#crack and fluff

[cookiesauces]

Of Tattoos & Roses

Florist!Nezha X Tattoo Artist!Ao Bing (8487 words)

Ao Bing took off his helmet, releasing his long, luscious hair with a bright laugh and Nezha almost fell to his knees at his new-found god.

To avoid instantaneously asking for his hand in marriage, Nezha's mouth opened to blurt out, “I want a tattoo,” instead. 

Read more on AO3!

[amomentwiser]

Criminal Couture

After he quits being a cop, Will Graham becomes a tailor instead of joining the FBI. One fateful night, when he accidentally catches the Chesapeake Ripper mid-kill, two things cross his mind:

1) goddamn he’s hawt, and 2) That plastic coverup is ugly as fuck.

Human dismemberment is fine, but Will draws the line at crimes against fashion. Instead of turning Hannibal to the police, Will turns up at his house a week later and offers to… outfit him? Hannibal feels confused and stabby, but also intrigued enough to let him live — for now.

Or,

Tailor!Will decides to approach the most dangerous serial killer in history and critique his fashion choices. Will he make it out alive?

('Yes' to alive, 'No' to making it out of Hannibal’s home — he’s keeping Will now.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65102338/chapters/167423863

New fic!

Turns out there is only one thing in this world that fuels me -- it is not fame, only partially money, and definitely not making my parents proud -- it is external validation in the form of AO3 comments. I'd snort that shit like a child star at their first Hollywood party if I could.

So since y'all liked my previous fic here's another one as positive reinforcement to Pavlov y'all into showering me with more praises.

Also this one is pure crack, so fun times ahead!

[marvelmaniac715]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Third Doctor/The Master (Delgado), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Third Doctor & Jo Grant, Jo Grant & The Master (Delgado) Characters: The Doctor (Doctor Who), The Master (Doctor Who), Third Doctor (Doctor Who), The Master (Delgado), Jo Grant Additional Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor Summary:

When the Doctor and Jo get lost during a long drive in Bessie, Jo sees no other solution except to call her emergency contact… the Master.

————————————————————————

This oneshot is based on the real-life story from behind the scenes on Doctor Who where, apparently, Jon Pertwee and Katy Manning got lost in Bessie whilst they were filming driving scenes, and only returned to the BBC just before the search party was mounted to find them. I just thought I’d give it a Whovian twist along with some Thoschei content and Jo Grant being her amazing self.

[edupunkn00b]

Mise Out of Place

Edited photo. Original by Icons8 Team via Unsplash.

mise en place (ˌmē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs) noun Borrowed from French. A culinary process in which ingredients are prepared and organized (as in a restaurant kitchen) before cooking Also : the set of ingredients prepared using this process

Written for @starlocked01 for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange. I hope you enjoy this mix of crack and fluff with some elements unexpectedly made canon by last week's video.

Many thanks to the developmental beta reader, "Some Guy," who provided invaluable assistance and cheerleading with this story. Fluff is hard, y'all.

WC: 2k (okay, almost 2K) - Rated: T for a bit of swearing - CW: fluff, crack, and a hint of Remus-y imagery - [ AO3 ] -

“And… we’re live!”

“Thanks, Freddie,” Roman muttered, just out of earshot of the lavaliere mics pinned to Patton's and Remus' aprons.

“Maybe after his glow up,” Janus murmured, equally quietly.

Patton grinned at the camera, the edge of Janus’ hat fuzzy and barely visible past the glare of the ring light. “Hey there, Kiddos—”

“I’m Remus!” Said Side jumped into the frame, one long arm draped over Patton’s shoulders. Instead of looking at the camera, he stared expectantly at Patton, his grin far, far too wide.

Patton nodded, his own smile still plastered on. “And I’m your Happy Pappy Patton!”

Remus leaned closer and they said in unison, “And welcome to Messers en Place!”

Janus’ hat bobbed on the other side of the camera and Patton’s smile brightened. They’d practiced and practiced—and practiced—their video intro, each time failing to be in sync. Even Patton had begun to fear they’d have to rewrite it. But this time, when it mattered, really mattered, they did it!

“And what are we making today, Pattycake?” Remus prompted him when he failed to say his next line.

“Oh, right! To-daay…” He drew out his words as he looked around the ingredients oh-so-carefully spread out over the countertop. Mise en place, Roman had called it. Logan had tried to hide his surprise behind a little fumble with his glasses, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Logan’s eyes had widened.

“Ahem, well, yes, Roman is correct,” he'd finally managed. Remus bounced on his toes next to Patton, picking up each tiny bowl and sniffing at its contents.

“Careful there, Ro Bro,” he'd cackled. “Nerdy Wolverine’s gonna bust a nut with you knowing things.”

“I am not—”

“Hey, Pattycake, what’s this one?” Winking, Remus pulled him back into the present moment and shoved a bowl of brown spices into his hands.

“Oh, um…” Patton sniffed carefully. “It’s cumin, Remus.”

“Well, if you insist…” he began, reaching for his belt.

“Remus!” Roman cried, bonking his brother's head with the boom mic.

“Muse, not now, boy,” Janus murmured from the other side of the room.

Virgil groaned from his perch at the top of the refrigerator, silently tapping the sides of the fire extinguisher in his lap. “Are we sure having these two do a cooking show was a good idea for the stream?”

“Of course it is!” Remus and Roman said together. 

And it really was a good idea. The twins had blurted out the concept together during a brainstorming session and even Logan had agreed this would be first in their livestream series. He'd even suggested the name.

So here they were, the two of them, about to cook. Together.

They could do this. Patton could do this.

Remus’ smile had grown too wide again, eyebrows arched high.

Right, the cumin.

“We’re making spaghetti and meatballs,” Patton remembered his line and smiled at the camera.

“Balls,” Remus muttered under his breath, shoulders dancing.

Patton gasped and sneezed into the little bowl, spraying cumin up into the air and all over his face.

“Oh, I gotcha, Daddy—”

“Remus!” Roman lowered the boom mic with an offended huff only he could manage to sound princely. 

“Aw, Kiddo!” His catigan sleeves were safely tucked beneath his apron, but he brushed them clean anyway. Remus whipped out a concerningly clean handkerchief from under his sash and dabbed at Patton’s face. 

“It’s sweet,” Patton smiled at Roman just off camera.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Roman muttered.

“You don’t get paid at all, Princey!”

“Need I remind you all we’re still live?” Logan hissed from the hallway.

“It’s fine, Logan, dear,” Janus murmured, tapping the laptop just out of frame. Comments scrolled up the screen faster than they'd ever been. “The viewers are eating it up.”

Logan frowned at the screen for a long moment before shrugging. “He’s right. Okay, carry on."

Face now clean, Patton nodded and carried a big stock pot to the sink. “Right, first step is to start the water. Remus, will you—”

“One step ahead of you, Daddy!” Patton barely made out his words over the rush of the faucet.

