another car? It was a Ferrari. A myth. A career-maker or breaker. The chasm between her lived experience, where F1 cars were perhaps a familiar backdrop, and his current reality gaped wide. Yet her unwavering certainty was the only thing keeping him tethered. "Faster, yes," she continued, "More downforce, more complex systems. But the principles are the same. Steering wheel, pedals, track limits." She squeezed his arm gently. "You know how to drive, Ollie. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. You wouldn't have gotten this call if they didn't believe you could do it."

Her absolute, unwavering calm was astonishing. While Ollie felt like he was vibrating with a chaotic mix of terror and elation, Lira was a rock, a steady anchor in the storm. Her pragmatic, logical approach cut through his panic, forcing him to focus on the controllable elements. Her belief in him, stated so simply, so matter-of-factly, was more reassuring than any effusive praise could ever be. He felt the frantic pounding in his chest begin to subside slightly, the nausea receding. He could do this. Maybe.

But then, another wave hit him – the complication. Their secret. His sudden elevation to an F1 seat, even temporarily, shone a spotlight brighter than anything he’d experienced before. And Lira was here. With him. In Jeddah.

As if reading his mind, Lira’s expression shifted again, her focus becoming sharp, practical, almost strategic. The brief moment of reassurance passed, replaced by an immediate assessment of the new, dangerous reality.

"Right," she said, her voice dropping lower, becoming more intense. "The other thing. Ferrari doesn't know I'm here with you. No one official connects you to me yet, not really." The unspoken 'daughter of Kimi Räikkönen' hung heavy in the air between them. "That needs to stay that way. Absolutely. This weekend changes everything, Ollie. The scrutiny will be insane. Every move you make will be watched, analysed."

Ollie nodded numbly, the weight of their shared secret suddenly feeling ten times heavier. Her presence here, usually a comfort, now felt like a massive liability, a potential landmine in the already treacherous field of his F1 debut.

"Stick to the plan we always have," Lira instructed, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "I'll be invisible. Completely. Don't look for me in the paddock, don't mention me to anyone at Ferrari, not even casually. If anyone asks about family or partners here, you say you travelled alone, focused on F2. Got it?"

"Got it," Ollie confirmed, his throat tight. The need for deception felt starker, more critical than ever. "But Li… how will you even…?"

"I have my ways," she said cryptically, a flicker of her usual enigmatic reserve returning. "I know people. I can get access to feeds, watch from somewhere discreet. Don't worry about me. Your only focus," she emphasized, tapping his chest lightly for emphasis, "has to be that car. Learning it, driving it, listening to the engineers. Nothing else matters this weekend."

The sheer practicality, the immediate shift into operational security mode, was both terrifying and incredibly reassuring. She understood the stakes, the dangers, the rules of this hidden game, far better than he did. While his head was spinning with the dream-come-true opportunity, hers was already calculating the risks, managing the fallout, protecting their secret.

His phone started buzzing again, relentlessly this time. His manager. His parents. Prema’s press officer. The Ferrari junior coordinator. The carefully constructed quiet of their hotel room was shattered. As Ollie paced the room, phone pressed hard against his ear, fielding questions from Ferrari PR, the humid Jeddah air felt thick and suffocating, amplifying the frantic energy.

The glittering lights of the Corniche circuit outside seemed to mock the sudden, terrifying reality crashing down on him.

Lira stood up. "Answer them," she said calmly. "Be polite, be professional. Listen more than you talk." She moved towards his discarded race bag, kneeling down to check his helmet, his balaclava, his gloves, ensuring everything was ready, her movements efficient, practical. A silent, supportive presence amidst the escalating chaos.

Ollie took another deep breath and answered the first call, launching himself into the maelstrom. The next few hours passed in a blur of phone calls, urgent messages, logistical arrangements, technical questions he barely knew how to answer yet. Sleep, as René Rosin had predicted, was utterly impossible. His mind raced, bouncing between delirious excitement at the impossible chance he’d been given, and paralyzing fear of failure on the biggest stage imaginable. And beneath it all, a constant, thrumming anxiety about Lira, about their secret, about the precarious tightrope they were now forced to walk under the blinding glare of the Formula 1 spotlight.

As dawn began to paint the Jeddah sky in hazy shades of pink and orange, Ollie finally hung up the last call. He felt utterly drained, yet simultaneously wired, every nerve ending frayed. He looked over at Lira, who had eventually curled back up in the armchair, her book open on her lap, though he doubted she’d read a single word. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn't asleep. She was simply waiting, a silent guardian in the eye of his personal hurricane. He crossed the room and knelt beside her chair again, resting his forehead against her knee for a moment, drawing strength from her quiet stillness.

"Ready?" she asked softly, her hand coming up to rest gently on his head.

Ollie lifted his head, meeting her calm, steady gaze. The fear was still there, churning in his gut, but Lira’s presence, her unwavering belief, her pragmatic handling of their secret, had somehow forged it into a sharp point of focus. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse but determined. "Yeah, I think I am."

He stood up, took one last look around the hotel room that felt like a relic from a different lifetime already, and headed for the door, Lira moving silently beside him. He was about to step into the fire, into the cockpit of a Ferrari F1 car on one of the world's most demanding tracks, with the eyes of the entire motorsport world upon him. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

And he had to do it while guarding the biggest secret of his life.

He glanced at Lira, saw the quiet strength and the weight of the secret reflected in her grey eyes. Opportunity and peril, walking hand-in-hand towards the door. He took another deep breath.

Time to drive.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

[laolafi]

Yeah, the lack of car safety back then ... damn! But babies are pretty much rubber, there's a good chance he didn't get injured that badly. And it makes for extra drama ... with Matthew at hospital for such a long time, the grandmothers will have completely taken over everything regarding George (and they're constantly bickering or full out fighting over any issue regarding him, Hospital Wars reloaded). And then, instead of letting Matthew be a dad, they decide the child needs a new mummy, because that was the attitude of the day. And Matthew's just completely devastatingly lost. He tries to convince himself to stay alive for George, because George needs him, but day after day Cora and Isobel basically demonstrate that he's very much not needed. And that leads to what it leads to.

(Sybil, I think, would be the one to find him and save him. And then go on to read Cora and Isobel the riot act.)

I adore the idea of Tom and Sybil speaking Irish at home to practise, even if they suck at it. I’m from a minoritised language background myself and that makes 100% sense to me. Like my grandfather who’d insist on writing us kids letters in his native language, albeit horribly spelled as he wasn’t ever alphabetised in that language because fascism and wrote “by ear” only when it's very much not a phonetic language.

