hi baby

⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ m.list

you were practically the only concubine sukuna ever asked for anymore.

because why would he ask for anyone else? you were the only woman that satisfied him. the only woman that dared to challenge him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but there was something special about you — intriguing. he often caught himself watching you pad around the gardens, barefoot, cupping the roses in your hands as you inhale their sweet scent, appreciating the little things in life as they came.

“tsk… pathetic humans and their need to romanticise everything…" he hisses under his breath, observing you from his window.

yet he refuses to look away, all four crimson eyes drawn to you, the way your soft body moves with such natural grace, the way you were alive with such warmth and curiosity.

the other concubines lived in fear of sukuna, moving like frightened birds when he was near — desperate to please.

but you?

you always adressed him with such casual confidence, like he wasn’t twice your size with four gigantic arms, four eyes, and a mouth on his stomach that looks like it wants to eat you alive.

what he enjoyed most about you was that you weren’t some frail, petite little thing like the rest of them.

sure, you were still pathetic compared to him, but at least you had some meat on your bones — full breasts, a soft stomach, hips wide enough to bare his children.

it got to the point where no one dared to say one bad thing about you, or even so much as look at you the wrong way. anyone that did seemingly ended up deceased or "missing."

sukuna would deny up and down that it was him when you’d ask, the man who takes pride in killing wouldn’t admit the lengths he’d go to for you.

"how strange," he’d say, his expression bored and stoic as always.

but you knew. of course you knew.

although, you only realised the depth of his quiet obsession when he began asking you to his chambers every single evening without fail.

you often take your time before meeting with him, combing your hair fifty times over, spending an extra hour bathing, not because you need to, because you can.

because you know he’ll wait.

"have i kept you waiting long?" you say, entering through the large doors as uraume closes them swiftly behind you.

sukuna’s eyes immediately find you, looking you up and down, both of his monstrous cocks hardening knowing what he’s about to do to you.

"…not at all," he purrs, a slight grin forming on his face.

A/N; making this a series so feel free to req some stuff! this is just kinda an intro post to it hehe

ೃ࿔*:･

Your best friend Satoru happily agreed when you asked him to be your plus one to a friend's wedding.

Your shitty ex was on the guest list and you couldn't bear the thought of showing up alone. Better yet, you asked Satoru to help make him jealous, batting your pretty lashes at him while you asked so sweetly. How could he possibly say no?

Your best friend Satoru, who you dragged along with you to shop for a dress. He pretended to be inconvenienced, of course, but in reality watching you light up over shoes you "had to have" and blush when you tried on a revealing dress might've been the highlight of his life.

He wasn't much help when it came to actually choosing a dress, considering that he thought you looked beautiful in everything you tried on. But when you found the dress, Satoru was at a loss for words—unsettling behavior from someone who was well known for never shutting up.

"You're quiet," you frowned, silky blue fabric twirling as you spun away from the mirror to face him. "You don't like it?"

Black swallowed blue as his pupils dilated, eyes looking you over from head to toe slowly, cataloguing every divine detail.

"Just speechless is all," he said finally, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. "It's like it was made for you."

Your best friend Satoru, who insisted on finding a tie that perfectly matched your dress. He was committed to the task, dragging you along to store after store. "Payback" he'd called it, for generously buying your dress, although he'd do it again 10 times over for only the smile on your face in return.

Your best friend Satoru, who nodded eagerly when you offered to put his tie on him, struggling to form coherent thoughts with your pretty face just inches from his. He shuddered when your fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck and silently hoped you didn't notice.

Your best friend Satoru, who drove to the wedding so you wouldn't have to worry about drinking. Plus, he pointed out, you'd look "hot and mysterious" showing up in his expensive sports car. He was right if the look your ex shot you as the two of you pulled up was any indication.

As he opened the door and helped you out, his large hand found its way to the small of your back. It stayed there for most of the evening.

Your best friend Satoru, who held you close, always touching you somewhere; your hips, your waist, your face. He had to be convincing after all, especially with the man who fumbled you watching.

Your best friend Satoru, who grew bolder as the night went on. His touch grew more possessive with every glance your undeserving ex stole, and his hands began to wander when you leaned approvingly into his touch. His fingertips traced lazy circles over the silky fabric that concealed your thigh, and Satoru couldn't suppress a grin when you hummed approvingly, satisfied with his touch.

