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Dante tries to mind his business and ignore the painfully unfunny guy hitting on you at his signature ice cream shop, but he can’t bear to watch his girl get snatched away by some bad-joke-making loser!
Tags: fluff, mild cursing, lowkey a cornball fic but still enjoyable, Dante only has eyes for you (and maybe some stank eyes for the chud tryna steal his girl)
Sitting at the bar, chowing down on his delectable strawberry Sunday, the white haired boy couldn’t help but notice the thug that was talking to his beautiful girlfriend.
It started out as a simple conversation, and Dante let it slide. “I like your shirt,” or whatever unfunny one-liners the guy threw at you to try and make you laugh. Of course, Dante knows he’s the only person able to make you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt, but he was still sad when you giggled (even if it was only a bit) at his clearly unfunny jokes.
Now, all the weirdo is talking about to you are really bad pick-up lines to try and get you to come to his place.
For your sake, and mostly his, he figured that it was time to finally step in and be the heroic figure that would save you from you certain demise; AKA getting kidnapped by this creep.
“Listen pal, you’ve been talking to my girl nonstop since you got here and it’s been pissing me off.”
The guy flirting with you finally took notice of Dante.
“Oh damn, this your girl? Couldn’t tell by how you didn’t even glance at her. I thought you were a total stranger to her!”
That set him off. Him? A stranger? To you? The person he shares late night snacks with and can’t fall asleep without being next to?
Oh yeah, this guy was gonna get it.
“Alright let’s take this outside, or maybe you wanna save yourself from the embarrassment and leave before I kick your ass.”
Dante got off his barstool and stepped closer to the punk, attempting to intimidate him.
“Alright guys that’s enough….” You tried to defuse the situation, but just got a hand from Dante.
“Nah, I’m gonna show this guy what happens when he tries to steal my girl…”
5 minutes later that rando was face first in the dirt.
“Damn, didn’t know you were so protective of me…” you eyed Dante, teasing him a bit.
“Yep. Love you to much to let you get stolen from me, especially if it’s right in front of my eyes. Now, let’s get home please… there’s a creepy looking guy over there that’s been eyeing us the past few minutes.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve been kicking that guys ass the past few minutes.”
Dante took a minute to process what you meant.
“Ohh! You mean he was to enchanted by my ass kicking that he couldn’t stop staring!”
You slammed your palm against your face in defeat.
“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Now let’s get home, my shows almost on!”
You grabbed Dante’s hand and started dragging him back to your place, watching the once strong and resilient demon hunter get turned into mush by your touch.
“Y-yeah… whatever you want, babe…”
This was lowkirkenuenly a crack fic because I’ve been back in my DMC phase and I REALLY RESLLY REALLY wanted to write about Dante, I just didn’t know what…. So I figured (since this is my first DMC fic) I’d start out light hearted and silly!
so when he’s welcomed into yours, he’s subdued but polite, crammed between your cousins, aunts, and uncles in the living room. it’s the first you’ve seen him look truly uncomfortable.
your family clocks it immediately and they’re there, making it their mission to include him.
your uncle takes him by shoulder like they’re conspiring together as he goes around firing his stupid inside jokes, bringing him up to speed on each one, even “cooking one up special” just for him.
your grandma asks him to help her in the kitchen with the dish that’s been in the family for generations, a favorite for gatherings, insisting he wear one of her handmade aprons—a right of passage that you all had to endure when you were younger.
your cousins get a beer or two in him and shockingly manage to tap him in for flag football. and you can’t look away from him rolling in the grass, laughing, a rare smile on his face.
your mom, your aunts, your grandma give him the biggest squeezes as you leave, like they can sense that he’s not used to it—your aunts coyly cracking jokes about how they can barely fit their arms around him while your mom shoos them off.
on the drive home, you can’t help but notice his faraway expression, the quirk of his lips.