So she’d definitely join the Gaelic League in York or some other Irish Expat Club once she's back at Downton. And at first everyone there is super skeptical until she explains, look my daughter’s Irish and we just moved here and I want her to maintain that connection and know her culture now her father isn't around anymore … and when people learn she’s a freedom fighter’s widow, they finally understand and she maybe even becomes something of a prominent figure in their circles (I’m not sure if killed freedom fighters were considered “martyrs”, but it would make sense to me that it doesn’t leave people indifferent). And she makes a circle of Irish friends, some of whom understand what she went through.

I think she’d try to make it at Downton at first, as she said after their escape it’s her safe haven, or maybe Robert insists and she feels indebted somehow (guilt, scandal, maybe him having covered Tom's legal fees). But it’s working out less and less and I’d like to think once an independent Ireland is established in August 1922, she’d go home to Dublin for good.

As for Edith, I'm so glad your gut says Blake because that's my blorbo. No backstory with Mary is indeed a bonus. When he comes to Downton for his survey thing, he totally expects her to be snobbish and more importantly ignorant (so basically like Mary was in canon), but Edith would already have been working on estate matters for a while and she'd impress him quite a bit. She's not an expert or a visionary in any way, but she's hands-on and willing to put in the work, and over time he sees she'd be even more competent if Robert would trust her and let her do more. Edith loves to be admired, doesn't she, and she loves to kiss practical farmers. So three guesses what happens in that pigsty that night ... ;)

As for Rose, I'm not sure if she'd be there due to the family's notoriety. It was a bit implausible even in canon, but with Tom executed for treason? They'd never even consider it, realistically, not when their goal is to preserve Rose's reputation. But it's Downton, and it's a wacky AU, so why not?

I liked Rose and Matthew's dynamics too, and I think she'd be the type to try and pull him out of his rut, only she massively misjudges or oversteps on occasion because she's just so young and naive and ditzy. Like, I see her being chief among those who insist Matthew must fall in love again because that would cheer him up, right, until he explodes in her face at some point and Sybil takes her aside to explain. And when she apologises, because of course she would, I see her being the first person to go "What do you need, Matthew?" and actually listen.

This is getting more and more interesting :)

AU where instead of Sybill and Matthew, it's Tom and Mary that die.

[discendia]

So, I did the thing... I mean, can you imagine the power it holds... How could I not do it?

[REF]

[humming-fly]

Wonder what it's like to feel grass under your feet for the first time in your life. Wonder how it feels knowing you'll be the one to destroy it.

[peanutseagle]

damianya promposal? 👀

We all knew she‘d have to take the promposal (and probably even future proposal, lmao) upon herself. Damian‘s too much of a scaredy cat.

Bonus:

( outfit inspo from this ol art)

[hummingjay]

Had to draw a Skua and one of @schwarzgeier's Geiers together

[onetwothree-moved]

my art summary of 2023 :3 this year was the year i started digital art (which is why the first three drawings are traditional) and im really proud of how far ive come!

please ignore the fucking pokefic blog drawing i genuinely couldn't find anything else for february

the last two drawings aren't that interesting because ive just been doing reference drawings of my ocs lately but that's OK :3

ive learned so much and while i still have a LOT to learn i think im pretty happy with how my art currently looks.. i hope i will keep improving in 2024!!

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[prettyngeto]

historical hoe || ryomen sukuna x f! reader

summary: 10/10 cuddle sesh ruined when you remember your man was basically for the streets in his past life. ugh, what a whore.

content: fluff, established relationship, my boy sukuna is just confused, crackfic?? idk i might make this my brand atp 😭 word count: 1k

main masterlist || jjk masterlist

It started off as a nice lil cosy night. You were nestled in between Sukuna’s legs, the low hum of a movie playing in the background - neither of you were really paying attention. His fingers lazily traced circles into your hip, his chest rising and falling against your back. Realistically, you should’ve taken advantage of this rare occasion, you should’ve been basking in this softness. Because everything was fine. Perfect, even.

Until it wasn’t. 

The sudden thought hits you like a truck. How dare he? 

You stiffen instantly, expression souring as your brows knit together, lips pushing into a pout. A loud, frustrated sigh escapes you, making your displeasure very clear. Sukuna notices the dramatic shift in your mood - because, although he won’t admit it, he pays very close attention to you. His fingers still, eyes flicking down to you. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

“Oi.”

More silence.

His crimson eyes narrow, patience slowly wearing thin. “You were fine not even 5 seconds ago. The fuck is your problem, brat?” The question is punctuated with a squeeze on your waist.

Eyes still fixed onto the TV screen, you mutter something under your breath, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“Hah? Stop mumbling, use your words.”

You finally look up, glaring at him with all the fury you can muster, and repeat yourself, this time loud and clear. “Whore.”

Sukuna blinks. “Excuse me.” 

“Whore.” You scoff, arms crossing.

Sukuna stares at you, clearly trying to process what the hell just came out of your mouth, brows twitching. “The fuck did you just call me?”

“You heard me, whore,” you repeat, voice dripping with betrayal as you scoot away from him like his whorish tendencies were contagious. His expression shifts from confusion to one of mild amusement. “And what exactly did I do to earn that title?”

You whipped around, eyes blazing, “OH I DON’T KNOW?? Maybe the fact that you had like 300 concubines in your past life??” 

He does nothing for a few seconds, brain still buffering before he bursts out laughing. 

Yeah, you just made Sukuna, King of Curses laugh. Truly, you would have been admiring your exceptional feat if you weren’t currently so disgusted by him. 

“Woman, there’s no way you’re mad about some shit that happened centuries ago.”

You gasp loudly, hand flying to your chest like he had just admitted to killing a room full of puppies (which, knowing him, isn’t entirely impossible - but still.) “So you’re not denying it??” 

This man(whore) just stares at you, still baffled at your outburst. “...huh?”

You, on the other hand, were on the brink of losing it. “So, you cheated on me.”

His eye twitched, “You weren’t even fucking alive at the time.” 

You just scoff, shaking your head in utter regret and disappointment, “For the streets before my birth is crazyyy.”

A deep, exhausted sigh makes your head snap up to him, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to try and speak. He would later wish he hadn’t, but alas - he did. 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? ME? I’M the one being ridiculous?? Sorry, remind me which one of us was out there entertaining an entire fucking harem?” You rolled your eyes, the scorn in your voice evident now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly tired of your antics - which, in your mind, were completely valid. 

“Babe, it was a thousand years ago.” This man really needs to learn how to shut his mouth. 

“Oh, so that makes it okay then?” You counter, eyebrows raising accusingly. 

“That’s not what I-”

“You really expect me to be out here cuddling you, knowing you were practically a historical hoe?”

His mouth drops open, at a complete loss for words - look at that, your second feat of the night that you could have been celebrating but noooo your boyfriend just had to be a bop before society even invented the word. 