And the crash just behind him.

Patton swung around, water sloshing out of the pot and onto the floor. “Remus!”

Remus had shoved all the measured ingredients to the far edge of the counter. Spices and oil spilled over the plate of ground meat and the long loaf of italian bread was broken in half. A wedge of parmesan had impaled the softening butter and the head of garlic had rolled onto the floor. At the center of the counter was a giant neon green air fryer into which Remus had jammed the entire—sealed—box of linguini and a jar of sauce. "Oh, and Merry Christmas, by the way. Thought you could use one of these babies!" he said, slapping the top of the device. "Hm… I wonder if I could fit one of those in here, too…"

“Wait, Remus, no—” Patton dropped the stock pot and reached out as Remus cranked the air fryer up to 500°F and slammed the start button. 

“Well, it was nice having a kitchen,” Virgil muttered and pulled the pin from the extinguisher, nozzle aimed directly at the air fryer.

“No, it’s fine,” Patton said, voice cracking even as he grinned up at Virgil.  “Don’t worry, Kiddo, everything will be—”

The air fryer beeped and the scent of burning paper filled his nose. He rushed toward the counter, hands outstretched to unplug the fryer, but his heel skidded on the wet floor and he slammed into Remus’ back instead.

“Hey, if you wanted to dance, Pattycake…” Remus spun around, catching him before he fell. “You could’ve just said so!”

“Remus!” Patton cried, clinging to his tunic as thick black smoke and the flicker of orange flames erupted out of the appliance. “Fire!”

With the grace of a cat and accompanied by a woosh of extinguisher foam, Virgil jumped down and doused the air fryer, the counter and most of Patton and Remus with the fire retardant. 

A spark caught on the edge of Virgil’s hoodie sleeve and the mic squealed as Roman dropped the boom and rushed over to smother it.

“Princey, I’m fine! Let’s get the rest of this—”

“Shit!” Roman swore as he slipped on the spreading puddle of water and extinguisher foam in the center of the room. Virgil grabbed him by his sash, pulling him to his feet.

“Gotcha, your Highnessness.”

Off camera, Logan slid closer to Janus. “Are we still filming?”

“Mm-hm. Wine?” he asked, offering a large goblet he’d procured from… somewhere.

Eyebrow raised, Logan accepted the glass and took a slow sip. “Out of everything in the kitchen, this is what you chose to save?”

“Why, yes, of course," he murmured before finishing his own glass and refilling it.

“Acceptable.”

~

Long after the livestream ended and the kitchen was—mostly—put back into order, the Sides called it a night and, one-by-one sauntered off to bed.

All the Sides but Remus, at least. Well, and Patton.

Remus had waited until everyone else's room had grown quiet and the lights spilling out from under each Side’s door had clicked off. A flickery bluish glow remained under Virgil’s door, but he typically wouldn’t actually fall asleep for another few hours anyway.

Patton’s door, though… Patton’s door had remained closed tight, without even the usual fairy lights brightening the edges of the door frame. And without the happy little sounds of his bedtime playlist.

Patton hadn’t gone to bed.

Taking more care than usual, Remus slipped off his boots and crept downstairs, skipping the creaky third and fifth steps. The living room, kitchen, and hall were dark, the patio door closed and locked with the blinds drawn tight. The clock on the microwave cast long, faint shadows over the kitchen floor and Remus spotted a bit of movement followed by a tiny sound.

He held his breath and waited. There it was again, a soft sniffle.

Dropping to the floor, Remus peered under the kitchen table. Patton sat hunched in the far corner, sweater-clad arms hugging his knees to his chest.

“Oh, hi, Kiddo,” he mumbled, wiping his cheeks against his forearms. “Can’t sleep?” he asked as though Remus was the one hiding alone in the dark.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing, Pattycake.”

“Oh…” Patton didn’t explain what the fuck he was doing down there, cardigan pulled over his potassium bicarbonate and cumin—ha!—stained apron. He just sort of looked down at his hands and pulled his legs up closer to him. Almost like he was making room.

Remus clambered under the table next to him, not quite touching but close enough to smell the smoke in Patton’s hair and clothes. Remus' own clothes smelled like his experiment upstairs and he inhaled the plasticy, acrid scent of burnt dyes and the forever chemicals from the extinguisher. It was even better than the fires for making s’mores at Thomas’ summer camp as a kid.

Remus wiggled his toes, watching Patton from the corner of his eye. He’d tucked his face close to his knees but his cheeks glimmered with new, silent tears. Remus breathed in again. The kitchen would reek of smoke for a long time after this.

“C-A-M—”

“Maybe later?” Patton sniffled. “I’m just not in the mood to sing right now, Kiddo.”

“You sure about that?” Remus scooted a little closer and bumped their shoulders together. “It’ll help if you just sing along…” He waited, watching Patton tap his foot, toes squelching in his still-sopping shoes. 

“C-A-M-P…” he began again, slower this time.

“F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song,” Patton sang softly.

“C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song…” Remus repeated.

A little smile cracked across the other Side’s face, softer and more real than it had been all day. “The C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G song.” Patton took a breath like he was about to jump into the next verse but he frowned, nose scrunched. “It still smells like burnt air fryer in here, huh?”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, nodding his head with a grin. “We made our mark.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, curling over his knees again.

“Aw, Daddy-o,” Remus bumped his shoulder. “Is that why you’re hiding under here? ‘Cause of the fire?”

“Well, yeah,” Patton frowned, staring back at him. “I really wanted to make a great video. I wanted to… you know… make Thomas proud.”

“Fuck, Pattycake, we did! Have you seen the comments?”

Patton just shook his head so Remus sank them both down into his room where he’d left his laptop open to the video page. Views and comments continued to pour in, hours after the stream had ended. “Look!” he demanded, pushing Patton down into a mostly clean chair.

The Moral Side read quietly, eyes growing wider with each scroll. “They… they liked us?”

“Yeah they did!” Remus slapped his back. “So, whaddya say we make Elf Spaghetti next time? We can even add some Crofters to please the nerd.” Patton’s stomach grumbled and Remus’ grin grew. “You know… we never did eat dinner, Pattycake. How about we give it a trial run tonight?”

“Race you to the kitchen!” Patton laughed and sank down through the floor.

“Hey, that’s cheating!”

[rebelmeg]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) Additional Tags: Pepper is absolutely the kinky one in that relationship, and Tony worships at her feet, Sharing Clothes, Sort Of, Suggestive Themes, Uncle James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Awesome Pepper Potts, Rhodey is So Done, Tony has stars in his eyes, Fluff and Crack Series: Part 28 of Iron Family Summary:

Pepper really understands her husband. Both his possessive caveman side, and his nostalgic pack rat side. Rhodey would really rather not hear about it at all.