Your best friend Satoru, who led you by the hand to the dance floor when a slow song came on. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces as he held you close, dancing with a calm confidence that quietly urged you to follow his lead.

⋆୨୧˚ ✦ SUMMARY In which Gojo is stupidly and utterly obsessed with you.

CREDS. gojo art - thatsallitchief, pics found on Pinterest, divider by @/strangergraphics

CONTENT. FLUFF Gojo being a hazard to himself and society, not rlly proofread. WC. 0.6k

A/N. You missed me sooooo badddd ahahaha you wanted me back sooooo badddd hahahahah......

You and Satoru had an interesting relationship.

Formed through a combination of Gojo's nagging and complete inability to respect others' boundaries, you were dragged into what could only be described as a one-sided romantic (non)friendship—against your will of course.

The moment you walked into Jujutsu High, you already felt it.

felt him.

That unmistakable presence that made the hairs on your neck stand and your eye twitch in pure annoyance.

Because Satoru gojo was standing in the hallways like a six-foot-three LED billboard on the Vegas strip, waving at you with both of his lanky arms like a toddler lacking self awareness.

"Y/N!!!" he shouted as if you were across a football field and not a mere 10 feet away.

you sigh, and blink once. "Why are you yelling."

"Wanted to make sure you saw me," he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall.

He brings a hand up to push off his blindfold, revealing his terrifyingly blue eyes.

They sparkled. Literally. Like someone installed RGB lighting in his head.

"put the blindfold back on please," you said. "you look like a glowstick."

Gojo gasps, clutching his chest and stumbling back. "You wound me. These eyes are a national treasure. Wait no- global."

"no they're a safety hazard."

"you're so hot when you're mean to me," he sighs, trailing behind you while you ran around the teachers lounge moving papers and files.

"don't you have a job to do, Gojo?" You finally turn to him.

"Yeah. Admiring you," he winks at you.

"Do you have something in your eyes?"

"Just blinded by your beauty," he smiles.

Eventually, after threatening to report him to HR, he ran off to go harrass another innocent person while you got to working on planning your next lesson for the first years.

for a little while at least, the halls were quiet. calm, even. Until they werent.

Gojo teleported to your side, leaning down so close you could feel his hair tickle the side of your face.

"Hi," he whispered. "miss me?"

"no," you instantly replied.

he froze before grinning. "Liar."

you didnt look up from your paperwork. "What do you want?"

"you." he sat in the chair beside you, kicking his up onto the table and right by your head. you glared at him.

"soooo," he began, "when are we going on that date you havent agreed to yet?"

"we're not."

"Great! I'll pick you up at seven."

"Gojo-"

he vanished before you could finish.

then reappeared. "seven thirty?"

"NO."

“Eight?”

“Stop.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands up in defense. “We’ll compromise.”

You cap your pen before setting it down. “On what.”

He smiled, eyes growing wide in excitement behind his blindfold.

“You pick the time. I’ll pick the place.”

You gave him a blank stare, although you for some reason couldn't help but find his persistence charming.

“I hate you.”

"yeah you hate me now, but you'll love me eventually," he says, tugging gently at a strand of your hair.

"when is eventually?" you ask.

"when we're married with 3 kids and a dog and a fish and a house on the lakeside," he explains.

"right..."

you turn your head, looking at the indents in his blindfold where his eyes are. you saw the way his hair stuck up in every which way, the white strands reflecting the dull overhead lights.

you always noticed the way his shoulders untensed when he was around you, and how his infinity always faltered.

The way he looked at you like he'd already made up his mind about you years ago, when you first made your way through the threshold of Jujutsu High.

That was the problem.

I mean, you said he was annoying, but you never said he was ugly. it's not that he wasn't the typical guy you would go for—because he was very much your type—you were just scared to be in a relationship with the life you live.

You didn't want to lose someone you cared so deeply about, and unfortunately for you, you dont think Gojo is going to let you go anytime soon.

you sigh, "...Fine. Seven."

His face lights up.

"perfect," he whispers.

𖦹 content. k.bakugou x reader. fluff

Katsuki Bakugou liked to think he wasn’t the type of person who got distracted.

He trained harder than anyone else in Class 1-A. He didn’t waste time daydreaming. He didn’t stare out windows. He certainly didn’t spend entire lessons watching someone instead of paying attention.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

The problem was you.

Bakugou still remembered the first time he saw you. It wasn’t dramatic. No slow motion. No grand realization.