“What the fuck…” 

And then it hits you. The real tragedy. Yet another scandalised gasp leaves you, your face one of pure horror.

“Oh my god,” you immediately scrambled to the opposite side of the bed, practically pressing yourself against the wall, voice dropping to a whisper. “I was laying on whore thighs.” 

He could only groan, dragging a hand down his face in absolute despair. “I swear to every god out there, I will throw you out of this fucking room.” 

“You probably used that exact line on all your concubines. You didn’t even have one. No, you had MULTIPLE. I can’t believe this. How greedy can one get.”

“Oh my fucking god.” 

You decide you've officially had enough of staring at his stupidly handsome face, so you turn your back to him, facing the wall like a petulant child. Your eyes immediately land on the pictures of you both scattered around, and you barely manage to muffle a scream. “Don’t talk to me.”

This time, his groan was accompanied by both hands dragging down his face. “You cannot be serious right now.” 

You didn’t move. You didn’t even acknowledge him. 

You were determined to see this silent treatment through. 

Sukuna exhales through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment to try and fathom exactly what the fuck had just happened. Before you know it, a strong arm snakes around your waist, effortlessly yanking you back into his chest. “Enough.” He murmurs. 

“No,” you grumble, still pouting. “Go back to your little harem.”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh, so now I’m just a replacement.”

He rolls his eyes, tucking your head under his chin as his thumb draws small comforting circles on your hip. “Woman, I swear-” He mumbled. “You know damn well you’re the only one I give a shit about now. Behave.” 

You mumbled something incoherent into his chest, still sulking (although the way you immediately melted in his embrace said otherwise). But when you felt his lips press against the top of your head, soft and lingering, you supposed you maybe could let this slide… for now.

“...still a whore.”

“For fuck’s sake, I should have just stayed single.”

ᯓ★ notes from star: this idea came to me during a lecture. i was fighting demons to not start writing then but i didnt want anyone seeing 😭 as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!!

also happy mauritius independence day!! 🇲🇺 prettyngeto © 2025. all rights reserved - please do not plagiarise, translate, steal and repost any of my works on any social platforms for whatever reason.

[lxnarphase]

g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

[pseudowho]

"So, you go against the hairs...that's right...and then with the hairs..."

"...is-- is this right?"

"Mmm. Now, clean your blade..."

You pretended to tidy the bedroom, sneaking glances up to Kento, and Yuuji, stood shirtless at the bathroom sink. Both had thickly lathered faces, and sharp razors, examining their faces in the mirror with absolute precision.

Sshhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Peach fuzz.

"...and so anyway, I said to Fushiguro, shadows are great but sometimes you gotta just hit a guy..."

Kento listened, quiet, his mind always calculating several threads while mentoring Yuuji; yet, he was distracted. The old school corridor bathed in orange evening light, setting Yuuji's hair aflame, to coral in rocks. With Yuuji's nattering profile illuminated, the edges of his cheeks blurred from their usual sharp relief.

Fuzzy.

"...like, Kugisaki gets it, but she's like, just a bit feral and..."

Kento wondered if Yuuji had noticed. Kento recalled he only noticed, when his grandfather brushed his jaw with one clawed-over old hand, softly mocking Kento's furry scowl in lilting Danish. Kento's eyes lowered to the floor, counting his own steps and thinking in one, two, three and thoughtful on four, five, six.

"...Gojo's great but it's hard to learn from a guy who's that far out of my league, y'know? So--"

"Itadori-kun."

Kento had stopped, straightening his glasses, looking out onto suburban skyline. Yuuji stopped with him, inquisitive. A train rattled through, distant, splitting through the sunset. Kento looked back to Yuuji.

"It's important to look tidy, at work. Professional."

Yuuji raised his eyebrows, elbows rounded as he held his arms out, looking down at himself. He shot Kento a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Fuzzy peach.

"...ah-- yeah...guess I've always been a bit scruffy, huh? My grandad used to tell me I'd never get a job with hair like this."

Kento hummed. He stepped forwards, and raised one long-fingered, broad hand to gently grasp Yuuji's jaw, tilting it back and forth in the amber glow. Yuuji's bottom lip drew up, his eyes wide in surprise.

"...Nanamin?"

"Has anyone taught you how to shave, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blushed, his eyes flicking away from Kento in a mortified little scowl, his jaw still clasped. Kento released him, clearing his throat and checking his watch.

"I think we're finished up, here. Do you have any evening plans, Itadori-kun?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you need to go over an area again, get more shaving foam-- not that much-- and repeat the steps..."

"...this is...tricky..."

"With regular practice, you can improve any skill, Itadori-kun. Unless you'd like a beard, which still needs management, you'll be shaving every few days, or more."

"...you always...look so tidy..." swshswshswsh.

"It takes effort." Shhhick. Swsh.

"Yeah right. I bet you wake up like that. Tie and all."

A deep, rumbling laugh. Yuuji's foamy, surprised face, looking so boyish.

You slid past the bathroom. You pulled your phone out, surreptitiously clicking a photo. Kento and Yuuji, leaning over the sink while Kento steadfastly instructed him, became your new phone background, and stayed as such for a full year.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Took a lot of portions to send him to bed with a full tummy."

Kento chuckled at you, his hair mussed and soft. Legs crossed in bed, with a book on his lap, he read to the sound of soft snores in the guest bedroom next door. The lamplight, low and warm, illuminated Kento's face in the gloom.

Stubbly.

You reached a hand out, brushing across his jaw, feeling its sandpaper rasp across your fingers.

"I think you were so busy teaching Yuuji," you whispered, scratching Kento's chin as he crumpled his lower lip up, "that you missed some patches yourself. C'mere."

You stood, walking to the bathroom and sitting on the counter, grabbing a razor and shaving foam. Kento's eyes twinkled at you, feigning annoyance. He walked to you at the sink, looking straight into the bones of you. He grasped your thighs, pushing them apart before settling between them, chuckling again as you lathered his face.

Shhhhick. Swshswshswsh. Shhhick-ck-ck. Swshswshswsh.

You felt a growing pressure between your legs as you focused on shaving Kento's jaw. Kento fidgeted, pyjamas tight and tenting. You bit your lip, smirking.

"...Mr.Nanami. I am trying to concentrate."

"Mmm, so am I, but it's...hard."

"Yes. I can feel that."

Another deep rumble of a laugh. Kento grasped your thighs tighter, pressing forwards into you. You gasped, taking the razor from his face as Kento nuzzled shaving foam into your giggling neck.

"Don't stop." He whispered, a crooked smile on his lathered face. "Concentrate, please, Mrs.Nanami."