Notes: For my @tonystarkbingo​ square K5 - music, @anyfandomfluffbingo​ O5 - "You made this for me?", and @mfbingo​ O3 - marriage!

[allegra-writes]

"And They Were Roommates" Part I

Armand x Daniel Molloy

All Human, Roommates AU

General Audiences

Warnings: None. Crack, canon Devil's minion shenanigans. Armand being mischievous and slutty. Simp!Daniel. Female character under outstanding amounts of stress. Graphic depiction of early 2000s technology. Graphic description of internship work. This fic has mentions of Britney Spears' motion picture "Crossroads" so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't click on this fic. I am not responsable for your media consumption.

Alice suspects something more than friendship is going on between her boyfriend and his weirdly hot roommate.

MY MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: The roomie

Alice didn’t know what she had expected when Daniel invited her to hang out at his place instead of going out that evening, but it certainly wasn’t this. Although, admittedly in hindsight, she guessed she should have seen something like it coming. After all, she had known something was going on between her boyfriend and his roommate from the moment she met him. That... had been an experience on its own, one that nearly gave her a freaking heart attack when Armand had burst into her boyfriend’s room –while she was there, sleeping with him- at two in the morning, demanding he taught him how to Skype to Paris with his brand new Tablet PC. And I mean, in her boyfriend’s defense, he had told him to fuck off, and rather energetically, but all the brunette boy had to do was make some puppy dog eyes at him, and Daniel caved in almost instantly. 

“Fine!” He had yelled, “But you gonna have to pay me”

“But of course” Armand had agreed, tossing a stack of bills -all of them Benjamins- onto Daniel’s bed, and then he had tossed himself on it. Right between Daniel and her. And don’t get her wrong, she could see the lure of easy money as much as any other undergraduate drowning in student loans, but she could see the furtive little glances Daniel threw at his roommate, as he giggled, delighted, speaking French like a native, and showing Daniel the Eiffel Tower when the person he was talking to finally gave in and show it to them. Money had nothing to do with that. 

Daniel himself seemed completely oblivious,  every time Alice tried to bring the subject up, she was rebuffed by her boyfriend insisting it was just typical Armand being Armand, telling her about how he hadn't really socialized in his childhood and how he wasn't neurotypical and how she was just misinterpreting his behavior. Armand simply didn't know how normal people acted, but had a good heart. Like that time Daniel wasn’t really making enough with his freelancing to eat, so he had once crashed his lunch at campus with a platoon of delivery guys from like twenty different places because he "didn't know what Daniel liked so he had ordered everything". Alice had to blink several times, breathe, and count to a hundred so she wouldn't just blurt out that friends didn't act that way and Armand was trying to impress him, for fucks sake! 

Now, there she was, sitting alone on the couch as her boyfriend finished hugging his roomie hello, after he had promised her they would be having the apartment all for themselves for the night because Armand was supposed to be working late. So much for that, she thought as Armand flopped on the old ratty couch right beside her, of course, so Daniel would have no choice but to sit on the other side of the couch.

“What are we watching?” He asked, casually grabbing the remote that had just fallen from Alice’s hands. 

“I’m sorry, weren’t you supposed to be at work?” Daniel threw her a dirty look, no doubt admonishing her for her rudeness, but Armand, who really did seem incognizant of most social cues, simply shrugged.

“I did go in, and I did organize all the case files and paperwork they asked me to. I even took a look at the case the associates were working on and made some folders with copies of all the other lawsuits that were similar to it. It took me about two hours, I really don’t understand how the paralegals there are so inefficient…” 

“Wait, so you went in, did your paperwork, did some extra paperwork you weren’t even required to do, and just… went home?” Alice was stunned, “You do know they expect interns to stick around, get them food, make coffee, and stuff, right?”

Armand frowned,

“That’s not on my job description”

“It’s implicit” She tried to explain, “Intern is just another word for busboy” 

Armand simply stared, face completely blank and for the first time ever, Alice felt sorry for the boy, who was undoubtedly about to lose his internship at one of the most important legal firms in the city.

“Oh, who cares? He should quit that job anyway!” Daniel exclaimed, wrapping a protective arm around his roommate’s shoulder, “They’re just a bunch of pretentious, soulless, money-hungry bastards. You don’t wanna be like them anyway, boss”

“If I quit” Armand seemed to be actually considering it, “I would get more free time to spend with you…”

Daniel barked a laugh,

“See, it’s a win-win situation!” Their eyes met, and suddenly, Alice had a feeling as if she was intruding on an intimate moment. Luckily, her boyfriend cleared his throat and broke it with a “Now, go change out of your monkey suit. Your spreading fugly lawyers' germs all over the couch”

Armand sighed but did get up, dragging his feet all the way to his room, where he didn’t even bother to close the door before starting to shed his clothes. Alice definitely did not notice her boyfriend’s eyes lingering on the sight for too long. She did not. 

“Baby? Babe? Daniel!” She did not have to yell to get her boyfriend’s attention again either, “Do you want to go to my place? Amy’s not home, she’s spending the night with Becka…” 

“Um, what? Not really, why?” Daniel sputtered, unthinkingly. But before Alice even had the time to explain, Daniel’s phone started to ring with the most un-Daniel song ever.

I want you to want me… I need you to need me… I’d love you to lo- 

“Sorry, gotta take this” He excused himself before flipping his phone open, “Hi, boss! How are you? Oh? Food it’s on its way here already? You ordered Thai? For the three of us? Dude, you are awesome, did I ever tell you that? Well, I’m telling you again: Boss… You’re awesome! Yeah, see you in a minute!” 

He hung up, turning to Alice with a big, goofy smile on his face.

“That was Armand” He explained, unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I figured” 

“He got us food!”

“So I’ve heard” She smiled, and if it was more sardonically than anything else, well, her boyfriend didn’t seem to notice or care. “I just have a little question, what was that… ringtone?”

Daniel chuckled, green eyes bright with mirth, 

“Oh, Armand thought it would be funny to change all my ringtones”

“So he was the one to set it up?”

“Yeah, you should hear what he put on as yours!” One look at his girlfriend’s unamused expression and his laughter died in his throat, “Then again, maybe not… Anyway, I messed with all his ringtones too in revenge”

“Really?” Alice asked with genuine curiosity, “What did you do?”

“Well, you know how I love Muse, right?”

“Yeah”

“And how much Armand hates it” She didn’t, not really, but she did guess her boyfriend knew the guy better. So, she nodded. “So I changed all his ringtones for Muse songs”

“Ok” She inquired, carefully, already dreading to hear the answer, “And which one did you set up as yours?”

Please don’t let it be “Unintended”, please don’t let it be “Unintended”...

