I Crave For Some Fics Where Bkg Just...crushes On His Classmate,,nothing More..nothing Less,,,just Some

The true trick is saved till the end.

spiderman!deku always finds a way of sneaking out without anybody noticing. having good grades and a lot of friends helped him look like a normal teenager. well, he wasn't.

"aaah, aizawa-sensei, I have a stomachache, can i go to the bathroom?" the green haired boy asked, his back arching while both of his hands grabbed his stomach.

"yes." the grown man said not sparing him a glance.

rushing through the gym, he strutted until his legs brought him to the exit door, pushing hard he got out of the place looking everywhere until he couldn't see a soul. okay, time to change.

hiding rapidly on the common bathroom outside the gym, he quickly took his sport-like clothes off revealing the elastic and shiny green and red attire, showing a medium black spider on his chest. he put on the mask, which had two little bunny-like ears and hid his clothes under the sink which he always put his clothes in.

first part, done, and oh! he lasted three minutes! that's a new record.

closing his eyes, he felt the growing anxiety bubbling on his stomach, and then a tug on his eyes making him look directly at his left. there it was. a suspicious looking man running from the police. apparently there wasn't any heroes near so he could make an intervention.

izuku stretched his arm out, a white web flew across the campus until it got stuck on a light pole. and there he goes, the green hero which identity couldn't be revealed.

swinging through the streets, gaining speed until he had the running man in his arms. grabbing the man with such care so he wouldn't get hit by their quirk on accident, he rapidly embraced the man with the web, making the man curse out loud, but not finding a way of getting out, he stood still until the police arrived minutes later.

"who we have here, the spider hero, with whom do I owe the pleasure?" one of the policeman said.

but izuku wasn't careless, he knew as much as he was a hero behind a mask, he was also a vigilante and the police was also looking for him.

"you know, just a teenager trying to save the world." and as soon as those words left his mouth, he was in the skies again, swinging, leaving the police and the trapped man behind.

checking his watch he saw he only had ten minutes until next class.

going inside the common bathroom again, he stepped inside and directed his feet towards the cabinet again. only to find it empty.

"wait wha-"

"you looking for this, spiderman?"

turning in his heel slowly, he saw you holding his normal clothes on your hands.

"if you want me to give this to you-" you closed the door and leaned on it. "first answer me, who are you?"

pov: you’re drop-dead gorgeous (and they don’t know how to deal with it)

character/s: bakugo katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, crack (?), them hyping u up like there’s no tomorrow, uhh reader wears makeup 🤕

notes: this is for all u pretty mfs aka all of u whether u believe it or not YOU ARE PRETTY AMD HOT AND AMAZING 😡‼️ also disclaimer: the boys love u not just for your face. they think you’re so cool for being beautiful inside n out and this is just them appreciating the out 🧎‍♀️

bakugo katsuki thinks you’re so pretty that his only response to it is to be angry. he’d watch intently the way you’d smooth your clothes down and cutely fiddle with your hair in the mirror as if there’s even anything to fix. he’ll cup your pretty face in his hands and squeeze your cheeks together (cuteness aggression probably), “tell me why you’re so fucking pretty all the time? what are you so pretty for, huh?!”

bakugo katsuki would always watch you do your makeup and hair and then slip into the prettiest clothes only you can pull off and he’s just mesmerized by the whole thing.

“katsuki, please stop drooling and get dressed. we’re gonna be late.”

his only response is: “fuck off.”

because he can never deny nor hide the fact that he constantly admires you every chance he gets. he storms his way to you and snatches a shimmery eyeshadow from your makeup bag. “tch, you don’t even need any of this shit.”

“you don’t like it, katsuki?” you stare up at him doe-eyed, easily making his heart skip a beat.

“h-hah?! i didn’t say that!” he shoves it to your hand, “now do this glittery shit next!”

and you just ditch whatever plans you’d made and spend the rest of the night trying on different makeup looks. he’ll insist that you sit on his lap while you doll yourself up just because, and you gladly do so but then you both end up wearing a full face of glam makeup 🧍‍♀️ he doesn’t know how he just let it happen but he’s like, “whatever makes you fucking happy, y/n.”

he then proceeds to tell you that, “every one of those ugly extras should grovel at your feet, worship the ground you walk on, and then beg for your forgiveness.”

“forgive them for what?”

he stares blankly at you. “for breathing the same air as you.”

bakugo katsuki’s not active on social media at all but on his instagram, his first and only post is a photo dump of just youー the selfies you took on his phone, your date outfits, candid photos (by courtesy of bakugo katsuki) of you smiling at a stray cat, the power nap you took on his shoulder, and his favorite one by far: a photo of you wearing his black tank top that completely swallows you up, holding up two little peace signs on your cheeks.

and of course, he captions it, “u and ur ugly ass wish u were y/n.”