[bvrnesher]

۶ৎ — A Welcome Gift !

tap here for chb masterlists ! here for reqs info

warnings: heavy making out (percy is starved, okay?) pda, percy getting handsy & kinda dry humping, public beach so espect sand getting everywhere!

ㅤ୨ৎ — ˳ percy jackson ! fem. reader

summary: after months apart, percy is finally back at camp—and the moment he sees reader, he's all over them. Greetings can wait. Right now, all he wants is reader, and a whole lot of making up for lost time.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗗𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 with Percy.

There was no other explanation. He'd been saving Olympus ever since he found out he was a demigod, and what did he get in return? More quests. Nonstop.

The gods were a bunch of idiots. Seriously, they were pros at it. After everything he'd done for them, they still had the audacity to send him on more quest.

Wasn't that some kind of child labor? Sure seemed like it. Well, maybe not child labor anymore, but there was definitely some exploitation going on here.

They had to be joking. You'd think that after saving their godly asses time and time again, they'd at least give him a break. But nope. Overestimating the gods was always a mistake.

And now, finally, Percy was back at camp after yet another quest. Sadly, you hadn't been there to join him—lucky you, right? You weren't even around when he had to pick his team.

Now he was back.

You had just finished unpacking in your cabin and were heading to the beach for some much-needed relaxation. That was the plan... until you saw your boyfriend emerging from the water.

Clasic Percy. Coming back from a quest and just appearing out of nowhere, soaking wet. What else did you expect?

As soon as he spotted you, he sprinted toward you faster than Apollo reciting one of his cringey haikus.

Could you blame him? It had been months since you'd last seen each other. Ignoring his exhaustion, he practically knocked you down into the sand, trapping you beneath him.

You barely had time to process it before his lips took over yours.

A proper greeting? For what? His version of a "hello" was his salty mouth crashing into yours, his wet hair dripping down his jaw and chin, splashing onto your cheeks... and basically your entire face.

"Hey..." Kiss.

"Not now. Talking can wait," he muttered, just before capturing your lips again.

Percy didn’t care about being seen or the lecture that would come afterward. Right now, the only thing on his mind was you. It had been months. MONTHS.

“Mph…m'trying to speak here...” you murmured, trying to talk, but your voice came out weak and breathless.

"Yeah? Well, I’m trying to kiss you here," he responded, nibbling softly on your lower lip in that playful and sexy way that always left you breathless.

You rolled your eyes and shifted positions, now on top of him, pinning him to the sand with one leg on either side of his body.

"Now that’s better," he grinned. The feel of your body molding to his like two puzzle pieces was enough to leave him with a goofy smile, looking at you like you were everything he needed.

And, honestly, you were.

"Much better."

His hands slid under your shirt with a mix of tenderness and desperation, like he was trying to reconnect with you after all the months of separation. Percy's thumb began to trace slow circles on your hips, while his other hand explored a territory he knew by heart.

He looked up at you from beneath, his sea-green eyes locking with yours. Even the sound of the waves crashing against the camp’s beach seemed to fade into the background as you both got lost in the moment. Leaning in, he kissed you languidly.

"I love you..." he whispered.

Percy held your jaw, trying to pull you closer to him, to get as much of you as he could. The hand under your shirt slid to your back, tracing up and down your spine. Playing with the clasp of your bra.

Then—his tongue slipped into your mouth, finding yours. A low breathy moan escaped him and you melted. A soft hum vibrating in your throat.

Percy kissed you just the way Percy was supposed to kiss.

A small whimper slipped from your lips. And that’s when it hit you.

Public.

"Percy,” you tried to protest, but his name came out more like a plea than a complaint.

He smirked against your lips. His fingers toying with the clasp of your bra, teasing. That sound you just made? It should be illegal.

“Yeah, babe?” he murmured. Lips brushing against yours. His breath mixing with yours.

The beach was empty. Just you, him, and the waves. It would’ve been the perfect moment—if you weren’t ruining it.

But your boyfriend knew exactly how to fix that.

“What’s the problem?” he asked softly. His voice dropped an octave, low and smooth, like a secret.

"Percy, we’re in the open—”

“And why should that matter?”

A hand on your hip. A pull. He rolled his hips up, it was subtle. Intentional.

Your breath hitched.

He was hard.

His body was warm. His muscles tense with anticipation as he pressed you down against him. Seeking more of you. A deep, shaky breath left him as his hands roamed your body, slow and purposeful.

“Mhm...” He let his head fall back against the sand, eyes shut, lips parted.

Then, he looked at you. And that look? That look made you shiver.

His voice dropped again. Rougher now. “You... are wearing... way too many clothes.” His hand slipped under your shirt. Tracing the edge of your bra with his fingers. One swift motion and he flipped you over.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, your neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, he sucked gently, right where he knew you liked it.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, voice husky. His eyes roamed over you, taking you in. “Make some room for me.”

He pulled back just enough. His hands found your knees, and he guided them apart, spreading your legs for him. As soon as he had room, he settled between your legs, gently pulling you to him.

A searing heat coursed through your body as Percy caught your wrists and held them above your head, his fingers tangling in the sand around them. His body pressed against yours, his weight enveloping you in the best possible way.

He leaned into you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. His eyes were fixed on your face, devouring your every feature as he drew closer. His gaze slid between your eyes and lips, taking in every detail.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this..." Percy murmured and he began to roll his hips against yours diligently as his lips sucked hickeys on your neck. His body molded perfectly against yours, and a single movement of his hips was enough to leave you dumb.

"Clothes get in the way..." He murmured, tugging at the waistband of your shorts, and you could do nothing but nod before grabbing his chin to kiss him desperately.

By the time the kiss broke, a trickle of saliva connected your swollen lips with his. A lopsided smile splits over his lips that makes your tummy flutter, and he's already thrusting against your clothed pussy.

Your own hips buck against his, and Percy can only let out grunts and curses in your ear at the sensations.

Percy would be ashamed of how he was leaking under his clothes if he wasn't too busy taking your welcome gift to really dwell on it.

NOTE;; I wrote this half-sleep, lol.

[zillychu]

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like “how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:

[missdynamighttt]

you and bf! katsuki waiting for the new year as the both of you stood on the balcony of your shared apartment, overlooking the city. the clock was ticking down to midnight, the fireworks had already begun sparking in the distance, their vibrant colors dancing against the dark sky.

you leaned against the railing, cheeks flushed from the cold. but honestly? maybe it was the way katsuki was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. he had one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other rested casually on the railing next to you, as if keeping you within reach.

“you know,” you began, voice soft but teasing. “i thought you’d have some grumpy commentary about all this.”

katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “what do you want me to say, sweets? it’s just another night.”