“Um, I was running out of songs, so I chose “Endlessly””

That was so much worse. Exasperated, Alice threw her hands up in the air, ready to get up when Armand walked into the room again, wearing the world’s sluttiest man pajamas she had ever seen: A pair of silk black pants hung dangerously low off Armand’s hips, exposing the top of the V-shaped line of his pelvis, while a too short black t-shirt with an extremely low cut v-neckline gave a tantalizing view of his tanned chest and rather impressive pectorals. It was only when her eyes got to his face and she saw the little smirk he was sporting, that Alice realized her mouth was hanging open. But Alice wasn’t the only one staring, next to her, Daniel was positively gawking, and Alice understood the reason for Armand’s smug expression: He knew. There was nothing innocent or clueless about that boy, he was purposely, deliberately, trying to steal her boyfriend. 

And he was succeeding. 

She watched in shock as Armand bend in half in front of the TV, giving both Daniel and her a perfect view of his perfect butt as he put on a disc on the DVD player, too stunned to even understand what the boy was doing until the already painfully familiar notes to the opening of “Blade Runner” started to play. She heard her boyfriend groan, but as she turned to look at him, there was a fond, if a little exasperated smile on his face. Alice, however, harbored no fondness whatsoever for Armand or the movie he was so weirdly obsessed with.

“What? No! Guys? Blade Runner again??” 

Armand turned around, face blank again. Daniel simply shrugged, 

“Armand likes it”

“But we literally watched it a hundred thousand times!” She protested, reaching for the coffee table where she had left her own movie of choice. “Besides, I brought a movie I want to watch, for once!”

“Oh, come on! “Crossroads”?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just… Britney Spears? Really?”

“You cried during “A Walk to Remember” and Mandy Moore was in it!”

“I did not-”

“It’s a good movie” Armand sentenced, taking the box from Alice’s hands, deft fingers taking out the disc carefully, halting her bickering with Daniel. 

“Wait… what?”

“Yeah, what?” Alice echoed her boyfriend’s feeling of confusion. It wasn’t like Armand to ever take her side instead of Daniel’s.

“I think it’s a good movie” He repeated, placing the disc on the player, “It’s entertaining, Britney Spears is endearing, and I like the message of the movie…”

“Oh?” Daniel asked, with genuine curiosity, “And what message is that”

Armand took his place on the couch next to Daniel, eyes intense as he replied,

“That life might change, dreams might change, relationships might change” Alice knew she was not imagining the side look he threw at her. “But true friends stay with you forever”

Oh, the fucking… gremlin! Alice was about ready to throttle him. 

"That's it! I'm done!" Unable to stop herself, she jumped from the couch, planting herself in front of her boyfriend and his roommate, to deliver her ultimatum. "I can't deal with this anymore. You have to choose, Daniel. Him" she pointed her finger to a completely serene Armand, "or me" 

"Wha- Choose? Alice… What the hell?" Daniel sputtered, beyond confused. "What do you mean to choose?"

"I mean I can't just stand there as I watch this… this… evil imp twink tries to sink his dirty claws on my boyfriend!" Alice was pretty much shrieking, as she flayed her hands around, gesturing wildly as she yelled, "He’s clearly into you, and I’m not so sure you aren’t into him as well anymore, not when you’re making goo-goo eyes at him all the time and constantly ditching me to hang out with him!

So, we're going to settle this once and for all. Which one of us do you want? Is it me or is it him? Because one of us has to go" 

Daniel simply stood there, mouth hanging open like a fish, brain fried by the shock. Alice deflated, all her anger and frustration bled away from her after yelling her piece.

“So? Daniel?” She repeated, heartbreak transparent in her expressive brown eyes, “Who’s it gonna be?”

But Daniel couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say anything. Much less what she wanted to hear.

“That’s quite enough, Alice” Armand’s calm but cold voice rang like a bell through the small apartment, commanding the attention of all of its occupants to him. Alice couldn’t ignore the relief that seemed to wash over her apparently soon-to-be ex-boyfriend as his roommate took control of the situation. She couldn’t quite blame him, she guessed, Armand’s entire demeanor had changed, he seemed bigger somehow, taller as he wasn’t slouching anymore. Dominating and domineering, compelling in a way Alice had never seen before, as if the very air inside the tiny living room was standing on guard and ready to obey him.

Truth was, it was kinda hot.

“Daniel?” She begged for the last time, her heart not really in it, unsurprised when Daniel failed to do anything but watch as Armand led her out. The door closed behind her with a deafeningly soft click, and Armand finally turned to face a still-flabbergasted Daniel.

"Can- can you believe her?" He tried, and failed to appear nonchalant, his nervously scratching at the back of his neck and tomato red face giving him away. "She thinks I have some kinda weird gay crush on you…" 

Armand simply made a non-committal hum before seemingly deciding on something and marching towards Daniel with an intensity and determination that made the blushing boy weak in the knees. 

Luckily, his roommate grabbed him by the collar of his polo, stopping him from falling face first into the floor the moment his soft plush lips crashed into Daniel’s. 

And this was a guy. This was Armand, this was his roommate, his best friend, and he knew he should stop it, step away before they fucked all that up…

But he was rooted to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of sensations. It was different from kissing a girl. Hard planes where he was used to soft curves. The tickle of scruff, and slightly chapped lips where he was used to strawberry sweet chapstick. Yet as Armand's tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entrance, Daniel couldn't help but open up to him, to surrender to him, as his tongue conquered every inch of Daniel's mouth, a greddy, hungry victor. 

"Wait… this is wrong" Daniel breathed against Armand’s mouth, even as his hands came to rest on the taller boy's larger ones, keeping them there, the metal of his finger rings cool against Daniel’s cheeks. 

"Doesn't feel wrong" He quipped, before scraping his teeth against Danie's, tearing a moan out of him.

"No, it doesn't," the boy admitted, pushing one thigh between Armand’s, gasping as he felt one of his roommate's hands slip from his face and come to rest against his lower back, pressing him closer. 

"Wait!" Daniel exclaimed again, and this time, Armand did break the kiss.

"What is it, Daniel?"

"Alice was right…" He confessed, uncharacteristically shy, considering one of his thighs was still pressed against Armand’s crotch, "I have a gay crush on you"

Armand threw his head back laughing in that boyish way Daniel had secretly always found so endearing, 

"Good" He finally replied, once the chuckles died down. He rested his forehead on Daniel’s, catching his breath, "That's good, because I have a gay crush on you too" 

Those were the last words spoken in their apartment for a while. 

Moans and gasps don't count as words. 

[ksuojelly]

''My daddy!" your daughter squeals, her tiny hands grabbing at Sukuna’s sleeve as she tugs with all her might, her little face scrunched in fierce determination.

"No, my daddy!" you shoot back with mock seriousness, yanking on his other arm with equal intensity.

Sukuna, seated on the couch with his arms stretched out like he's being crucified by love, with a rainbow unicorn bandage is stuck to his forehead. Why? No one knows. His crimson eyes remain glued to the TV screen but he’s not really watching anymore, quietly accepting his fate.

