#Y/N Crack

[starandcloud]

Fuck-

Y/N: Laying next to their wife, peacefully drifting off to sleep

.

..

...

Y/N: Shooting up you're a mother fucking vampire!

Alice: watching her spouse and shakes her head it took you this long to realize..?

Y/N: Yeah....

[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💪🏻🫡

[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.

[cuntyji]

you were in the park, petting some random dog.

its owner, a tall dude with white hair and sunglasses, said,

“wanna see her puppy?”

and like a fool, you said, “hell yeah, i wanna see puppy.”

you followed him.

to his car.

every true crime podcast screamed in your head,

but puppy logic overrode survival instinct.

fast forward five years.

that tall dude? gojo.

your husband.

the dog is still fat.

gojo’s still hot.

and every time he tells the story, he starts with:

“she risked it all for a puppy. now she’s stuck with me.”

[retiredteabag]

“This isn’t working”

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

Synopsis: something broke… but it’s definitely not your relationship

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[suksatoru]

it takes you a handful of minutes before you notice satoru's head resting against your thigh. he's staring off into space. there's a barely noticeable pout on his lips that replaces his trademark grin, and he looks... dejected.

albeit a little clumsily, you slip out of your seat as quietly as you can and lower yourself onto the ground beside him. satoru perks up once he sees you next to him, and everyone else around you two converses noisily, oblivious to you two crouched under the table like little kids.

you give your boyfriend a curious tilt of your head, and he smiles sadly.

"hi there, pretty."

"hi. who are we hiding from?"

there's a flush to your cheeks that is entirely from the drinks you've had tonight. your eyes are a misty haze — and in your intoxicated state, you fail to notice satoru's thumb brush over the small, velvet box in his hand as he tucks it back into his pocket.

tonight had been the night satoru wanted to propose to you. he'd give himself at least a dozen pep talks between waking up and picking you up for your umpteenth date — then, he'd taken you to your favorite restaurant, a modest little place tucked into the outer edges of the city.

he thought it was perfect. despite all the extravagant things that came along with dating the satoru gojo, he wanted your proposal to be personal and special. just the two of you.

what he didn't expect was to run into all of your sorcerer friends and co-workers.

satoru supposes it is kind of his fault for not telling anyone about his plans to propose to you tonight. of course, he planned to tell everyone after you two were formally engaged, but he never considered the possibility that you two could run into others.

before he knew it, tables were being pushed together and chairs were being dragged around to make room for everyone else to join. shoko, suguru, and a few other of your co-workers had all finished up a late night mission and headed to the nearest restaurant — which inconveniently happened to be the one you and satoru were dining at.

"no one in particular," satoru finally says, trying his best to mask his disappointment with a dorky grin as he pokes your cheek.

you catch his hand, eyes squinting as you look closer at him.

"you look sad. is it because i ate your spinach dip?"

your boyfriend gasps, loudly and deeply offended by the accusation as you break out into a silly giggle, telling him to shush before everyone eating notices you two under the table.

"is food the only supposed source of my emotions?" satoru laughs, and you shrug with a slanted grin

"if the shoe fits."

"oh, you are asking for it, little miss—"

his hands find your sides, and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as you squirm against him. eventually, shoko's head dips under the table, and her loud burst of laughter manages to distract satoru enough to allow you to pry yourself out of his grip.

"come on, satoru! you didn't even try the chocolate fudge cake yet. nanami accidentally ordered three, let's try and snag one to take home." you suggest with a grin, rising on wobbly legs from under the table and wiggling back into your seat as satoru follows

"ooo — quick! before utahime eats it all!"

his first attempt at proposing was a total fail. but, honestly, satoru can't even be mad. you had a great time tonight with him and all of your friends, so what's there to be disappointed about?

his next try will be better, he's sure of it. and maybeee somewhere on a remote island where the chances of running into anyone else was in the negatives.

in a few years, satoru's hopeful he'll be able to look back at this moment and laugh about it with you. so, he'll forget about the ring in his pocket for now and focus on the present — which was competing in the 'who can eat the most cake without barfing' competition against you.

spoiler alert: he ends up winning :P.... fatass <3

[ryoflix]

sukuna satisfying his family's munchies in the dead of the night | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

it starts with the softest whisper.

a rustle of bedsheets, the faint scuffle of bare feet against hardwood, and then two twin-sized shadows loom at the edge of your bed, blinking up at you like tiny cryptids. “mommy,” your daughter says, voice like honeyed air, “we want the chocolate moons.”

you squint, disoriented. “...what moons?”

“the circles with the owl on the box.”

you’re about to negotiate when you remember you, too, have your own cursed craving. a very specific, unreasonably spicy brand of instant noodles that only one dingy convenience store three blocks down carries. so you groan into your pillow, shove the blanket off your leg, and mumble, “suku, the kids want chocos. and i want hellfire ramen. we’re dying. please.”

from his side of the bed, the mountain of a man groans. 