“just another night?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “it’s almost the start of a whole new year, katsuki! new beginnings, resolutions, all that cheesy stuff. you know, what you want for the new year.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he looked at you. “i don’t need a new year to tell me what i want.”

your playful smile faltered slightly at the intensity in his tone, “oh? and what do you want, katsuki?”

but before katsuki could answer, the final countdown began, echoing from nearby apartments and the distant streets.

“ten… nine…”

you turned your attention to the sky, her excitement bubbling over, practically jumping up and down her spot. “10 seconds, bub!”

“eight… seven…”

katsuki didn’t take his eyes off you, watching the way your face lit up, your breath visible in the chilly air as he stepped closer to you.

“six… five…”

you glanced at him, catching the look in his eyes. your expression softened, smiling at him. “you’re not even watching the fireworks.”

“four… three…”

“don’t need to,” katsuki said simply, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“two… one…”

the city erupted in cheers, fireworks exploding in the sky in a dazzling display of light and sound. but you barely noticed because katsuki had cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, his lips warm and firm against you. you instantly melt in his arms, your hands resting on his chest.

it wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything he couldn’t put into words. the world seemed to fade away, the fireworks and cheers nothing more than background noise.

when the both of you finally pulled apart, your cheeks were even more flushed, smiling like a lovestruck idiot.

“happy new year, bub. i love you,” you whispered, chuckling breathlessly.

katsuki smiles softly, stroking your cheek. “happy new year, sweets. i love you more."

you smile gently, rising on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. your gaze briefly sweeps over the city before katsuki's voice catches your attention again.

"and sweets?"

"hm?"

"you're the only one i'll want."

you grinned, leaning into his chest as the fireworks continued to burst above them. and as you stood there together, katsuki couldn’t help but think that this was the perfect way to start the year—with you by his side.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ happy new year everyone!! wrote up this quick drabble, will get back to working on my hundreds of drafts jdjdjwjjd 💜💜💜

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men Making Up With You After A Fight

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, FAB!Reader

Content Warning: sex, makeup sex, fighting, public sex, choking, dirty talk!

Word Count: 5,453

A/N: Hot diggity damn, makeup sex time. Gojo’s had me cackling!! As always, requests are open!! I don’t bite. . unless you ask nicely 😈

Gojo Satoru

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you ignored it, much like the other ten times it rang. You instead headed for the concession stand at the theater. Your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, had pissed you off beyond all means. He'd forgotten all about your date. The specific date you had been planning for a month. You intended to celebrate at the fanciest restaurant and made reservations two weeks ago. All for him! Because they had world-class desserts.

You got there before him; they took you to your private table. Where you waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, forty-five minutes later, you called him.

“Hey, babe!” He said over the sound background chatter. “What's up? I'm out at the new cafe with Suguru and Nanami!”

“Oh?” Gritting your teeth, you tapped your nails against the table. “Are you having fun?” The tone of your voice was bitter and cold.

Your boyfriend hesitated, “Uhm yeah, the desserts are delicious.” Rage boiled in your gut.

“You know who else has delicious desserts?” He hummed, but you didn't give him a chance to answer. “The restaurant I'm at! You know the one I made reservations for three weeks ago?!”

You could practically see the fear in your boyfriend's voice. “Oh fuck, shit! That was tonight?! Stay there; I'll be there in a couple of minutes.” Your eyes stung with unshed tears.

“No, you can come, but I won't be here.”

You had done just as you said, quickly paying for your tab before hurrying out of the restaurant before Gojo could teleport there. You crossed the street, heading towards the movie theater. There was not a chance in hell he would find you in here. You were heartbroken; all the effort you put into your date was wasted.

You sat in the very back of the empty theater. You were feeling some ease that there was no one here. Then again, they were playing older movies anyone could stream nowadays. You seriously doubted anyone would be joining you to watch Titanic. You could zone out, cool down, and try to figure out what to say to Satoru the next time you see him.

As the opening credits started to play, you heard a door slam open. Peeking down, you choked on popcorn as you noticed your boyfriend scanning the theater. Bright blue eyes seemed to glow as he held his blindfold in one hand. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin stupid Six-Eyes! Those blue eyes instantly found you, and you could see the relief wash over Satoru. You hid your face behind the bucket of popcorn, internally groaning as you heard him bounding up the stairs.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you wait for me?!” You ignored him, slowly lowering the bucket to stare at the movie screen. “Hey, hello?”

“Shh!” You scolded before stuffing more popcorn in your mouth. Avoiding his questions altogether.

His shoes stepped over the soda-sticky floor, blocking your view of the screen. “We need to talk.” His hand gently reached out, index finger lifting your chin to look up at him.

“Fuck you.” You said, getting up and moving further down the row, plopping down in a seat.

“Y/N baby!” The groan he let out had you rolling your eyes. “Please, I’m sorry I forgot!” He bounded after you, only for you to get up stepping into the lower row. Your action had Gojo stopping in his tracks, the two of you staring at each other. “Are you playing keep away?”

A rich laugh escaped him, one that was full of humor and delight. It had him hunching over as he cackled. You hated it, but you found your smile tugging at your lips. Here he was, groaning and whining like a child, and you weren’t any better. You were running away from him, pouting like a toddler that didn’t get their way.

Gojo’s laughter the tears forming in his eyes, had your heart feeling lighter. God, he was such a cutie. A cutie who forgot all about your date. A date you’d spent time, money, and energy on! All for his benefit. Holy shit, the Gojo charm almost had you forgiving him!

“No!” You snapped, stomping down your foot like the mature adult you were. “Shut up! I’m mad at you.”

Turning to head further down the row, you gasped as Satoru jumped over the row, landing right in front of you. “Look, just give me a chan—“ he started before you threw a handful of popcorn in his face, “okay, and here I thought I was the immature one.” His tongue darted out, licking at the salty butter off the corner of his mouth.

“You are! Toru, seriously! I put all that time and effort into planning that for you!!” You threw another piece directly at his forehead. He allowed the abuse with the popcorn to continue. He was staring at you as you tossed another piece at him.

“Are you done now?” He asked as you hugged the bucket to your chest. “Awesome, cool.” He reached out, ruffling your hair. “I can’t make up for missing the date that I seriously appreciate you planning and paying for. I can, however, make the most out of the night I fucked up.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” You flung one more piece of popcorn at him. It hit infinity before he snatched the bucket from you, placing it in one of the empty chairs.

“You’ll see.” A childlike smile was plastered across his face as he ran down the stairs, grabbing two bags before running back up to you. “We might not be at the fanciest of restaurants.” Your heart soared as he held out a take-out bag from the restaurant where you had made reservations. “But dinner and the Titanic?” He learned by pressing his forehead against yours. “Sounds like a great fuckin’ date to me.”