You had simply walked into class on your first day, looking mildly annoyed because your bag strap had gotten caught on the door handle.

Most people would’ve ignored it.

Bakugou didn’t.

And somehow, after that, he never stopped noticing you.

At first, it was accidental.

He noticed how you always arrived a few minutes early.

How you tapped your pencil against your desk whenever you were thinking.

How you scrunched your nose when reading difficult material.

How you secretly slipped snacks to Kaminari whenever he forgot breakfast.

Tiny things. Meaningless things.

Things he absolutely shouldn’t have remembered.

Yet somehow, they stayed.

Watching you became a habit.

Then the habit became his favorite part of the day.

He’d catch sight of you laughing with your friends in the hallway.

See you practicing your quirk after class.

Hear your voice across the training grounds.

And every single time, something inside him settled.

Which was incredibly irritating, because Bakugou Katsuki didn’t do feelings. Especially not whatever this was.

Unfortunately, his classmates were beginning to notice.

One afternoon, everyone was gathered in the common room.

You sat across the room, completely unaware.

Bakugou wasn’t even trying to stare.

He just happened to glance up.

And then glance up again. And again. And maybe a fourth time.

“Bro.” Kirishima’s voice cut through the silence.

Bakugou frowned. “What?”

Kirishima looked between him and you.

Then back at him. “Oh.”

Bakugou immediately hated that tone. “Oh what?”

Kaminari suddenly sat up. “What? What happened?”

Kirishima pointed. At him. Then at you.

Bakugou’s stomach dropped. “No.”

“Oh my god,” Kaminari gasped.

“NO.”

“You like her!”

“I DON’T.”

“You’ve been staring at her for fifteen minutes.”

“I HAVE NOT.”

“You literally smiled.”

The room went silent.

Bakugou froze. “…What?”

Kaminari looked horrified. “Dude.”

Kirishima looked equally shocked. “Dude.”

Bakugou’s eye twitched. “What are you idiots talking about?”

“You smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I DID NOT.”

“You looked at her like she just won the Sports Festival.”

Bakugou felt heat crawl up his neck.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

He was careful. Nobody was supposed to notice.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, you looked up.

Your eyes met his.

For one terrible second, neither of you looked away.

Then you smiled. A small one. Soft and warm.

Only for him.

And Bakugou forgot how to breathe.

Across the room, Kaminari slammed both hands over his mouth.

Kirishima looked like he was witnessing history.

Bakugou immediately stood. “I’m leaving.”

“You’ve got it bad.”

“SHUT UP.”

He stormed out of the common room while laughter erupted behind him.

But as he walked away, one thought lingered stubbornly in his mind.

Because for all his efforts to hide it—

for all the years he’d spent pretending not to care—

there was one truth he could never escape.

Watching you had become his favorite habit.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop anymore.

fluff

​“you’re terrible at this,” you mutter, squinting as you try to read the faded print on the back of a box of instant pancake mix.

​toji is leaning against your kitchen counter, his massive arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a look of lazy amusement. he’s wearing one of your oversized t-shirts that looks ridiculously tight on him, the fabric straining against his shoulders. “i didn’t come here to be a chef. i came here because my apartment doesn’t have electricity right now.”

​“yeah, well, if you’re going to crash here, you’re helping.” you point a finger at him. “stir the batter.”

​he lets out a low, huffing chuckle, stepping up behind you. he’s so large he completely blocks out the light from the kitchen window, his shadow enveloping yours. instead of taking the bowl, toji just reaches around you, his chest pressing flush against your back, his large hands resting over yours on the counter.

​“like this?” he asks, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. his voice is a low, teasing rumble that makes your heart do a stupid flip.

​“you’re not even stirring, you’re just standing there,” you huff, trying to ignore how hot your face feels.

​toji doesn’t move. he just leans his chin heavily on your shoulder, his thumb casually rubbing circles against your hip. “exactly. i'm doing a great job.”

a/n: tojiey the brokey, idk man.

‘ perm. tags , @sh0dor1

Osamu whips around on instinct, confusion quickly taking over when he sees you storming straight toward him.

Fast. Angry.

Gorgeous.

He’s sure he’s never seen you before, but the way you’re looking at him, it seems you’ve definitely seen him.

You’re frowning, anger written all over your face, but all he can think is how unfair it is that someone this pissed off can look that good.