Keep reading

jaws theme starts playing

I miss matsukawa

braid my hair f’ me (miles morales x blk!reader)

— the thoughts have been thunken. I thunked the thoughts

— made em real cute for y’all

— ⚠️: cursing, reader n miles being silly goof balls

the night was peaceful, with sounds of the city blaring outside of your open windows. you found yourself turning to your boyfriend to tell him all the gossip happening within your school, and he was actively listening and engaging with you in conversation. you showed him pictures on instagram of the people you were talking about so he could keep up with names and visuals, and it wasn’t until near the end of your gossiping when you realized miles stopped responding.

it looked like he’d zoned out completely, just looking in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"baby?" you asked, snapping your fingers in his face.

like a wake up call, his head bobbed up to look at you with wide eyes. "hmm?"

"are you ok, think lost you for a sec," you snorted. miles contorted his face as she shook his head stuttering.

"it’s nothin' I jus- I mean- you think- ugh," miles groaned as his head flew back.

"it’s ok take your time," you teased with a small giggle. if miles was struggling to tell you something this hard, it was probably extremely embarrassing or he did something. you’d hoped it was the latter.

he sighed as he mumbled with his head hung low, "that guy— Tristan— you think his braids would look good on me?"

you looked at with unbelievably wide eyes and a look on your face that screamed "you’re joking." and it was in that moment you realized; oh my god, miles morales wants to get his hair done.

"y’know, I thought this day would never come," you mumbled looking at the ceiling.

you heard him suck his teeth and you looked back at him to see his back turned looking away from you bashfully. miles had never been bashful before.

it was then when you began to giggle uncontrollably. you leaned into your bed frame from where you were on the floor, and you just couldn’t contain your fit of laughter. once he thought the laughter had settled down, he asked, "yeah y-you done now?"

this only set you into another short-lived fit of laughter. you were laughing so hard and so loud, that miles swore your parents could hear you from downstairs.

soon enough, you were panting and coming down from your high only to face an unamused miles with his back facing you. you crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind.

"you know… I can braid your hair," you chirped. he looked back to see the side your face smooshed into his back with a grin.

after a beat of silence, you heard a soft "hm" from miles.

"that’s not a no," you said as you poked his shoulder. he thought about it for a second, whether or not it was a good idea to let you do this.

for the few months you guys have been dating he wouldn’t let you touch his head, claiming to be tender headed and that the only person allowed to braid his hair was his mother. he said that she had “the touch.”

"she’s just the only person who’s soft on my head!"

"miles have you ever even gone to anyone besides your mom?" you asked in disbelief.

"…no"

since then, you’ve let it go after much teasing and humiliation towards your boyfriend.

"imma just ask my mom if she’ll braid it—"

"milesss c’monnnn! I swear i’ll get you looking right and I won’t grip too hard. please?" you pleaded. you hooked your finger under his chin to guide his eyes to your pleading one’s. for a second he looked unamused, but then you swore you saw his lip twitch upward.

"ok, fine. I will allow you to braid my hair just this once." baffled were you at this sentence as you pulled away from him.

"ALLOW ME?! baby say it with your chest, you know damn well you WANT me to braid your head," you sassed.

he chucked, "actin’ like you ain’t just beg me to let you braid my hair-"

"ahhhhh that never happened! I am erasing your memory, that never happened. you WANT me to braid your hair," you quickly said as you rubbed his scalp imitating mind control.

miles laughed as he grabbed your hands as he led you to the bathroom with him.

after making miles sit in a chair for 15 minutes under your sink, and running shampoos and conditioners throughout his scalp, it was time to blow dry.

you sat him down in your bedroom near your dresser with all the supplies laid on the table.

miles shifted uncomfortably in his chair and he kept looking back at you plugging in the dryer with worry in his eyes.

"miles, the blow dryer will not blow you away. you have nothing to worry about," your voice dragged. you watched in amusement as he dragged his hand down his face and a deep sign came from his mouth.

not turning the dryer on just yet, you got to work on parting his hair into fourths, clipping back sections as you went on. finally, it was time for my miles to face his biggest fear; the blow dryer.

he heard the whirlwind sound as soon as you flipped the switch. he winced once he felt the warm air coming to his scalp, "WAIT!"

"lord have mercy," you said over the blow dryer. you turned it off completely. "what is it miles?"