“it’s 10:45,” he rasps, face still buried into the pillow. “i’m off-duty. i got no wheels. no scooter. i’ll go in the morning.”

“we’ll be dead by morning,” you say dramatically.

“starved and mourned,” the girl twin nods.

sukuna exhales like he’s being crucified.

five minutes later, he’s standing at the curb in loose black sweats, hoodie pulled over his head, the ends of his tattoos peeking out at his wrists like he’s trying to not look like someone who just survived a mafia shootout.

his phone says 10:53. his heart says i’m too old for this shit.

he tries to hail a taxi. he fails.

one zooms past. another splashes through a puddle and soaks the entire left side of his body. he nearly hurls a traffic cone. then a scooter whines past, and for a second he considers commandeering it with brute force and an IOU, but his knees say, don’t you dare.

at last, a taxi stops.

“7/11. the one with the broken light outside. fast.”

the driver glances back at him through the mirror.

sukuna’s glowering, wet, 6’3, and twitching.

the driver says nothing. the taxi bolts like it owes money.

by the time he gets to the store, it’s raining harder. his hoodie is clinging to him. he stomps into the harsh fluorescent lights of the 7/11 like a beast fresh from the underworld. the bored teenager behind the counter looks up from his phone, sees sukuna dripping in the doorway like a biblical omen, and quietly turns the music down.

sukuna marches down the aisles, finds the chocos (three boxes), the ramen (four packets — what if someone else wants it too??). he debates buying a chocolate bar. he deserves one.

he grabs five.

at the counter, he digs into his pocket, only to discover sodden, wrinkled currency notes, like they’ve time-travelled from a 1997 flood. he slams them on the counter.

“this better be legal tender,” he growls.

the teenager, paralyzed, nods. accepts the payment like a man receiving a haunted artifact.

when he finally gets home, the clock reads 11:41. he kicks off his soaked shoes, cracks his back so violently you hear it from the kitchen, and drags himself in like a war hero returning from a campaign. the twins — bless their souls — are still up, curled on the couch like sleepy puppies, eyes lighting up the second they see the owl on the box.

“you’re the best, daddy,” your daughter whispers, hugging the chocos like treasure. your son gives him a tired thumbs up and mumbles, “you look old.”

sukuna doesn’t even flinch. “i feel older than a grandpa’s bones, kid.”

you greet him with a kiss on the cheek and the grateful hum of someone receiving their noodle salvation. “you really are a good man.”

he slumps onto the sofa, soaking into the cushions, cracking his neck with a grimace. “next time,” he mutters, peeling off a wet sock, “i’m investing in a helicopter.”

“or,” you say, spooning noodles into your mouth, “you could just not give all three vehicles for servicing on the same day.”

he glares at you through his dripping hair.

you blow him a kiss.

and somewhere in the background, the twins are already arguing about who gets to pour the chocos first, blissfully unaware that their father just survived the rain-soaked chaos of a nocturnal snack quest.

he’d do it again in a heartbeat. but maybe next time, he’s wearing compression socks.

[nanaslutt]

“in another universe you and i are seahorses so i can get u pregnant”

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, crack, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

[gumiiiiezzzz]

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ oops! smau

summary: the 1st and 2nd year boys accidentally confess they like you (fellow student)!!!

warnings: f!reader, sfw, yuta’s convo is slightly suggestive, fluff/crack!, kys jokes

includes: toge inumaki, megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori, and yuta okkotsu * ੈ✩‧₊˚

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ my first ever smau post hehe! lmk if you guys liked or have any suggestions :P

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ inumaki being chronically online just… is one of the best jjk fanon tropes of all time ngl

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ submit requests! (if u want)! please! and thank u! 🫡

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ art creds and spilled frustrations ab ai art below line LMAO

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ link to header art: https://pin.it/mKP2o2S95

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ yuji pfp art: @11101AM on twt; megumi pfp art: FUCKING AI (i’ll change it for next time, im a boomer i GUESS i didnt realize how much of this was ai art im- 😐); toge pfp art: jujutsu kaisen anime heh; yuta pfp art: @zec3x on insta

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ i think the header is also ai generated ugh :/ i could not find the artist ANYWHERE but if anyone knows lmk i will give credit!!!!!

[sqtorux]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ · towel please!

⤿ you ask them to bring you a towel because you forgot one while you showered. these things happen :]

♥︎ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, yuta and toge.

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

SMAU- YOU ARE THE DESSERT !

Asking the guys to put whipped cream on them...

(Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Higuruma, Ino)

Masterlist Discord

[paranoiddreams]

Based off of THIS ADORABLE VIDEO OMG—

As soon as you walk into your daughter’s room, the first thing you notice is her empty bed. The Bluey blankets that were once warmly protecting her are now thrown to the floor haphazardly, and her Bingo plushie is long forgotten about. An immediate feeling of worry washes over you, so the first place you go is your and your husband’s shared bedroom.

“My love, where is—“

Your words cut off as soon as you spot two heads of fluffy white hair in your bed, a feeling of relief washing over you; at least you know where your daughter is now…

“Toru,” you lean over the bed, careful not to wake your little angle who’s sleeping cuddled against her dad’s chest, “Toru wake up.”

Satoru’s crystal eyes shoot open as soon as he feels your hand brush against the arm he’s using to hold your daughter against his chest. “Hm?” He hums sleepily, looking around as if he’d just taken a century long nap.

“My love,” you say, trying not to giggle, “we need to put her to bed.”

It takes a moment for Satoru to process your words, but once he does, a frown immediately appears on his face. “Nooo, we’re sleeping,” he mumbles, lying his head back down on his pillow.

“Baby, she needs to sleep in her own bed, remember?”

“Who made that rule?”

“We did,” you can’t help but laugh.

Satoru’s sleepy eyes look between you and the sleeping toddler in his arms, his expression resembling that of a man making the hardest decision he’s ever had to make.

“But she looks so precious…let her sleep,” he begs you.

You cock your head to the side, exhaling a huff of amusement. “I know she does, but she needs to sleep in her own—“

“Her own bed, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he meekly waves you off, “but she’s safe here. I’ll put her back tomorrow…”

“Toru, you’re not even making sense anymore,” you sigh, slipping under the covers to cuddle up to them, “just go to sleep, dork.”

[kashverse]

sukuna, for all his ruthlessness, for all his "king of the corporate world" nonsense, is a hopeless man when it comes to you. so when your birthday rolls around, it’s obvious what he’s going to do. "a thousand roses," he declares, arms crossed, smirking. "biggest fucking bouquet in the world. it’s gonna—"

"no."

he blinks. looks down. his daughter, all of five years old, stares up at him, hands on her hips, expression dead serious. "no?" he repeats, incredulous. "no what?"

she lifts a tiny finger. "no roses."

"the hell do you mean, no roses?"

"bad word!" she yells.

he sighs. "fine, fine—heck do you mean, no roses?"

she frowns, tapping her chin. "mama already gets roses. mama should get something cool." sukuna squints at her. "…like?"

his daughter suddenly beams. "LEGO!"

pause.

"…you want me to get your mom a lego set for her birthday?"

she nods enthusiastically.

sukuna, a grown-ass man, has never been stared down by someone so tiny and felt so defeated. "…fine," he mutters, rubbing his temples. "lego it is."

so that’s how he finds himself sitting at the dining table with his daughter at 11 pm the night before your birthday, helping her put together a lego flower bouquet.

"alright, gimme the little green stem—"

"papa, no! that not where it go!"

sukuna looks at her. then at the piece in his hand. then at the instruction booklet.

"…yeah, it is."

"no, it go here!" she insists, slapping his hand away and shoving the piece in the completely wrong spot. he stares at it. he stares at her.

"that’s not where it goes."

"yes it is," she says confidently.

"no, it fucking isn’t—"

"BAD WORD!"

he groans. "—no, it freaking isn’t!"

she glares at him.

he glares back.

…then sighs.

"fine," he mutters, leaning back. "you’re the boss."

"yes," she nods. "i am."

he exhales, watching as she enthusiastically shoves pieces together. she suddenly pauses.

"papa."

"what?"

"we add angel and labubu."

"why?"

"protection."

he stares at her. then, without a word, he gets up, goes to her hoard of sonny angels and labubus, and hands her two of them. she grins, placing them carefully on either side of the bouquet. "perfect," she declares.

when you come home, exhausted from work, you’re immediately ambushed by your daughter.

"MAMA!"

"happy birthday," sukuna calls lazily from the couch, arms crossed behind his head. before you can respond, your daughter shoves the lego bouquet into your hands, bouncing excitedly.

"LOOK!"

you blink, taking it in. a full lego flower bouquet, colorful, adorable, and—

"…is that a sonny angel and labubu?"

"yes!" she nods aggressively. "they keep it safe!" you laugh, heart swelling, before crouching down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "baby, this is amazing," you grin. "thank you!"

"papa helped!" she says, beaming. you look up at sukuna, amused. "you built legos?" he grunts. "against my will."

your daughter gasps dramatically. "papa! you like it!"

"…i tolerated it," he mutters.

"you LOVE it!"

"alright, chill out," he grumbles, ruffling her hair.

you shake your head, placing the bouquet on the table. "best gift ever," you say sincerely, smiling at them both. sukuna watches you. then, quietly, he smirks. "yeah," he mutters. "best gift ever."