He barely has time to process what’s happening before you’re right in front of him, foot tapping, arms crossed, irritation rolling off you in waves.

“Hey asshole,” you snap, “I know you think you’re too good for this group project but if you don’t get your shit together I’m gonna shove your volleyball so far up your ass you’ll be tasting it for years”

Osamu blinks.

Once.

Twice.

“…Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you fake blonde” you fire back instantly.

Oh.

The dots finally connect in his brain, this is not about him. Unfortunately, that realization comes just a second too late, because you’re already going again, words sharp and relentless.

“Just because you think you’re hot shit doesn’t mean you get to ditch your part and leave the rest of us hanging!”

The dumbstruck look on his face does nothing to calm the anger burning in your stomach. You scoff, eyes rolling on instinct, “Helloooo? What, did you finally take one too many balls to the head?”

He knows he looks stupid right now. Feels it, too. Mouth slightly open, eyes stuck on you like he forgot how to function.

God.

He’s in love, has to be.

He opens his mouth, ready to correct you, maybe even flirt a little..

“Get your part done” you cut in, “You look fucking stupid in a hat, by the way”.

Ouch.

You flash him quick, biting smile, spinning on your heel and leaving in a silent fury.

He just stands there, heart beating way too fast for someone who just got verbally torn apart for no reason.

“…Man,” he mutters under his breath, a slow grin spreading across his face, “…Atsumu, yer so screwed.”

He continues his walk home like nothing happened, but your face is already burned into his brain.

That little frown.

The attitude.

The confidence.

The way you didn’t hesitate for even a second to go off on someone twice your size.

Yeah.

He doesn’t even bother fighting it.

He’s in love.

————————————————————————

A/N: Osamu “yes ma’am, whatever you say ma’am” Miya 🫡

There’s a photo booth tucked into a quiet corner of the mall. Its faded plastic siding and heavy velvet curtain make it look like a relic from another decade. You stop so abruptly that he almost walks into you.

“Oh, no,” he says immediately, already knowing what you’re about to make him do.

You turn with bright eyes. “Kuna.”

"A photo booth? Seriously?" Sukuna flatly cuts in and takes a step back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, looking at the machine like it’s an insult to his intelligence. "We're adults, not high schoolers on a first date. I’m not squeezing into that tiny fucking box."

“You are,” you insist, reaching for him with both hands.

fluff

gojo’s fingers are stained with a faint trace of soot and grease, his expensive black silk shirt torn slightly at the shoulder where a stray bullet had grazed him an hour ago. he doesn’t seem to notice or care. he’s sitting on the edge of the polished mahogany desk in his private office, one long leg dangling off the side, watching you pace the floor.

​he wears his usual dark sunglasses instead of the heavy blindfold, the bright blue of his eyes visible beneath the rims.

​“you’re going to wear a hole in my rug, sweetheart,” he hums, his voice entirely too light for someone who just survived a coordinated ambush by a rival family.

​“ou could have died, satoru!” you snap, stopping right in front of him, your hands trembling as you glare up at his smug face. “you took off your vest. you promised me you wouldn’t do something stupid.”

​gojo’s smirk softens, the playful, dangerous mask completely dropping from his features. he reaches out, his massive hands catching you by the waist and pulling you firmly between his knees. the heat radiating off his body is sudden and overwhelming. he tilts his head down, his dark glasses sliding down his nose so he can look directly into your eyes with an intense, fierce gravity.

​“i took it off because it was slowing me down,” he whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight against your chest. his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek with an achingly slow, careful pressure. “the only thing that scares me in this city is the thought of someone getting past me to get to you. i’m the strongest man in the underground, my love. but the second you cry? i feel like i’m losing the whole world.”

a/n: everyone i write are losers in love, how i love simps ;(

‘ perm. tags , @sh0dor1

Satoru meets you on a fleeting day that only September knows how to do. The autumn afternoon tasted of woodsmoke, the sky a deep blue that seemed to go on forever. The soccer field impossibly green against the fire of the turning trees, gold and scarlet leaves drifting lazily across the track, the whole campus holding its breath… Or maybe none of it looked like that at all.

Maybe it was only because seeing you standing there made Satoru's whole world arrange itself into something worth looking at.

fluff

the cigarette between satoru’s lips burns down to the filter, a thin trail of smoke curling up past the jagged, pale scar that cuts directly through his left eyebrow and runs down to his cheekbone. he’s leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway, his tailored black suit jacket unbuttoned, looking entirely too relaxed for a man who just cleared a room of rival syndicates single-handedly.