"w-what about heat protectant?" he stuttered as he puffed out his chest. you sucked your teeth as you walked to your bathroom to find heat protectant. you could hear miles’ soft sigh as you left the room.

walking back with the spray, you sprayed miles head as you told him, "you know the faster we blow dry, the faster all of this will be over right?"

"alright, alright-" he threw his hands up in defense and tilted his head. "-simplemente no tires demasiado fuerte por favor."

you squinted your eyes in thought as you tried to translate in your head, and after a second you understood.

"you have nothing to worry about, I got most of the tangles out of your hair when washing. this should go smoothly."

and smoothly it did… except for the fact that miles couldn’t stop bobbing his head all over the place. you kept having to grab his head to keep it upright with the blow dryer. "miles keep still, jesus!"

"what d’you think i’m tryna do?"

once blow drying was over, you turned miles head up to face you looking down at him from his sitting position. "that wasn’t so bad now was it?"

"hmm nooo," he groaned. you bent down to meet his lips for a small kiss, thanking him for his (very difficult) cooperation.

taking his hair out of all the clips, you got to parting six equal sections of hair to braid. as you parted you made sure to add zig-zag patterns with your comb, just to give his braids a little flavor. as you clipped off the sectioned parts of his hair to start braiding you checked to see if miles was okay to start

"you ready baby?" he said nothing.

"miles?" you asked again. when you heard no response, you walked over to check on him. what you saw was truly a sight to behold—

there was miles, shut eyed and breathing slowed with his mouth slightly opened. "I made him fall asleep," you thought to yourself. quickly, you stumbled over to your bed and found your phone. snapping a picture of him in this state, you giggled as you went to instagram to edit in a pink heart next to him and save it at your new lock screen.

swiftly placing your phone on the dresser along with all your hair supplies, we went back to doing his hair. you opened up some hair grease and gel as you went to work.

"miles," you shook him awake. "miles, baby wake up."

stirring out of the deep slumber you put him in, he stretched his long limbs as he looked around for a second confused.

"finished?" he asked groggily. you noticed his voice was scratchy and deep, still laced with sleep. you turned him around in his chair for him to come face to face with your dresser mirror.

his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed to make a small "o" shape as he looked at himself in the mirror.

running his hands across the top of his head he exclaimed, “damn mami.”

"eek-! you like them?" you smiled as you bent over his chair to wrap your arms around his neck.

"of course I do, these are clean," he answered. he turned his head to face your cheek as he kissed you.

"ouu lemme take a picture," you said. you grabbed your phone from off the dresser. you unlocked the phone, but before you could open the camera app, miles caught a glimpse of your lock screen.

"um-! when the hell did you take that??"

— i am an avid user of the pink heart emoji

— 🩷

— took me a while to decide whether or not I wanted this to be an e42 or e1610 miles fic 😞

— tbh it could easily be both

— @laylasbunbunny @ulovejayy @all444miles @nagi3seastorm

Meowing sounds

naur the eyeliner <3

shinsou is 100% fluent in french and calls you ma cherie, always in a low, soft tone, never any other way

sleepover

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part here

--

sukuna hums into the softness of your cheek from the back of the chair, right before pressing a warm kiss into your skin. you squirm away when you feel the slightest bit of his teeth, your suspicions confirmed when he only laughs in response. 

“did you just bite me, sukuna?” 

“you smell good. good enough to eat.” he muses. 

“and now you’re just trying to make me mad.” you grumble, before shoving him off. 

sukuna laughs as he reaches for your bag slung across the chair, before slightly gesturing for you to look at the clock. 

“has it ever occurred to you..” he starts. 

“oh shit. i’m so sorry, i didn’t even realize it was so late.” you stammer, slamming your computer shut and reaching for your bag to pack your things. 

sukuna reaches for your hand, curling your knuckles straight into his hand as he shakes your arm, stopping your rambling and gesturing for you to look at him. 

“are you ever going to let me finish what i’m saying?” 

you lean your head to the side, giving him your best smile. 

“nope!” you respond. 

“figures.” 

sukuna found that you were slowly melting over the past month. that in all of your awkward uneasiness - which was still present almost any time he touched you, let his lips linger for a little too long - had slightly diminished. that you were sarcastic at times, that you loved to push his buttons, and make him laugh. 

“has it ever occurred to you that you can sleep here?” sukuna murmurs, reaching his hand right past your shoulder and handing you the last of your things to shuffle into your bag. 

he’s almost positive. that you won’t take up his offer on the first try. because naturally, you were stubborn and almost never did. you had warmed up to his key fast enough - and his efforts were always rewarded with time and patience. 