“so. what’d you think?”
and his look is nothing short of bittersweet, a long-buried grief there, so raw that you take his hand and trace your thumb over his knuckles, understanding.
he never thought he would have any of this. an orphan, married—hostage—to the will of the government, his work. yet here he is, here you are.
your mom sends him little gifts “just because” she saw them out shopping and immediately thought of him. your dad messages him funny videos that remind him of “that one time” they hung out. your nieces and nephews constantly ask if uncle leon is coming to their soccer game, their birthday party, their school play.
all filling a wound he didn’t speak about. one that used to yawn wider as each phase of his life came and went, but was now slowly knitting closed.
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you’re on an end-of-year road trip with your boyfriend and a handful of close friends. high school's over and you’ve crammed yourselves into a rented minivan for a four-hour drive to the staycation you’ve been dying for all year.
you're both sat towards the back of the van. you in the window seat legs swinging happily.
you look up at megumi, hood up, earbud in one ear, the other open just enough to hear you when you talk to him. he's restless from the long drive and one of your friends' shitty playlist on the car speakers and everyone talking over each other, but he answers you every time you ask him a question or show him a funny tiktok on your phone or point out something pretty out the window. he shares the energy drink he got himself with you when you ask to try it and smiles faintly when your face scrunches up in disgust at the tartness.
"that tastes like battery acid!"
"i told you."
halfway, the group of you make a pitstop for petrol and a stretch. it's then when you realise (megumi realises) in horror that you left your phone charger in megumi's car this morning.
"there's a convenience store." he points out, and you look up. it's just across the street, "let's go."
one of your friends, mika perks up. “oh, i'll come!” she adds quickly. “i want snacks.”
he holds your hand as the three of you cross the road.
megumi’s never liked her.
he’s never said it out loud, never complained, never told you to stop being friends with her. but he notices things. always has. she acts like everything he says is the most hilarious thing she's ever heard even when he's being serious, she smacks his arm whenever she laughs, she immediately straightens her posture when he walks into a room, checks her reflection in her phone screen and fluffs up her hair.
so he acts a little extra colder with her than he does with everyone else who isn't you. in hopes she'll get the hint and just lay it off.
that's where the whining comes: "megumiiiii, you're always sooo mean to me!!!" and "gosh y/nnnn can you get your boyfriend in check??"
you're oblivious to it. how could you not be? mika's been with you longer than he has.
so the three of you walk into though automatic doors sliding open. you all look over the electronic aisle. rows of chargers hang on metal pegs, all overpriced, all labelled “fast charge” and other lukewarm promises along those lines.
you get bored quickly.
after thirty seconds of staring at cords, you sigh. “this is boring. i’m gonna go get snacks.”
megumi hums in acknowledgement, "get anything you want." he says. you light up with a grin because you know he'd buy you the entire snack aisle if you wanted it.
and then he's alone. with mika. the last place he ever wants to be.
it's quiet. awkward. he clenches his jaw, picking up one of the charger boxes and reading the label.
she breaks the silence, "you're way too good to her, megumi."
he looks up, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "didn't you want snacks too? you can go with her."
mika blinks— caught, then laughs nervously, "no, i... wanted to buy a portable while i'm here, too." she says, before clearly pretending to scan over the selection of powerbanks.
he bites his tongue, picking up another charger box and examining it.
and then she starts talking again, "you always take care of her." she smiles, phoney.
"it's a charger and some snacks." he responds bluntly.
"well, yeah... but it's the little things, isn't it?" she muses, stepping closer, her shoulder brushing his arm. she bats her eyes, "you're so sweet. i wish i had a boyfriend like you."
his arm jerks back, "don't touch me." his voice drops an octave, and the glare in his eyes is chilling.
she laughs, half-shocked things didn't go her way and half-embarrassed, "wow. okay. i didn't even—"
"she trusts you." he cuts her off, "i think she's an idiot for it. but you're her friend, so don't disrespect her."
"i would never." mika scoffs, "i—"
"good. then you won't mind apologising. she'll find out about this the second her and i are alone tonight."
she opens her mouth to respond—then closes it when you come back around the corner, holding a basket of chips and candy.