​you’re leaning against his chest, shivering slightly from the cold rain, his heavy cashmere overcoat slung over your shoulders. his left hand is resting flat against the wall right next to your head, effectively locking you into his space, while his right hand gently pinches your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

​with his dark sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, those piercing blue eyes lock onto yours. “i told you to stay in the car,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates right against your ribs.

​“i got worried,” you whisper, your fingers tightening around the lapels of his coat.

​satoru spits the cigarette butt onto the wet asphalt, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face. he leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear, his thumb smoothing over your lower lip with a rough, calloused gentleness. “worried about me? sweetheart, you know full well what i’m capable of. but...” he drops his forehead against yours, his breath warm and smelling faintly of tobacco and mint. “the fact that you care makes me want to do something really stupid. like kiss you senseless.”

a/n: was honestly js looking at a scarjo fanart..

‘ perm. tags , @sh0dor1

frat!gojo, who swears he’s not possessive over you—you guys are friends, the kind of people who can joke about terrible dates and worse hookups, taking bike rides to the beach in the dead of night, laying in the sand and staring at the stars, the kind of people who know each other inside out, close enough to test the boundaries of what’s platonic but never enough for it to be romantic.

frat!gojo, who hates how nervous he gets around you—he’s good with women, with sorority girls throwing themselves in his direction all the time, but you’re just different. you’re soft, you’re sweet and when you look at him he can feel his words die down in his throat, blood rushing to his head when you smile at him, it’s damn near pathetic.

frat!gojo, who always butts into conversations you have with other people, trying his hardest not to punch suguru through a wall while he whispers into your ears, making you laugh the way only gojo is allowed to :c.

frat!gojo, who always waits outside your classes until they’re done, following you around like a lost puppy, hogging all your attention all day—well, he’s a lot more interesting than the rest of your friends anyway, can you blame him?

frat!gojo, who’s always begging you to go to his frat parties—you know that it’s just his excuse to wanting to see you all dolled up and on his arm, but a part of you also wants to make him suffer every single time you set foot into one of his parties.

frat!gojo, who’s has the wind knocked out of his lungs the second you make your way through the door, your dress shimmering in the shitty lights, your jewellery shining through while you awkwardly wave at him from the entrance.

frat!gojo, who’s at your side instantly, pulling you closer to him by your waist, bringing his glass of vodka to your lips while you tilt your head back, swallowing while staring right at his pretty blue eyes. and gojo nearly has his heart beat out of his chest—the way you were looking at him really wasn’t fair, your eyes all wide and trusting it just wasn’t good for his heart.

frat!gojo, who swears he doesn’t do relationships—he doesn’t know what it means to be a good boyfriend, but when he looks at you, he knows that he can try.

frat!gojo, who slowly has his chaotic facade crumble before you—he’s softer around you, more genuine, it’s like his fratboy persona switches off the second he has you in his vicinity it’s almost comical.

frat!gojo, who holds himself back when he sees people asking you out. he knows it isn’t fair to be all jealous over you, you aren’t even his, but a part of him knows that if he doesn’t get his act together, someone will swoop in and take his place.

frat!gojo, who’s petrified of losing you—and the only way he knows how to show it is to be insufferable, constantly annoying you, making sure he’s part of your daily life so you don’t forget about him.

frat!gojo, who’s so down bad his frat brothers almost feel sorry for him, watching him eye you from the distance, just hoping someday, he’ll have to courage to get closer to you.

:3 he’s so laaaame

satoru is down bad, reader is kinda mean, pining, suggestive, satoru is annoying (canon), reader is in love now but they dodge it

part 5 | part 6 | part 7

a/n HIII im back i have so much stuff irl but tumblr literally brings me joy lmaoo so i wrote this rq. english is not my first language so yk

⭑ ⭑ ⭑

you never mention any of it — the soup, the caring, the shower. satoru takes two days off to recover. he texts you nonstop after he gets a little better and now you can’t stop smiling from how annoying he is.

shoko is looking knowingly at you while you try to stay calm. you don’t hold for long, though. “what?” you scoff and she laughs at you, her long fingers playing with a cigarette.

“stop smiling like an idiot. who you texting?”

you don’t answer. she already knows.