Taking the bag out of Satoru’s hands, you sighed, your fingers grazing over his longer ones. He didn’t have to pick up dinner from the restaurant you planned to take him to. Satoru didn't even need to try to find you when he knew you were angry, yet here he was—trying to prove to you just how sorry he was. Those were some of the things you loved about him. Cocky, annoying, and charming in more ways than one.

With your free hand, you grab onto Satoru’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Has anyone told you that you're a charming asshole?” Seeing your smile, Satoru let out a sigh of relief before intertwining your fingers.

“Nope, that one's new.”

“Don't push it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He grabbed the popcorn bucket before following you back to the top row. The two of you cracked open the takeout containers, eating the delicious food while whispering as you watched the movie.

Halfway through the food and movie, you hummed, watching the infamous steamy car scene before you turned to Satoru, who yawned. “Hey, Toru.” he tilted his head, turning to look down at you. “Do you think we could recreate this scene?” He perked up. “In a veil?”

“Oh, holy fuck!” You yelled, hand gripping Satoru’s shoulder as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, oooh fuck!”

Your boyfriend's head was tilted back against the chair. Whines and whimpers escaped his pressed lips as you slammed yourself up and down as hard and as fast as you could. The tiny viel Satoru had put around the two of you was keeping you concealed, and the heat within the small space.

The thick, musky, almost sweet smell of sex was getting to you, making you hotter and hornier. Knowing the two of you were fucking in such an open space, without people knowing, God, it was so hot. You were going to fuck Toru’s brains out as both punishment for forgetting your date and for making it one you would never forget.

“Y/N, please,” Satoru cried out, “please fuck.”

“Please, what, Toru~?” You cooed, rocking yourself back and forth on his dick, making his jaw drop into a wide ‘O’. “Tell me what you want baby~”

“I wanna cum; I wanna cum in your pussy.” He begged, his hands groping and massaging your breasts. “Please, baby~?”

You giggle just before you can respond to the people entering the theater. The cleaning ushers, no doubt. Your body seized up, clamping down on Satoru’s cock, causing him to growl. Your hand flew up, covering his mouth as you listened to the staff talking. While they couldn’t see you, the thought of strangers walking around while you had sex, god, it made you wetter than wet.

Keeping your hand over Satoru’s mouth, you fucked yourself down on him like he was your own personal dildo. His whines grew louder under your hand as he gripped your ass, helping you fuck yourself on him. He was so close, so, so close.

All he needed was a little push. That push is your twitching cunt. You rocked faster, your free hand resting over his chest, as you felt your orgasm coming in fast before your back arched. A silent scream etched your face as you came hard. Satoru gaped into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed together, as one hand gripped your ass and the other smacked into the veil.

Or rather, through it.

A bloody murder scream came from one of the workers as a disembodied hand popped out of thin air. The co-workers followed her out, screaming and yelling. At the same time, Satoru pulled his hand back inside the veil. The two of you were coming down, your bare chest resting against his. You just stared at each other for a long moment before you both started to giggle loudly.

“G-Guess the handprint scene doesn't work well in the veil.” Satoru chuckled, cupping strands of hair behind your ear.

“Guess not.” Was your confirmation, as you slowly pulled yourself off of Satoru’s lap with a wince. “Such a shame. I was hoping for better results.”

“Hmm, it might not work with the veil, but I have an idea where we could try because I’m not done yet. I still haven't apologized to you in the way you deserve.”

“Oh?” You both picked up your trash and readjusted your clothes as Satoru lowered the veil.

“Yeah, I wanna apologize to you in the shower, in our bed, fuck even the balcony.” The two of you ran for the exit door. “It's a good thing that the restaurant you picked out is known for the aphrodisiac desserts.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oooh, sweetie,” Satoru sneered down at you with a mischievous chuckle.“Why do you think I kept bugging you to take me to that restaurant?”

It was going to be a very long night for you.

Nanami Kento:

“Damn!” The soft curse woke you up; you rubbed your eyes, watching your fiancè searching for something on the dresser.

“Kento?” Your groggy voice drew his attention towards you. “Welcome home.”

Your beloved fiance had been gone for two weeks. He'd just gotten home last night; Gojo had picked him up for you. You had been working your ass off for the previous two weeks. You picked up the work of another co-worker who had just walked out without notice. Gojo knew you had been running around for two weeks filing paperwork, assigning missions, and helping Shoko. He was instant on you getting some sleep. He assured you he'd get Nanami, and you were thankful for him doing that for you.

This way, you could spend more time with Kento.

“Where are my cufflinks?” Nanako snapped, his eyes full of annoyance.

His tone had you blinking in stunned silence. “Right there,” you motioned to the box he always kept them in, “was your mission rough?” That would explain his cold, sharp tone.

“Yes, Y/N, it was rough.” He opened the box, grabbing the links before slamming it shut. “You wouldn't understand.”

His words sliced through you like a hot knife. “Excuse me?” You three the sheets off your body, standing to face him. “What the hell do you mean I wouldn't understand?!” Nanami Kento rolled his eyes at your anger.

“I'm simply stating the truth. You don't understand what it's like to go out on missions, fight, and do more than paperwork.” His hand ran through his still-damp hair. “So I'm just trying to understand why you couldn't pick me up last night. Gojo told me that you were burning the candle at both ends. I fail to see how that is even possible.”

The bedroom was nearly silent. The only sound that you could hear over the boiling rage was your heartbeat in your ears. “Get out of my way.” Was all you could manage as you pushed past him, digging through your drawers for clothes.

“Honestly, why are you acting like a child?”

“Why are you acting like a dick?!” Nanako was seconds from snapping back, but his words evaded him when he saw you crying. “You have no idea how hard my job is!” Your hands wiped uselessly at the stream of tears. “My worthless coworker quit. So I'm stuck doing my job and hers!”

“Y/N.”

“Yes! I do loads of paperwork, and I sit in front of a computer most of my day.” You pulled on your pants, stepping out of Nanami’s grasp. “It may not be physically demanding, but in a mental aspect, I'm drained. Paperwork, mission assignments, and death notices!” Honey-brown eyes went wide. “Yeah, that's why my coworker quit! She couldn't handle it!”

“Love, I—”

You held a hand up, silencing Nanami. “So last night, Gojo picked you up instead of me because I was in Kyoto. Telling a mother and father that their eighteen-year-old son died!” Flashes of Yu Haibara flashed through Nanami’s eyes.

He could barely handle his death, imagining what his parents went through. When someone in your position told them that their child was gone, he couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Emotionally and mentally draining. He had no idea how much your job consisted of because you hardly brought it up. More concerned with him.