He doesn't say anything, though there’s the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

''My daddy gives me more kisses'' your daughter declares, raising the stakes with wide, victorious eyes.

You gasp. “Traitor!” you chime in playfully, gripping his other arm and pretending to pout. “I saw him first!”

"Unbelievable," he murmurs under his breath, eyes glancing between the two girls tugging on him like he's a prized teddy bear.

Your daughter tugs harder, giggling. “S' Mine Papa forever!”

You gasp in mock betrayal. “What?! I give him goodnight kisses! And make his tea!”

“I draw him pictures!”

“I keep him warm at night!”

Sukuna finally exhales and tilts his head back against the couch. “I should’ve stayed a curse.”

You and your daughter both throw yourselves against him in an instant, wrapping him in tiny arms and grown-up affection. He lets out a low, exaggerated groan but doesn’t move he just melts quietly into your combined warmth.

The room is filled with you and your daughters giggles high-pitched, unfiltered, contagious, Sukuna’s arms slide around the two of you, one large hand gently cradling your daughter’s back, the other resting over your waist.

Silently complaining like a grumpy old man, lips pressed in that familiar irritated line

And despite the complaining, he doesn’t push either of you away.

All rights reserved © 2025 ksuojelly. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[reignpage]

Quick! Go Hide

in which you prank the sleeping jjk men by telling them, 'You need to hide; my boyfriend's home!'...saw it on tiktok heh

Satoru croaks, “Oh, shit. He is?” 

Groggily, he clambers out of bed and hides in the bathroom, bare feet padding. In the dark, he waits. Seconds pass and he shows no sign of realising what games you’re playing. When you go to collect him, you find him asleep, standing with his forehead pressed to the cold tile, drooling. 

“Is he gone?” He asks, voice raspy, shaken awake once again. You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “Good ‘cause I’m too tired to fight anyone…I’d win though.” 

Soon after, in bed, he continues sleeping. And it’s only in the morning that you find him grinning and prodding your puffy cheek. “That was really funny, babe. Ten out of ten. No notes.”

Suguru's brows furrow. Without opening his eyes, he mutters, “Nice try.”

“No, really. You gotta go; he’ll kill you.” A curse emerges, large and foreboding, just watching in the corner of the room. Shivers wrack your body. It doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, nor utter a single sound. Still, the message is clear. You roll your eyes and cuddle into your boyfriend’s side. “You’re no fun.”

He tucks you in close. “Try again in the morning, pretty girl. I’m sure I’ll be more fun when I’m not half asleep.”

Choso startles awake, bloodshot eyes widening. “Oh no. What should we do?”

He lets you shove him into the closet, shirtless and hair a mess. There he stands patiently, shuffling on his feet and holding his breath. Then, when a minute passes, he has a moment of realisation. Creaking open, the closet door widens to reveal him – he looks unimpressed…and pouty. 

“I’m your only boyfriend; why do I need to hide?”

You giggle. “Sorry, Cho. It was just a joke.’

“I don’t really see what’s funny,” he grouches as he gets back into bed with you, wrapping his arms tight around your body and tucking his head in the crook of your neck, quickly forgetting your prank once his senses are overwhelmed with you. 

Toji peeks one eye at your faux panicked face. He shoves it away, grumbling under his breath about how much of a brat you are and shifts into a different position; he’s got his back turned to you now. Undeterred, you shake him one more time. “I’m being serious. You gotta hide, Toji.”

“Leave me alone, woman. I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now.”

You drape your entire body over his. His beefy arm comes around to keep you steady, in case you fall off the bed with your clumsy ass. “Okay, but if he beats you up and takes me away, your loss.”

He grunts. “I’d like to see anyone try.”

Then, to keep your mouth from disturbing his sleep any longer, he suffocates your face in between his pecs, a hand on your ass, groping it for compensation.

Kento jolts, hands grabbing you to push your body behind his. He scans the room, then the door, waits for the intruder, ready to defend. Only when he hears your stifled laughter does he truly process what you told him. He sighs, hand rubbing down his face. “Can’t sleep again, darling?”

“No. The baby keeps kicking me.” You smile when his warm palm caresses your stomach. 

Leaving a kiss on your forehead, he mutters, “I’ll give them a stern talking to; no child of mine hurts my wife. Now, would you like a midnight snack or should we stay up and watch the stars again?”

Lifted out of bed, he carries you in his arms, intent on keeping your bare feet from touching the cold floor. Even as sleep still courses through his veins, he’s determined to meet your every need – Kento couldn’t fall asleep again knowing you’re wide awake anyway. 

Sukuna doesn’t awaken. He’s as still as a corpse. You try again. And again. Nothing. When you pout and smack his chest, one of his four arms snatches your waist and slides you onto his huge body. Your ass is being patted, as is your head, and with another arm, he rubs your back. 

Calmly, his chest rumbles with his words. “All your previous partners are dead. No one will disturb us. Sleep.”

“Okay, Kuna…wait…no, they aren’t.”

He doesn’t reply, leaving you to wonder when he had the time to hunt them down one by one since he spends so much time never leaving your side in the first place. No answer comes to mind; his body can be so persuasive in pulling you to the land of slumber with him. Though, you are certain he whispers, ‘They will be,’ once he thinks you won’t hear. Try and follow up the next day however and he’ll shrug off your concerns with a, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

[reissancesstuff]

“WHO are you?”

sypnosis: you're too drunk to recognize your boyfriend.

warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk), swearing.

featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna ryomen.

Gojo

You are absolutely, unapologetically, undeniably wasted.

You don’t even remember how many drinks you’ve had. All you know is that the room is spinning, your heels are in your hand, and you’re sitting outside the club on the curb with a pout that could kill a man.

“Satoru,” you mumble, squinting at your phone. “Why hasn’t he called me back? That bastard.”

You’re just about to text him for the eighth time (your phone is upside down, for the record) when a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“There you are,” the voice says, amused. “You’re lucky I’m sexy and patient.”

You blink up, shielding your eyes from the moonlight—or maybe it’s the streetlight, or maybe it's the glowing aura of the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. White-haired. Wearing a black coat and sunglasses, at night, like a menace.

You frown.

“Who,” you say seriously, “the fuck are you?”

He freezes.

You narrow your eyes further, wobbling to your feet and poking his chest.

“Back off, handsome stranger,” you declare. “I already have a boyfriend.”

He sputters. “Handsome? Wait—”

“He’s the love of my life,” you say proudly. “Six feet of nonsense. White hair. Smug face. He’s so annoying. But like, in a hot way.”

“…That’s literally just me,” he deadpans.

“Nooo,” you slur. “Satoru’s prettier.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?! I AM SATORU!”

You gasp. Loudly.

“Oh my god. You’re one of those crazy fans.”

“What???”