“and here i thought he was the one whipped. girl, you’re glowing.” shoko sheepishly says, eyes crinkling as you roll yours and turn away. she starts smoking and opens window further so the smoke won’t get into the apartment.

“it’s the new serum i’m using.” you reply trying to dodge all the allegations but fail miserably when your phone tings and you quickly look to see if it’s satoru.

“damn, serums text their owners nowadays?”

you leave her without any answer, just flipping your friend off.

⭑ ⭑ ⭑

“earth to my precious baby,” satoru says right by your ear, making you groan. you open your eyes and see him already giggling like a child he is. when you roll to the side and pull the blanket higher to continue sleeping, he protests, “no, no, no. we have a lecture in twenty.”

“i don’t.” you mumble and slowly drift off as he traces her fingers along your hips. “satoru, leave me alone—“

“don’t say it like that, i’m fragile,” he sighs and pouts – you can tell it from the way his fingers stop and his voice changes slightly. “stop pouting, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“i don’t— okay now you’re being scary. how did you know?”

“you’re predictable.” you say, trying to fall asleep.

“no, i’m not!”

“gojo, i swear—“

“okay if i am predictable, was it predictable i’m gonna do this–“

you don’t register what happens. he starts tickling you so hard you yelp. he gets your stomach, hands and the spot you hate the most because it’s too sensitive — your neck.

you hated how satoru knew so much.

“sa-sa-satoru! st-stop!”

you laugh together and he ends up on top of you, your head caged between his hands. and in that moment, satoru looks too domestic, too cozy. he looks like someone you would spend your life with.

and it terrifies you.

maybe he sees that in your eyes, because he quickly pecks your lips and leans away, still smiling.

satoru knew he was trouble. everyone said that. his family (mostly, lovingly), his friends, professors, people around him. but you? you were much bigger trouble for him. and he was completely fine with that.

he just couldn’t understand why would you reject him. he thought you liked him, too?

after awkward silence you quickly gather your things and leave. satoru doesn’t stop you because he knows if you have set your mind you’re doing it one way or another.

laying in bed naked and sad, satoru texts suguru. his best friend will totally get him and help, right?

…right?

satoru tells him everything and waits but his best friend ignores him. what a douchebag.

when he’s all alone in the class he doesn’t even care about, he slouches in an uncomfortable chair and texts suguru again, thinking this time geto will be in a better mood and help.

frat!sukuna, who first insisted that your relationship was strictly sex, nothing more—with some flimsy excuse about how he doesn’t have the time for a relationship, doesn’t have the time to commit to something that serious, and about how a relationship would only drag him down.

so he does what any good friend situationship?would do—he shows up to your place, fucks you until you can’t remember your own name, and leaves before something in his chest convinces him to stay.

frat!sukuna, who has to have you facing him to cum, something about just looking at your face contort in pleasure while you take him in, the way tears rim your eyes while he thrusts into you languidly—he simply can’t bring himself to cum if he isn’t look at you and your pretty face drunk on his cock.

frat!sukuna, who tries to walk out of your apartment the second he’s done with you, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. so he lingers, hovers around your sleeping form until you finally drag him back under your sheets, calling him ridiculous while he presses soft kisses to the back of your neck.

frat!sukuna, who has your drink order memorised to perfection, always leaving your sugary concoction of a drink on your desk before each class begins with a scrawled on note that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’

frat!sukuna, who never denies anything when his frat brothers start calling you his girlfriend—it’s too much work to correct them, he says, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge the same shade as his hair every single time one of them pats him on the back and calls you his girl.

frat!sukuna, who always has to have you close to him, with his arm slug around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist when he’s near you.

“it’s to make sure you don’t run away.”

“now, why would i do that?”

frat!sukuna, who almost decks toji in the face when he sees him flirting with you, his split lip curled into a girl while you laughed at his stupid jokes and for one second, sukuna’s afraid he’s going to lose this, that he’s going to lose you.

frat!sukuna, who starts tiptoeing around the idea of a relationship, insisting he takes you on dates—taking you out to fancy restaurants and late night bike rides when he knows exam stress starts to take over your brain. he’s spent enough time around you to know everything there is to know, but what sukuna doesn’t know is how to handle a relationship.

frat!sukuna, who’s been treating you like his girlfriend since the start, never skipping aftercare, always being there at your every beck and call—and avoiding every girl that had eyes for him like the plague since he met you.