“Y/N, I had no clue—”

“No, fuck you.” You turned on your heel, racing for the door. “Welcome home! Kindly go fuck yourself.” With those words, you left, leaving Nanami alone in your apartment.

It took you a couple of hours to cry out your feelings. The exhaustion and stress of the last two weeks hit you all at once with Nanami’s cruel words. He had no clue what you went through without him here. It didn't matter if he was just as exhausted as you were. Both of you had been ground to bones in two weeks apart.

Despite all of those factors, he still had no right to talk to you the way he had.

But as much as you wanted to stay away from him, your apartment, reality, you had to go back. Your engagement ring glimmered as a stupid reminder, even if he had crossed a line today. Nanami was still the love of your life.

The second you unlocked the door to the apartment, you sighed. “I'm home.” Your voice was barely audible.

Just as you finished removing your shoes, you looked up to see Nanami. His cheeks and neck flushed as he looked at the floor. Your fiance looked like a dog that had been scolded, as he should. Despite wanting to throw yourself into his arms and cry out your frustration, to hit, to beg him to hold you tight, you just walked past him.

Entering your living room, your heart lurched into your throat as you gasped. A large bouquet of roses is on your coffee table, surrounded by all your favorite snacks. The words ‘I’m Sorry’ were spelled in rose petals on the floor.

You had thought you were incapable of crying anymore, yet fresh tears spilled over your tear-stained cheeks. Nanami’s body looked over you, his hands hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. To Nanami’s relief, you didn't attempt to pull away.

“Y/N, I'm so, so, sorry.” you leaned back into his chest, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “The way that I acted this morning was utterly disgusting. I took my frustration and anger out on you, the last person I should ever hurt.” His fingers began kneading and rubbing at your sore muscles. “Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? For being an irrational ass?”

”A major ass.” Nanami’s whole body relaxed at your soft voice.

He turned you around to face him, his strong arms holding you flush against him. “Yes, a total and complete asshole.” Once your arms wrapped around his waist, he fully relaxed. ”Are you okay?” His smooth voice whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, I just want you.”

Pulling away to look up at him, he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. “Yeah? Do you need me to help you fall asleep?” His hand trailed down, gripping your hips. Your nod was the only confirmation he needed.

Sprawled out over the bed, candles burning, soft music playing, you gasped and whimpered. Nanami’s face was buried between your thighs, kissing and sucking at your drenched folds. Those honey-brown eyes that had been filled with concern and worry earlier were now drowning in lust. His needs could wait until later. This was all about you, making you feel better.

”Fuck Ken!” Your fingers grazed over his undercut before gripping the longer strands of hair. “Don’t stop, please, fuck.” Obeying your wishes, Kento’s tongue moved faster. Sucking and slurping at you. Quenching the thirst he had been craving for the last two weeks. “Yes, yes, yes!’

Feeling your cunt clenching, Kento shoved two fingers inside of you, his tongue focusing on your clit. You gasped, eyes wide as his two fingers rubbed expertly against your g-spot. You swore he nearly sent you to heaven as white spots flooded your vision. You screamed before squirting all over his face. The sensation, the taste of your cum had him rutting his hips into the mattress. His tongue did not once let up. It was your orgasm, the content sigh that left your lips that had him stiffening. His cock spurting cum all within the confines of his boxers and sweats.

Your dazy eyes trailed down over your nude body, focusing on Kento’s rutting form. Humping the mattress until the last waves of both of your orgasms came to an end. Kento hummed, his voice vibrated against your still trembling pussy. When he found the strength to pull away, You smiled as he trailed soft kisses up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest before finally landing on your lips.

You kiss back softly, his arms pulling you close as he pulls you to lay on his chest. His hands gently caressed up and down your back, a slight frown gracing his face. “Ken,” you kiss his chest, “it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it anymore.” His eyes glanced at you before back at the ceiling, his fingers never once pausing.

“I know, I just, I didn’t know your job consisted of so much.” His eyes shut tight, eyebrows scrunching together. “You do all those reports, help Shoko, inform families of deaths, and on top of that, you take care of our home.”

His words from over, repeated over and over, on a loop. Just a desk job? You didn’t know what he went through. When it was the other way around, he didn’t know what you went through daily. His words were cold and cruel. All because he had taken his exhaustion and frustration out on you. The most important person in his life.

Your slender finger gently rubbed up and down the bridge of his nose. Grounding him, pulling him out of the deep void of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he was met with your glimmering Y/E/C eyes. Your sleepy gaze and gentle smile had his heart clenching in his chest.

”Ken, it’s okay. You didn’t know, much like I don’t know about all of the struggles you go through.” Your gentle touch had him relaxing against the mattress. “Let’s just agree not to downplay each other again. We both work hard, every day, to make this life for us to share.” Slowly pulling your hand away, you leaned up, kissing his lips. “As long as we come home to each other at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Kento smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Y/N.” Your warm, tired smile had him melting. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Kento.” You whispered against his lips.

Ryomen Sukuna:

You loved your boyfriend, really you did. But for the last week, he’d been almost insufferable. His younger brother Yuuji was on Spring break. His best friend Megumi had invited him to join him and his family for the week on the beach. Sukuna all but packed Yuuji’s bags for him, ushering the twerp out of the apartment before locking it up, heading to spend the week with you.

It was like his own personal spring break away from his brothers.

Which also was the start of a week from hell for you. At first, the weekend was lovely. The two of you stayed in, had crazy, animalistic sex, and just enjoyed each other. But when Monday rolled around and you left for work, things took a turn.

You came home to find Sukuna’s clothes all around the room, the dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and he was snoring on the couch. At first, you were upset. The poor guy was raising his young brother while their other brother, Choso, was on vacation with some college friends. Sukuna truly did bust his ass for his brothers, so it made sense that he was beat.

So you let it go, picked up, washed the dishes, and made the two of you dinner. It had been somewhat annoying, but it was alright. You wanted to make sure Sukuna got as much rest as he could before he went back to work the following week.

Tuesday afternoon, you came home to a similar situation: clothes everywhere, dishes in the sink, only Sukuna had just returned from the gym. When he got home, he started helping you before taking a shower. Maybe he had just been so interested in getting to the gym that he forgot to do the dishes. That sort of thing happened when you were in a rush, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But when you got home today, it was the same damn story. You looked around the apartment, groaning out loud as Sukuna scrolled briefly through Netflix. There were empty soda cans, trash, and, of course, his gym clothes all over the floor. This was not the man you knew.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your sharp tone had him turning in your direction. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch on Netflix?” He raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious what he was doing.

“I can see that!” You scrubbed a hand over your face. “I meant all the trash, clothes, and everything!”