“got it?” you ask cheerfully.
megumi nods, taking the basket from you dropping in the charger which he'd selected in the middle of their spat. “yeah. want drinks?"
you gasp and nod, something about strawberry milk as he wraps his other arm around you and leads you towards the large fridge. mika trails behind like a dog with her tail between her legs.
ɞ i. yuuji
you and yuuji at a college frat party
you’re at a party, loud music, drinks in hand, laughter spilling everywhere. you gasp excitedly when you see a friend who you haven't spoken to in a while outside the glass door in the backyard of whoever's house this was. you hand yuji your half-full cup, grinning, "baby, i'm gonna go say hi."
he looks back at you and smiles crookedly, nodding, "okay..!"
he’s leaning against a counter, half engaged in conversation, a little buzzed, a little high off something his friend slipped him earlier (he doesn’t even remember the name of whatever it was), when she shows up.
yuri. a mutual friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend. you’ve met in passing a few times. awkward 'hi-bye's. you know each others' names, and she definitely should've put two and two together by now and figured out that you and yuuji are a thing.
but apparently, she wants to test that theory.
“hey yuuji,” she purrs, sidling close.
panic lights up his eyes. his words tumble out before his brain catches up. "oh... hi, yuri." he says, "hah... our names are kinda... kinda similar... i never noticed."
"mhm, sounds like fate." she smirks, "you look cute tonight."
his friends behind him suddenly decide whatever drunken bullshit they're talking about is nowhere near as interesting as what's going on here, so they stop their conversation and watch with dropped jaws at her audacity.
“oh—uh, don’t you know y/n?? you guys have met before... u-uh… she’s like, my girlfriend.”
“she's like your girlfriend?” she teases, tilting her head, hand brushing his arm.
“n-no! that’s not what I meant!! she’s my girlfriend… for real… no cap.” he stammers, face burning, heart hammering, already regretting everything he drank. he sounds like an idiot.
she giggles, tracing a finger over his chest. “you’re adorable. i don’t see her anywhere. she just left you here?”
he freezes. does he push her away? is that rude? he… stumbles back dumbly.
"she’s… over there…" he looks over her head, but can't see you behind the door. "she's talking to her friend. you uh, shouldn’t touch me like that… she fights people… women… girls... ladies… who… do that. type shit.”
“oh?” yuri raises a brow.
he's lying out of his ass now. because you're the sweetest thing anyone's ever met, but anything to get this woman away from him, “y-yeah… she’s… really scary. and strong. a-and… she sent a girl to the hospital once for touching me. she’s super serious about me.”
his friends nearby are losing it, laughing and chiming in like it’s a comedy show:
“oh, yeah, I saw it firsthand. she ripped that girl’s hair out.”
“and her acrylics!”
“then she called the ambulance herself and pretended she just found her like that.”
“yeah, and the girl didn’t even press charges ’cause y/n scared her so bad!”
they're not helping his case. yuuji glares at them. shut up shut up shut up.
yuri raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “huh, so where’s this guard dog of yours?”
and just like that you appear behind him, taking back your cup from his hands, soft smile on your face, oblivious to the image he's just spread about you, “oh, hi yuri! I love your nails, they're so cute,” you chirp. glancing back at him, you add, “is there a dog around?" having heard the last bit of their conversation, "i wanna see! is it cute?”
yuuji’s lie crumbles spectacularly. he just stares at you, mouth open, heart lodged somewhere near his throat, while you beam like sunshine, and yuri… blinks, "oh." she says, before walking off.
"let's... get an uber." yuuji sighs, his head falling to your shoulder. that was enough thinking for one night.
ɞ n. kento
office worker!nanami brings you to meet his colleagues
he takes you to a work dinner his boss is hosting at a too-fancy italian restaurant. the kind with dim lighting, linen napkins, lace white tablecloths and wine bottles that cost more than your weekly groceries.
you’d arrived early, just the two of you and his boss making polite conversation.
until the boss excuses himself to the restroom.
that’s when hana appears.