“good god, did she neuter you, kuna?” toji slurred between drinks while sukuna tried to dodge the sorority girls coming his way.

“shut up.”

frat!sukuna, who’s softer during sex now, worshipping your body endlessly, covering you in soft kisses and bites marks before he eats you out like a man starved.

frat!sukuna, who’s basically a guard dog around you, glaring at everyone who so much as shows even mild interest in you, clinging to you like a needy puppy every second of the day that he possibly can.

frat!sukuna, who has words stuck in his throat every single time he tries to ask you out, always stuttering out nonsense he didn’t mean to say because, what if you turn him down? and what if there’s someone better?

frat!sukuna, who gets you a massive bouquet of your favourite flowers, showing up to your apartment in the dead of night, flowers scrunched in his hand, his chest heaving when he finally asks you out.

frat!sukuna, who tries to hide his flustered face when you finally say yes, spinning you around in his arms while he kisses the top of your head—because after all the mental gymnastics he’s done to have you in his arms, he finally gets to call you his girl.

eek.

dividers: @/pixopix .

Hi!◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ I was wondering if you would be able to write a Patrick Jane (The Mentalist) x Reader with this prompt “She never smiles…” “you’ve never seen her looking at you then.” with Patrick saying the first part? Of course you don't have to if you don't want to!⸜( > ᴗ <)⸝♡ - Anon💜

He’d been fascinated by you, usually Jane could predict what people were going to do but with you it was harder.

He could get a read of you like everybody else, if you were having a good day, a bad day, things like that, but when it came to guessing your next move you always kept him on his toes.

Nothing was as simple as it seemed either you.

Walking over to your desk, Jane set you down your favourite coffee and beamed brightly at you as you looked up at him.

“What’s this for?” You asked.

“You’ve been busy all morning, you haven’t had your daily coffee yet.”

You took a sip of the coffee, nodding your head as you stood up, grabbing a couple of files.

“Thanks Jane, I’ve got a meeting but I’ll be back in an hour or so for our game of chess.”

He smiled softly, watching as you walked down the hallway.

Then he frowned a little bit, sitting down in your chair as he looked through your desk.

Most of the time you kept books or games for him in there to keep him from getting too bored, and finally he found what he was looking for, and he started going through the books.

“It’s illegal to go through a federal agents desk Jane.”

He looked up at Rigsby.

“I’m looking for a book, but I do have a question for you.”

Rigsby gave a small nod of his head, leaning against the desk behind him.

“Have you ever made (Y/N) smile?”

Rigsby thought for a moment, then he finally shook his head.

“No, I don’t think anybody has.”

Jane nodded his head, getting his book and stood up, making his way over to his couch.

He’d tried a lot to get you to smile, getting you your favourite things, playing small jokes on you, showing you photos of baby animals because everybody loved them.

But you didn’t smile.

He wouldn’t say you were emotionless, you had great control over your emotions, but he did recall them all saying you used to be an undercover agent.

When you came back from your meeting, you came back with Lisbon, and she walked over to him while you walked over to your desk.

Jane studied you as you spoke with Grace and Choi.

“She never smiles…” He mumbled.

Jane looked up at Lisbon.

“You’ve never seen her looking at you then.” She smiled.

With that, she left, and he went back to reading.

As evening came around, you weren’t getting ready to go home when you noticed him sitting ready.

You smiled a little bit, and began packing your things again, only turning around when you were done and you found him stood in front of you.

The little smile quickly fell as you took a few steps back.

“Jeez Jane, you can’t be sneaking up on people it’s how you get hurt.”

He grinned a little.

“You smiled at me!” He beamed.

“I didn’t..” you grumbled.

You brushed past him as he quickly followed you.

“You have a really beautiful smile.” He said softly.

a/n: "jess wtf is this??" well it's an idea that wouldn't leave my brain until it was done ok. i don't even know who would fuck with this but here you go enjoy patrick jane being soft. is this the thing that gets me back into writi g period?? who knows man but this felt nice to write enjoy yall

- - -

“What are you doing on my couch?” The soft voice that worms into your ears only makes the pressure behind your eyes pound even more.

"It’s not your couch, Jane," you grumble, "and it should be pretty obvious what I'm doing."

Even with your eyes closed, you can still hear the faint smile in Jane's voice. "Okay, fine. I'll redirect. Why are you on my couch?"