You stumble back, dramatically offended. “You wanna be him, don’t you? Is that why you dyed your hair? Is this cosplay?!”

Gojo stares at you, dumbfounded.

You wave your heel in the air like a sword. “Back off! I’m loyal!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Sweetheart—”

You cut him off, whispering, “Don’t call me that. Only Satoru calls me sweetheart.”

“…I am Satoru!”

A pause. Then, suddenly, you gasp again—like your brain has rebooted.

“Wait… You sound like him,” you say slowly, brows furrowing. “Say something only Satoru would say.”

He leans in, lips grazing your ear.

“I know how you like it when I kiss that one spot on your thigh.”

You shriek, smacking his chest. “Okay you’re him!!”

He laughs—loud, stupid, proud.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his coat as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

“You said I was hot,” he hums smugly. “I’m never letting that go.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, snuggling into him anyway. “Still prettier in my head.”

He kisses your forehead. “Good thing I’m also prettier in real life.”

---

By the time he gets you home, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

You wake up the next morning with a hangover, a glass of water on your nightstand, and a sticky note on your forehead.

"Handsome Stranger says hi. —Your boyfriend 💙"

You groan, burying your face in the pillow.

God, he’s never gonna let this go.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Geto

You’re drunk.

Like, embarrassingly drunk.

Like, sitting outside the izakaya barefoot with your shoes in your lap and a half-eaten skewer in your hand, slurring into your phone like it’s your long-lost best friend.

“Where the hell is Suguru?” you mumble. “I’m cold. And also beautiful. I deserve a ride.”

A shadow falls over you.

You look up—slowly, dramatically—and see a tall, broad figure standing above you, dark hair in a low bun, wearing all black like he’s auditioning to be a villain in a slow-burn romance anime.

“Get up,” he says. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

You squint. “Oh my god.”

He raises a brow. “Yes?”

“You’re hot,” you whisper.

He sighs. “Baby, it’s me.”

“No,” you say, pointing a threatening skewer at him. “My boyfriend is nicer. He’s sweet. And warm. And smells like sandalwood and chaos. You look like a mafia boss. You probably steal hearts and credit cards.”

Suguru stares at you like he’s questioning all his life choices.

You stand up—well, try to—and nearly fall into him. His arms catch you effortlessly, like it’s muscle memory.

You shove a finger in his chest. “I’m taken. My boyfriend will kill you.”

“Will he?” he asks, humoring you. “Violent type?”

“The worst,” you say proudly. “He once glared at a guy so hard his hairline receded.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“He is,” you nod seriously. “And he calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something.”

Suguru exhales a laugh, something low and fond. “Okay. What if I prove I’m him?”

You blink at him, considering. “…Fine. Do it.”

He steps close, close enough that his chest brushes yours.

“Two weeks ago, you said if I didn’t let you adopt a cat, you’d put glitter in my shampoo.”

Your jaw drops. “How did you—?!”

“Three days ago, you cried because a dog in a TikTok wore boots.”

“And last night,” he leans in, brushing his lips by your ear, “you told me I’m your favorite ‘tall dark and dangerous’ man, but you’d leave me instantly for Keanu Reeves.”

You gasp. “Suguru?!”

“Yes.”

“OH MY GOD.” You slap his arm. “Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

“I did.”

You cling to him, dramatic as ever. “I missed you. You smell good. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward the car, shaking his head with the softest smile.

“You’re gonna regret all of this in the morning,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I regret nothing,” you slur. Then squint up at him. “Wait. Did you really glare a guy’s hairline off?”

“…That one might’ve been a little exaggerated.”

“Still hot.”

---

The next morning, you wake up in Suguru’s hoodie, with water, painkillers, and a sticky note on your phone:

“Mafia Boss says thank you for your compliments. You’re under permanent protection now. —Your real boyfriend 💌”

You bury your face in the pillow.

He’s never letting this go.

And honestly? You’re kind of glad.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Nanami

You’re sitting on a curb, absolutely wasted.

There’s glitter on your eyelids, chicken nuggets in your purse, and a girl from the bar sobbing beside you because her ex posted a gym selfie.

You offer her a nugget.

“You deserve better,” you tell her. “You’re gorgeous. Your eyebrows are, like, symmetrical. I’d marry you.”

She sniffles, then stares behind you. “Uhh… is that your boyfriend?”

You turn.

And see a tall, broad man walking up, sleeves rolled, tie loose, face unreadable—like God sent a male model from a finance firm to collect wayward souls off the street.

You frown.

“You look expensive,” you say slowly. “Are you one of those… high-end butlers?”

He stops in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You blink. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Your jaw drops. “No you’re not. My boyfriend is… emotionally repressed. Wears beige. Has a sexy office job and a judgmental stare.”

Nanami sighs. “That’s me.”

You squint suspiciously. “Okay, if you’re really my boyfriend… what’s my weirdest habit?”

He looks down at you, voice flat. “You talk to plants. You name them. One is called Baby Groot. You cried when he lost a leaf.”

Your lips part. “Only he would know that…”

You wobble to your feet and nearly fall, catching yourself on his very firm chest. You clutch his shirt.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “You are my sexy office man.”

“Let’s go home,” he mutters, guiding you gently toward his car.

You dig your heels into the ground. “Wait! Waitwaitwait—don’t kidnap me! I have a boyfriend!”

“You just admitted I am your boyfriend.”

“…Oh. Right.” You giggle. “Lucky me.”

He helps you into the passenger seat like you’re fragile cargo. Once seated, you stare at him as he buckles you in.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur.

“I know.”

“And patient.”

“I have no choice.”

“You’re gonna marry me one day.”

His hands still for half a second.

Then: “I already plan to.”

You pass out smiling.

---

The next morning, you wake up in bed, dressed in your comfiest pajamas, with a glass of water, aspirin, and a note:

"In case you forget: yes, I am your boyfriend. No, I am not a butler. Please hydrate. —Kento"

You giggle into the pillow.

You’re definitely going to marry that man.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Toji

You are sitting on a barstool, double fisting two very illegally strong cocktails, laughing at absolutely nothing.

You're also very certain that a hot man is trying to kidnap you.

“Ma’am,” the man says, standing in front of you like an irritated wall of muscle. “It’s me.”

You look him up and down.

Black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Scary aura. Tight shirt. Very very hot.

But no. You're loyal.

You squint. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I picked you up from karaoke an hour ago.”

“Impossible,” you say dramatically. “My boyfriend would never show up to karaoke. He thinks fun is ‘a scam made by broke people.’”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he grunts.

You gasp. “You are hot though. Like, really hot. But listen—my boyfriend? He’s kinda mean, super strong, and terrifying. He could totally kill you.”

He stares.

You continue: “He’s also soooo good in bed. Real monster. Demon behavior. But he’s mine, so—”

Toji grabs your wrist. “Get your ass up.”