“ken!” she chirps, sliding into the empty seat on the other side of him.
he barely looks at her, nodding politely. “hana.”
her gaze flicks to you, sitting beside him in your pretty dress, glass of white wine cradled carefully in your hands. her smile sharpens. “oh, hi! you must be the girlfriend.”
the girlfriend?
you clear your throat, forcing a smile. “oh, yeah. i’m y/n. it’s really nice to meet you, i’ve heard lots!”
you have. mostly about how much she irritates him with her constant nagging.
“aww, really?” she laughs. “well, i’m not sure i can say the same. ken’s super serious about his work, isn’t he?”
you hesitate. “uh...”
“i’ve spoken about her before,” ken cuts in calmly, eyebrow lifting, "many times."
hana blinks. “really? i don’t recall!” she turns back to you, like she's sizing you up, smiling thinly. “huh. he really doesn’t have a type, does he?”
you nearly choke on your wine. “p-pardon?” you ask, hoping you heard her wrong. because him not having a type between you and her would imply that—
“everyone says i’m like his work wife,” she giggles.
this time you actually choke.
ken’s hand goes to your back, patting firmly as you cough and sputter, while you're sat there praying the wine doesn't escape through your nose. he reaches for the water pitcher made of crystal glass in the middle of the table and pours you a glass, putting it in front of you. “here.”
once you've recovered and you’re breathing again, he looks at hana. “nobody says that.”
she smiles, unfazed. “you’ve never heard it, ken, 'cuz you're always so uptight in the office! everyone's scared of you,” she grins, looking at you, "except for me. i'm always the one who has to remind him to take his breaks and eat. he'd never do it without me."
you raise an eyebrow over the rim of your glass of your water, truly not sure if she's talking about your boyfriend or a child. you doubt it's true regardless, mostly because he's a grown ass man, but also because the bento you pack into his work bag in the mornings comes home empty every day.
"that's... not..." he murmurs, fixing his glasses, looking at his watch, trying to disengage. when are the rest of his colleagues going to get here already?
"don't try to deny it, ken!" then her attention snaps back to you, eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your skin prickle. “but we really aren’t alike, are we?” she tilts her head. “you seem so much younger… and is that a plushie on your bag? how cute!”
she laughs. it’s not kind. it's mocking. like she thinks she has some sort of superiority over you because she's a few years older and she's more mature (which is highly debatable at this point).
embarrassed, you instinctively cover the plushie keychain on your purse with your hand, heat creeping up your neck.
ken’s jaw tightens.
“perhaps,” he says evenly, looking to her, “the two of you simply aren't alike because i'm not interested in you.”
the table goes quiet.
hana’s smile stiffens. “oh?”
“you were wrong earlier. i do have a type. it's her."
you glance at him, surprised.
he doesn’t look at you. his eyes stay on hana. unblinking.
“you aren't my... 'work wife'. don't call yourself such foolish titles.” he continues, voice calm and precise, “it’s inappropriate. and unprofessional.”
hana opens her mouth.
he doesn’t let her speak.
“you won't speak to her like that again.”
flat. final.
their boss returns moments later, oblivious, and hana laughs and greets him awkwardly, suddenly far too interested in her menu. and the rest of his colleagues begin to arrive at the table.
while you're busy deciding between lasagna or rosé pasta, his hand goes to yours, pulling it off the plushie that you'd been concealing on your purse. he leans into your ear, quiet enough that only you can hear, "don't hide it. it's cute."
ɞ s. gojo
amusement park date with satoru
the amusement park is loud—the scent of fried food floods the air, lights flickering on everywhere as the sun sets.
you’re standing at a game booth with satoru, jaw set in determination.
you need to win him a plushie. he won you one earlier—some stupidly cute little seal—and now it’s a matter of pride. you stare at the last milk bottle in the booth, then the ping-pong ball in your hand. take aim and...
you miss.
again.
the bell doesn’t ring. the plushie stays smugly out of reach. taunting you.
you stare at the empty counter. then at your empty ticket pile. then back at satoru.