“Oooh,” he looked around the apartment, “I’ll get to it.”

You tugged at your hair with an exasperated groan. “That’s not the point! Why are you trashing the place to begin with?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“So?!” Your tone had his full attention now. “When I have a day off, I don’t trash your place.”

Sukuna pinched at the bridge of his nose with a grumble. “Are we seriously going to fight about this?” He narrowed his gaze at you, those eyes you normally adored full of irritation. Irritation that had no right to even be there!

“Yes, we are! How is it fair that I make us breakfast, go to work, come home, and make dinner? On top of that, you expect me to come home and pick up your trash and clothes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.” The answer that came out of his mouth far faster than you thought. “I mean, that’s your job. It’s what you’re good at.” Sukuna rolled a shoulder as he twirled the remote between his fingers. “I exercise spirits, and you—“ He finally turned, seeing the rage and darkening of your cheeks. “You—are good at caring for the house and cooking.”

Oh, he’d fucked up.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you scoffed and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door. Sukuna winced and turned his head to face your room. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words. He had meant to say, well, that you were a good caretaker, wifey material. Now that he was looking around the room, truly taking in the state of your usually well-kept home, your words were beginning to settle in his gut.

Had he been that lazy and messy? The take-out containers, his gym clothes, and empty cans confirmed that, yes, he had. Ever since his brothers left, he didn’t have to move constantly. He didn’t have to take Yuuji to school, helping Choso with homework. He had time to himself, where he didn’t have to ensure everything was in tip-top shapes. This was a chance for him to mellow out and relax.

He’d wanted to spend this mellow time with you, his girlfriend, the most amazing woman he’d ever met. But instead, he’d gotten lazy, stuck in a rut of not having to do such a damn thing. This wasn’t how he normally acted, so why now? Fuck, and to tell you you were nothing but a maid, that it was your job. Yeah, no, he totally fucked up.

You were his girlfriend, partner, and the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Most of his other partners hadn’t been able to handle the fact he was a single dad. He had raised his two brothers, just the three against the world. But you, god, you were an angel. You helped him out, making dinners and teaching him the best ways to cook and stir certain foods, which grocery stores had the best sales. You had made him a better man, a better brother.

And he’d gone and turned himself into a shitty boyfriend, trashing your apartment, making misogynistic comments, hurting you. He had to fix this. Or he might very well end up losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Without a second thought, he got up, executing his plan.

You needed an hour and a half to yourself before you had completely calmed down. You glanced at your reflection, whipping at your tear-stained cheeks before entering the living room. All you needed to do was grab something to eat and go back to bed. When you walked out into the messy living room, you stopped.

The trashed room scattered with clothes was completely picked up, and the coasters and books were neatly put back into place. Sukuna was nowhere to be found. So you headed into the kitchen, which was also spotless. No crumbs were on the counters, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away. There was still no sign of Sukuna.

Part of you was still angry and didn’t want to see him. The other part of you wanted to thank him and hear what he had to say. Just as you were pulling your phone out to call him, your door opened. Sukuna stepped in with a bag of takeout. He took his shoes off, placing them where they were supposed to go before he locked the door.

“Suku?” He jumped, startled by your voice. But he slowly turned to you, giving you a remorseful smile.

“Hey,” he put the takeout on the counter, “Y/N, I—“ his cheeks flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know I’m not the best with apologies, and I suck at fucking using my words.” With a heavy sigh, he grabbed your hand. “But what I said earlier was fucked up, and I’m sorry. I don’t see you as some maid, I just.” You couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want you ever to feel like I don’t appreciate everything you do. You’ve made me a better man, and I unfortunately haven’t been like that this week.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement as you interlaced your fingers with his. “Yeah, you’ve been a manchild. Yuuji would have been more mature than you.” He cringed, dropping his head down. “Then again, you did clean up your mess and pick me some dinner.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “So maybe you haven’t been as bad as you think.” Sukuna was leaning in to kiss you, but you squeezed his hand tighter and tighter until it was almost painful. “But if you ever tell me it’s my job to take care of you or the chores again, I’ll put you in my trunk and help people look for you.”

Your boyfriend winced before nodding in understanding. “Right, yes, understood.” The second your hand softened, he pulled you towards the bedroom. “Come on.” You blushed, watching his back. His neck was a soft, rosy color.

“What are we doing?”

“You’re not doing anything.” He said, pushing you back against the bed. “I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Oh, and Sukuna did just that. He licked and sucked on your clit until you came. His fingers slammed in and out of you, fucking you until you squirted all over his hand. His smirk was sinister and hungry each time you came. Only when you were fucked out of your mind did he decide to fuck you with his cock.

“Please~ please, Suku~” You panted as he rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance. “Please.”

“Why are you begging?” He grunted as he slid his entire length into you. “You want my cock that bad.” He smirked at your tiny whimpers, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Yes, yes, I want it.” You grabbed his hand, and he went to hold it, only to watch as you placed it over your throat. “Give it to me.” You felt his cock throb inside of you.

He squeezed without having to be told twice. “Such a dirty slut I have.” He squeezed harder as he pulled out. “Here I’m trying to be romantic.” He slammed into you, the bed creaking under the force. “And my slutty little Y/N wants me to fuck her pussy like I normally do.” You whimpered, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s the best way to show you how much you mean to me, right? Fuckin’ that tight cunt until you can’t walk. Making sure you’re ruined, only I can satisfy you and your needs.” He grabbed your thighs, pressing them to your chest, forcing you into a mating press.

“K-Kuna!” You cried out as he released your throat, his hands fisting the sheets.

“That’s right, scream my fuckin’ name.” He groaned, pressing a searing kiss against your swollen lips. “Scream it, let everyone know how much your boyfriend appreciates you, how good he fucks you.”

His words, the deep thrusts, and your already sensitive pussy clenched. “I-I’m so close.” You cried out, eyes locked on Sukuna’s.

His hips sped up, cock throbbing hard as he growled. “Go on then, cum for me again.” You screamed as he slammed harder and harder into you, sending you over the edge. Your screams were muffled by Sukuna’s growls as he kissed you desperately, fucking you through your orgasm right into his own.

He stilled, lips pressing harder against you as his hit cum filled you. Your soft whines of pleasure had Sukuna’s hips moving slowly until he was sure your pussy was done milking him. Pulling back, Sukuna panted, smirking at the blissed-out look in your eyes—a look he always wanted to see.

“Love you, Suku.” You breathed out, leaning up and kissing him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. But his large hand cupped your face.

“And I love you and everything you do for me.” Without another word, his lips were on yours, his hips slowly rutting against yours. He intended to make you know just how much you meant to him. Even if that meant you’d have to call out of work tomorrow.