You gasp again. “You’re aggressive. Just like him. But he’d never touch me like that in public unless I pissed him off.”

“Oh?” he says, voice flat. “You mean like getting blackout drunk, threatening the DJ, and petting strangers' dogs without asking?”

You tilt your head. “So you do know me...”

“I live with you.”

You lean forward, squinting hard, then grab his face between your hands. “Say something only my boyfriend would say.”

He deadpans, “If you puke in my car again, I’m charging you five grand.”

Your mouth drops open. “Toji?!”

“Finally.”

You throw your arms around his neck. “Where have you been all night?!”

“Chasing your drunk ass down. Again.”

He tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking to his car.

“Wait,” you slur. “You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“But I’m your babygirl…”

He opens the car door. “You’re my goddamn headache.”

“Love you too!”

---

The next morning, you wake up with a hangover and a bruise on your hip that looks suspiciously like the edge of Toji’s shoulder.

You check your phone.

1 New Message from Toji

📸 [photo of you passed out face-first in his passenger seat, drooling]

Toji: Don’t drink again unless I’m there. Dumbass.

You smile.

Your murderous, scary, mean boyfriend is the best.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Sukuna

You’re absolutely, irreparably hammered.

How do you know?

Because there is a gorgeous man standing in front of you with piercings, tattoos, and arms you’d like to sit on — and instead of flirting with him, you’re loudly sobbing to your friend.

“He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna kill the hot guy,” you sniff.

“Who?”

“That guy,” you point at the very man you’re talking about. “He’s hot but he’s not my boyfriend. But he’s gonna die. My boyfriend is crazy.”

The man in question — the hot one — drags a hand down his face. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

You nod solemnly. “Yes. And you should leave before he finds you.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

You blink. “Noooo, my boyfriend has tattoos—”

He lifts his shirt.

“—oh my god you have tattoos,” you whisper.

“And piercings.”

You stare at the twin bars through his eyebrow and the silver glint on his tongue as he smirks.

“My boyfriend has those too!” you giggle. “But also, he’s terrifying. He’d murder you in an alley for touching me.”

He steps closer. “You mean like this?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you flush against him.

You freeze. “Bold of you, hot stranger.”

He leans in, voice low and dark in your ear. “You bit me last time I tried to wake you up from a drunk nap.”

You gasp. “Sukuna?!”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sharp canines grazing your skin. “Now let’s get you in the damn car before I dump you in a gutter.”

You wrap your arms around him, eyes wide. “You’re so mean. I love you.”

“I know you do, dumbass.”

---

The next morning, you wake up to an ice pack on your head and a water bottle on your nightstand. Sukuna is sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone.

“…Did I threaten you again last night?” you mumble.

“You told me you’d report me to the FBI if I didn’t prove I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh god.”

“You also called me ‘Mr. Jail Tattoos’ and asked if I knew I was hot.”

“I hate myself.”

He glances at you with that lazy smirk. “You said, and I quote, ‘I wanna kiss you but my boyfriend’s gonna beat your ass.’”

You pull a pillow over your face. “Did you beat your own ass?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “But I did let you tackle me onto the bed. You drooled on my neck.”

“…Love you?”

He flicks your forehead. “Be less dumb next time.”

You grin. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Jail Tattoos.”

And he does, in fact, tackle you right back.

[thatsmutaccount]

HOW WOULD THE REX NEW LIFE CHARACTERS REACT TO THEIR PARTNER TELLING THEM: "HONEY, I'M PREGNANT!"

*****

As always you guys can find the chapter with everyone bios here.

This is a mix of serious answers and joke answers. Don't take it too seriously, it's just for laugh, just like the boyfriend post from a couple of months ago.

Tell me what you think, if there were answers you didn't expect to see or other answers that made you laugh. I hope I was able to make you smile a little bit or comfort you at least a bit.

Keep being awesome and enjoy!

*****

Rex: Pregnant? You mean "pregnant pregnant"? You mean we are going to have a baby? Us? I'm going to be a father? Me? *smiles brightly... and then he faints. Once you got him back on his feet he hugs you and kiss you, telling you how much he loves you and your baby and how happy he is. Tells his family and friends almost instantly*

Walt, a very gay man: *gasps before placing a hand on his own stomach* You too?

Mike, another very gay man: Babe, we are both guys...

Noah: *starts coughing* What?! What do you mean you are pregnant?! I'm too old to have another kid! What would Rex and Mike say?! What would Jake say?! God, what would my father say?!?! *panicks for a bit until you manage to calm him down, then starts preparing everything, after all this is not his first rodeo*

Mr. Jordan, yet another gay man: *looks at you completely unamused* If you wanted to have a kid you could have just asked me without resorting to such tomfoolery, you know? Luckily, I was already thinking about it myself *starts submerging you with broucheurs about adoption, clearly showing you he did a lot of researchs on the matter. Can't help but smile talking about it*

Tyler: *looks at you, confused, before starting to laugh nervously* Very funny, sweety, you really got me there for a second. Wait, what do you mean you are serious? *realizes you werent joking, it's equal parts panicking and laughing for joy at the news. Phones Rex instantly to tell him the good news*

Coach Norris: Well, this is sudden... What? No, I'm happy, really happy. It's just... Woah, me? A dad? *a smile starts spreading on his face before he approaches you and puts a hand on your belly* This kid is going to be a champion, the guys on the team are going to spoil him so much.

Felipe: *doesn't know how to react at first, then he becomes genuinely happy and starts planning everything. He is happy like he hasn't been in ages*

Dimitri: *no baby for him, he is the cool uncle*

Josh: *faints. It takes a couple of tries to reanimate him. He tells you he had this weird dream where you told him you were pregnant. You tell him it wasn't a dream. He faints again*

Jorge: *grunts and nothing else. Looks completely unbothered. But you can see he is smiling a little. He is screaming in happines inside*

Jake: *panickly phones his brother to know what to do. Can't stop smiling for days afterwards*

Todd, a married man with a wife who is already pregnant: *really confused, didn't had a decent night of sleep in weeks* Wait, again?

Zack: *phones Mike so he can gloat about it to him and to make it known he bested him*

Liam: *swings between excitement and nervousness. One second he tells you he is going to be the best dad ever, the following he says he is not ready and it's going to be a disaster. In the end calls Tyrone and Akira to ask them for help*

Akira: Yeah, I already knew *picks out of nowhere everything you need and a planner on what to do for the near future, day by day until the due date*

Tyrone: *smiles brightly, goes in to hug you and to start twirling you around but stops himself in time and just tenderly hugs you. Starts planning how to give the big announcement to your families and friends, orders book on paternity and what to do during your pregnancy and dozens of t-shirts with dad jokes on them*

[cumironi]

ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

[paranoiddreams]

prev⟺next

Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

[amomentwiser]

Criminal Couture - Chapter 1

It’s 2:37 am in Wolf Trap, Virginia. If you’re a robber, drug dealer, mafia gang member, or one of the very few respectable professions who have reason to be wandering around outside at such unholy hours, you’ll see a scruffy man in nothing but ratty boxers crouched low near the ground outside some innocent’s window, muttering to himself and occasionally clicking his tongue.