“…i used all my tickets,” you mumble, pouting.
satoru blinks. then laughs, soft and fond. “already? wow, baby, you really gave it your all, huh?”
you groan. “i wanted to win you one!"
he’s already pulling his wallet out.
“here,” he says, handing you cash, “go wild.”
your eyes light up, “really?!”
he hums, kissing the corner of your lips, “mhm. go get more tickets.”
you gasp, grab the money, and bounce on your toes before running toward the ticket booth. “thank you baby! don’t follow me, okay? i wanna surprise you!”
he raises his hands in surrender. “yes, ma’am.”
you disappear into the crowd.
satoru turns back to the stall you just emptied your tickets at, leaning casually against the counter.
that’s when the girl running the game smiles at him.
"nah, she didn't want me to play 'cuz she wanted to win me one. it's cute."
she laughs, twirling the strap of her apron. “is she… your sister?”
he stares at her.
then grins.
because the both of them know damn well that she wishes you were his sister.
“oh,” he says lightly, “no. that’s my girlfriend.”
“…oh.”
“like,” he continues, sweet as sugar, “the love of my life.”
her smile tightens. “she left you all alone.”
he shrugs. “she trusts me.”
pause.
then, casually—“your standards must be low.”
the girl falters. “i— what?”
satoru leans closer, resting his elbows on the counter. his tone is playful, eyes sharp. “flirting with a guy after watching him kiss his girlfriend is… pretty embarrassing. don't ya' think?”
her face heats up. “i wasn’t flirting with you.”
“mm,” he hums. “riiight.”
she crosses her arms. “you don’t have to be rude.”
he smiles wider. “i don’t have to be anything with you. weirdo.”
silence.
then he adds, almost thoughtfully, “also, she’s gonna come back with popcorn. you’ll be watching us share it.”
right on cue, you return—holding a band of tickets you'd just bought and a bag of cheddar flavoured popcorn, smiling like the sun.
“hi!” you chirp.
satoru's expression softens instantly. he pulls you in, arm wrapping around your shoulders.
“miss me?” he asks.
"ew." you curl your lip in mock-disgust before grinning again, enthusiastically, “i got us popcorn!”
he beams. then glances at another stall across the way.
“hey,” he says, feeding you a kernel, before popping one into his own mouth, “let’s play a different game, babe.” he emphasises that last word, loud enough for her to hear.
you follow his gaze, gasping, “yeah! that one has cuter plushies!”
“exactly.”
he squeezes you closer, steering you away without another glance back.
behind you, the girl at the stall suddenly finds her counter very, very interesting.
ɞ r. sukuna
fratboy!sukuna helping you run a bakesale
you’re running a bake sale for an assignment in your college business management class. everyone had to pitch an idea, run a stall in the college courtyard, track costs, the whole thing.
yours is baked goods. cute ones. frosted, themed after your favourite cartoon characters. you'd stayed up all night baking.
you asked sukuna to help.
he scoffed. “i’m not handing out no damn cupcakes.”
so he doesn't.
but he did help you put up the stall at five in the morning.
he sits on a fold-up chair behind the table instead, hood up, legs spread, arms crossed, watching you work like a guard dog with tattoos and a temper. you don’t mind. you know he’ll help when you need it. and it’s nice, having him there while you’re busy.
the courtyard is chaos at first. hungry college students swarm the stalls, money flying, your cupcakes and cookies and brownies disappearing. you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
eventually, the rush dies down.
you glance over your shoulder. “baby. can you watch the stall? i'm gonna go get water.”
he grunts, but stands anyway, dragging the chair back. “’kay.”
you skip off, empty water bottle in hand.
not even a minute later, a girl steps up to the table.
“hii,” she says, dragging the word out. “is this where i get cupcakes?”
sukuna looks down at the cupcakes. then at her.