[cuntyji]

will be writing this as a full-length fic soon…..amen!!

your relationship with nanami kento is the definition of ironic.

the office sees him as the perfect gentleman—level-headed, dependable, the very image of an ideal husband. meanwhile, you? you are the sweet, naive darling of the workplace, someone who gasps at crude jokes and stumbles over words when discussing anything remotely risqué. ‘a match made in heaven,’ they all say.

except, unbeknownst to your dear colleagues, you are a raging nymphomaniac with a one-track mind and a concerning dedication to testing nanami’s limits. 

and unbeknownst to you, nanami is a retired playboy who has seen, done, and invented things that would make your little schemes look like a child's game of seduction.

case #1

it’s after work, and you two are in the break room. you “accidentally” drop your pen, bending down waaaayyyy too slow to pick it up, making sure your skirt rides up just enough to be suggestive. when you glance up at nanami, expecting maybe a sharp inhale, a slight stutter, anything—he just averts his eyes politely and sighs. “you should be more careful,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.

…excuse me? that was textbook seduction! and all he’s giving you is a life lesson? “right,” you mutter, picking up the pen and standing up. he hums in response, unbothered. internally, you are seething. externally, you giggle and twirl a strand of hair around your finger.

but, on the other side of things—inside nanami’s mind, sirens are blaring. red alert. red alert. his eyes are on the ceiling. his knuckles are white around his coffee cup. he is chanting sutras in his head because he is one wrong move away from pinning you against the fridge. but no. no. he will not be like his past self. he will not ruin your innocence with his past perversions. “next time, hold onto your pen properly,” he adds.

you nearly choke. that sounded so suggestive. was that suggestive? but his face remains neutral. damn it.

case #2

one morning, you decide to test the waters by “accidentally” wearing one of nanami’s dress shirts to breakfast. you stretch a little tooooo much while reaching for the honey, making sure the fabric lifts enough to tease him. “oh no,” you say, “i think i grabbed the wrong shirt! it’s so big on me, kento.” you add a slight pout for effect. nanami doesn’t even blink. “ah, my mistake for folding it with your laundry.”

you stare at him. that’s it? not even a pause before responding? no flustered reaction? what is this man made of?????

meanwhile, nanami is gripping his fork like it’s a stress ball. the sight of you in his shirt is awakening something inside him that he spent years suppressing. memories of past flings, of long nights and tangled sheets, of being far from the gentleman he’s known as today—no. no. he is different now. he is refined. composed. civilized. “you should eat before your food gets cold,” he adds, stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth before he can say something dangerous.

you slump in your chair. you’re starting to think your boyfriend might actually be asexual.

case #3

you opt for the classic “watch a horror movie together” trick. the goal? get scared and cling to nanami, maybe “accidentally” bury your face into his chest. standard. foolproof. except—

“you’re shaking,” nanami notes. you look up at him, eyes wide and watery. yes. yes. take the bait. comfort me, kento.

he reaches for the remote.

“huh?”

he turns the movie off.

“i don’t think this is good for you,” he says. “we should sleep.”

…you are speechless.

meanwhile, nanami is on his last thread of sanity. if you keep clutching his arm like that, he is going to fold. but he will not. he cannot. he must protect your innocence. even if it kills him.

case #4

one rainy evening, you come home completely drenched from forgetting your umbrella. hair dripping, clothes clinging to every curve—you look like the lead actress of a romcom who is about to get thoroughly ravished by the male lead. nanami, who opens the door for you, malfunctions. but on the outside? his face remains blank. “you should change before you catch a cold.”

what. the. fuck.

“c-can you lend me one of your shirts?” you try, shivering. “of course.” and with that, he disappears into the bedroom, returning with sweatpants and a hoodie.

A HOODIE.

where is the white button-up? the gray sweatpants?  you take the clothes in silence. this is your lowest point.

meanwhile, nanami is pouring himself a glass of ice water. his soul is escaping his body.

case #5

you decide to take a break from your antics. maybe you were reading into things too much. maybe nanami truly is just that reserved. maybe…maybe he just isn’t interested in you that way.

that night, nanami is in bed, scrolling through his phone when he stumbles upon a post:

"when a man truly loves you, he will control himself so he doesn't ruin you."

he stares at the post. then at the ceiling. “ah,” he mutters.

so that’s why.

in the darkness of your shared bedroom, you both lay in silence—both believing you’re the one restraining yourself for the sake of the other.

a tragic comedy. a love story with too many misunderstandings.

a match made in heaven.

[retiredteabag]

"The line is breaking up"

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, Megumi, and special guests… Suguru and Ino !!

Synopsis: In which you end a phone call with them because of reception issues but they misunderstand…

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[alpali]

asking haikyuu boys if you can get them pregnant…?

I made this at like 3 am…I just wanted a little bit of silliness