And if, due to some incidents that transpired in your childhood, your instinct is to go towards the man instead of sprinting away from such obvious displays of lunacy, you’ll hear him repeating, “Cadaver… cadaver… cadaver…” under his breath.

If, despite such alarming red flags, the angelic brown curls and admittedly buff forearms still call to you, then go ahead – talk to him. It’s your funeral.

 

■ ■ ■

 

Will kneels on the dewy grass under the lovely pink and purple begonias growing on the window sill of his neighbour’s classic suburban house. His hands and knees are covered with mud, and there are scratches on his arms and leaves in his hair from poking his head through prickly bushes. He hopes the owner of the house just dismisses the noise as the nocturnal adventures of some raccoon.

You might be wondering how he got here. You’ve probably assumed he’s doing something illegal — understandable; he gets that a lot. But Will actually didn’t make the conscious decision to come here. No, his wonderful brain planned that all on its own.

By “neighbour,” Will means the guy who lives five miles from his house, because Will is unapologetically antisocial and chose to buy a house closer to foxes and forests than to malls and McDonald’s. The guy has the title of “neighbour” only because his house is the nearest human settlement after Will’s.

He weighs his options — he could knock on his neighbour’s door, but that would involve explaining why he’s so far from home, which would involve admitting to the adult-onset sleepwalking, and that in turn would involve telling yet another person that he might be going a certifiable, rubber-stamped type of crazy.

Maybe he could come up with a less alarming excuse for why he’s wandering around half naked at this hour? He could say he was abducted by some criminal he had heroically put away during is NOPD days, who stripped him of clothes and wallet before dumping him here for some reason. Maybe then his neighbour wouldn’t mind —

All concern for his own well-being flees Will’s mind when he hears a little “yip” from somewhere behind him.

He whirls around, looking for the source, half-worried if there even is one — it wouldn’t be the first time his ears have played tricks on him. But no, wait — there is something there in the shadows — a pair of gleaming eyes in the copse of trees lining one side of the road. A little puppy timidly emerges from the darkness, her fur matted with dirt and, alarmingly, a little bit of blood. She must’ve originally been white with coffee-brown spots, but is currently so dirty that she just looks like one lump of dried black mud. She is clearly malnourished — Will can count her tiny ribs even from this distance — and one of her ears is folded inside out.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Will murmurs. Hands outstretched, he approaches her very, very slowly. The puppy immediately flinches and takes off at a surprising speed. She runs across the road and, before Will can even turn to see where she’s going, disappears.

Will strains his ears until he hears it again — ah, there, in the bushes. Will gives chase, his brain consumed with non-stop thoughts of “Dog! Must rescue! Dog! Dog! Dog!” with every step he runs, wincing slightly every time his bare feet meet the harsh ground.

“There, there, little doggie,” Will whispers. “Where are you, Cadaver?”

(He’s already named her Cadaver, before even catching her.  He may or may not have a list of potential dog names in his notes app, and he may or may not have expanded it since his last adoption — he knew he wasn’t going to stop at five dogs. He’s not sure what the maximum limit is, just that there ought to be one. Does being an adult mean he can just do whatever? Why is everyone letting him get away with this?)

》 full fic on ao3

[kashverse]

the first time it happens, sukuna doesn't even react.

your daughter, a tiny little thing with a head full of wild hair that looks just like his but with your color, storms up to him while he's adjusting his tie. she's got a determined look on her face, a plastic figurine clutched in her tiny hands—a sonny angel doll, of all things.

"papa, hold," she demands, her chubby fingers working to shove it into the breast pocket of his pristine, custom-made suit. he looks down at her, red eyes blinking slowly. then he looks at you, standing off to the side, barely holding back your laughter.

"what is this?" he asks flatly.

"sonny angel," your daughter says like it's obvious. "he's cute. for you."

you make a choked noise behind your hand, and sukuna exhales through his nose. his baby girl, his tiny menace, is standing there with all the confidence of someone who has never been told 'no' in her life. because, well. she hasn't. so what does he do? he lets her shove the damn thing in his pocket. adjusts it a little so it's sitting neatly, because if he's going to have a tiny cherub-faced baby figurine sticking out of his suit, it's at least going to look intentional.

"happy?" he asks.

his daughter beams at him, gives his pant leg a firm pat like he's done a good job, then scurries off to continue whatever other toddler nonsense she was up to before this. you’re wheezing in the corner.

"don't say a word," he warns, fixing his cuffs.

you grin. "i didn't say anything."

cut to his meeting later that day. sukuna walks in like he owns the place (because he does), radiating his usual aura of dominance and unrelenting authority. his executives are already seated, tense and ready, knowing full well that sukuna does not entertain idiocy. but today? today there is something new. today, nestled neatly in the breast pocket of his three-piece suit, is a tiny, plastic baby figurine wearing a duck hat.

the entire room freezes.

one poor soul, likely new and unaware of how the corporate hierarchy works under sukuna, makes the grave mistake of letting out the faintest, almost imperceptible snort.

sukuna turns his head very slowly.

"who the fuck just laughed?"

silence. absolute, suffocating silence. the man looks down at his notes as if they might save him from impending doom.

sukuna leans back in his chair, tapping a clawed finger against the conference table.

"anyone else got something to say about my sonny angel?"

no one breathes.

good.

he conducts the rest of the meeting as if nothing is out of place, occasionally adjusting the little doll in his pocket like it's just another part of his attire.

by the end of the week, rumors have spread. no one dares to question the sonny angel. entire powerpoint presentations are given with the utmost professionalism while a tiny, smiling cherub peeks out of sukuna’s suit.

by the end of the month, it becomes an unofficial rule of the office. mock the sonny angel? fired. make a comment? fired. even looking at it for too long earns you a pointed glare.

and by the end of the quarter, the entire upper management team has started discreetly wearing their own sonny angels in solidarity. your daughter, completely oblivious to the corporate chaos she has caused, simply continues her toddler life, happy and content in the knowledge that her papa always carries her gift with him.

and sukuna? well. if having a tiny plastic baby in his pocket means seeing his little girl’s delighted grin every morning, then so be it.

[edupunkn00b]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders Characters: Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, canonverse, Canon-ish, yet another story scooped by a video released before the scheduled publish date, not that i'm complaining, Cooking, cooking in the Mindscape, patton and remus are cooking together, this will be fine Summary:

mise en place (ˌmē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs) noun

Borrowed from French. A culinary process in which ingredients are prepared and organized (as in a restaurant kitchen) before cooking

Also : the set of ingredients prepared using this process