“no.”
she laughs. loud. fake. “oh my god, you’re sooo funny.” she leans closer. “i’ll take the pink one. can i get a box?”
he says nothing. grabs a styrofoam box.
“did you bake all these?” she asks. “they’re really pretty."
“no,” he replies flatly. “my girlfriend did. i’m just watching the stall for her.”
her smile falters. just a little.
“aw,” she says, lips curling into a pout. “shame.”
he pauses. looks at her. “what.”
she grins. “it’s a shame. you’d look cute in an apron.”
he blinks.
slowly.
“are you flirting with me,” he grunts, “right after i told you i had a girlfriend.”
she rolls her eyes, still smiling. “c’mon. you’re a frat guy. i bet you have, like, twelve.”
his eye twitches.
he looks down at the cupcake.
then—
squish.
he crushes it in his hand. frosting oozes between his fingers. cake collapses into a sad, mangled mess.
he drops the ruined thing into the box with a miserable thwop. closes the lid. slides it across the table to her with a shit-eating grin.
“didn’t wash my hands,” he adds casually.
her face drains of colour, "what the hell!?"
“that’ll be four bucks.”
she rolls her eyes, walking away to buy something from another stall, grumbling under her breath.
right on cue, you come back, bottle refilled, humming.
“thanks for watching—” you stop. blink. he's stood there, eating the deformity, frosting all over his hand. “why does that cupcake look like it got jumped?”
sukuna looks down at you, "quality control. or somethin' like that."
you snort. “you don't even know what that means."
he smirks lazily, "these cupcakes're good, babe.”
"i saved you some in the fridge. you didn't have to destroy one just so you could eat it." you laugh, shaking your head, going back to fixing the display.
"want some?"
"gross. you didn't even wash your hands."
he grins, sitting down behind you. stall secure.
super cute dividers by @cursed-carmine! check them out here
he likes the quiet ones || satoru gojo x f!reader, jjk drabbles, pure fluff, 401 words (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
so we all know how clingy satoru is... but imagine him having a crush on the quiet student—who he swears is the girl of his dreams.
you're the complete opposite of him; calm, composed, and rarely speaking unless necessary. you intrigued him. he just didn't know when that curiosity turned into something more intimate.
"ah—there you are!" he grins, shamelessly wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin resting against your shoulder—clinging to you like some sort of leech, "did you just return from a mission? you should've taken me along! i wanted to see my cutie in action~"
you quietly hum, unfazed by his touchy nature, "hi gojo-san..."
he immediately pouts, "i thought i told ya' to drop the 'san' part—it's too frickin' formal! matter of fact, just call me satoru!"
you slowly nod. he smiles, hesitantly letting go, but only to walk in front of you, continuing to chat your ear off, all while walking backwards, "you should've saw me today—i'm this close to perfecting my technique! maybe now we can finally do a mission together! oh and why don't we stop for some boba tea after?! don't worry your pretty little head, my treat!"
the boy leans closer, icy blue orbs boring into your own. he smirks, now acting more coy, "are you swooning for me yet—" he halts, the words getting caught in his throat as he notices the sympathetic look in your eyes.
his breath hitches as you slowly reach out, in a rare turn of events, gently patting his head, fingers combing through his white locks of hair to offer him some comfort.
a feeling he never knew he craved... up til now that is.
you smile softly, shockingly enough to him, "you must be tired then—just don't overdo it... satoru."
his eyes briefly widened, heart rate spiking up at his name exiting your mouth. god damn it. he was the one who suggested it—so why does he always get so tongue tied when it comes to you? how lame...
he's blushing, ivory skin tinted with pink as he slowly leans into your touch, embarrassingly avoiding your gaze; only yearning for more, more and more of your affection, "yeah... i know."
he peeks at you from behind his glasses, taking your kind gesture as a green light to continue, "so about that date..."
you slowly blink, tilting your head with confusion—what’s this about a date?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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