“is this because of the train? you know, you don’t really have to ride it with me all the way back and drop me home.” you murmur. 

you found yourself at sukuna’s apartment more often than not. his space was nice and big - two bedrooms, a soft couch, and his fridge that he always keeps stocked with all of the things that you had asked him for. it was already hard enough to stay away from him, always finding your feet dragging you to wherever he was in your free time, and now he was making it damn near impossible to stay away. 

and sometimes your work would keep you late. or sukuna would keep you tangled up in his arms for too long after dinner. so you’d be catching the last train home, all the way into the dark hours of the night. 

“yes, i do.” he states. 

“i’m a big girl. i know how to use my metrocard.” you respond. 

“my insistence on accompanying you has nothing to do with your capabilities. more with the fact that i’d rather not have you get harassed by a lewd lunatic on your way home. at least when i’m not there to beat it out of them anyways.” 

“no one does that type of stuff anymore.” you murmur. 

“have you ever been harassed on a train?” he asks. 

“once. when i was like twenty.” 

“one time too many. get your things.” 

you frown as sukuna slings your backpack over his shoulder, before holding his hand out to you. you very begrudgingly place your hand into his, mustering your best glare possible as he shuts the door behind you. 

“look at that face. so cute.” he coos, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“do you ever think you’re too overprotective?” 

“i’d argue that it’s my job to protect you. and you know i’ve always been an overachiever.” he retorts back. 

--

Dear Y/N,  Which train are you catching? I’ll meet you there.  Best,  Sukuna 

you shoot him a quick response. 

dear the prime minister of my headache,  tell satoru i say hi!!!! i think you should download a game on your phone for him to play. and try NOT to piss off your LITERAL boss today, please :)  and sorry! i can’t come tonight. dinner w/ my parents (commence ugly screaming)  aggressive meowing,  y/n 

you look up from your phone to find yuuji staring up at you, keys hanging from his hand as he gestures for you to follow him out the door. 

“what are you doing?” he asks. 

“sorry, sorry! i was responding to an email. i’m coming.” 

on the first of every month, you and yuuji trek out into the suburbs to have dinner with your parents. it was the only way that you could stomach them together. the mix of yuuji’s homophobic dad and your downright homicidal sister was a battle the two of you never did alone. 

dear president of my migraine,  i told satoru you want him to die. he is now inviting you to karaoke and has made it very explicit that i am not invited. (i will attack you if you go)  after reading your email, i decided to go spit in naoya’s face. and then paid a witch to hex his entire lineage.  and yes, i’m aware. what train are you catching? i’ll accompany you on the bus there.  equally aggressive barking,  sukuna 

“hey. did you tell sukuna about dinner today?” you ask. 

“yeah, he might try and stop by. why do you ask?” yuuji adds. 

“no reason. that’s nice of him. it’ll make your mom happy.” you murmur. 

sukuna,  i’m driving w/ yuuji and megs. you can accompany me on the bus + train back since yuuji’s going to go see the fushiguro’s while he’s here.  best,  y/n 

--

thirty minutes into dinner is when sukuna arrives. and in a total of five minutes, he’s overwhelmingly reminded of why he ran out of this place so fast and never returned in the first place. he can tell that you and yuuji are already cutting your losses - from the way yuuji’s fists are curled in anger and the fact that you’ve already slumped down to the bottom of your seat. he’d figured that you were going to be down in the dumps - your lack of ridiculous email signature downright haunting - and was already prepared in best efforts to fix it. 

he slides into the open spot at your side, his teenage agitation coming to a head at the empty seat to your mother’s left. sukuna thought it was a shame, a disgrace that any of you had left the seat open in the first place. that even in the metaphorical sense, there would ever be a place for your father in any of their lives again. not after he was so intent on leaving when you needed him. 

sukuna would sit in it himself, if it weren’t you. if you were present at the dinner, not swimming in your own pool of thoughts, sukuna supposes that you’d even signal to him not to. eyes wide in warning, telling him to not even dare. he had every intent to badger you, to convince you to never return here again. 

“how are you, sukuna? it’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” your mother asks, warm smile at him. 

sukuna tries to muster down that acidic feeling he had in an effort to be polite. and it was almost working, because he could see every semblance of your smile on her face. in the light of her hair. 

“i’m good, thank you.” he responds. 

“it’s been a while since you’ve come to see us. any particular reason?” your mom asks. 

“a girl, maybe? are you getting ready to propose under our noses?” mrs. itadori adds, the two of them sharing a giggling smile. 

you spit straight into your cup, to which yuuji shoots you an alarmed look at your side. you wave him off as you turn to sukuna, cheeks pink. you hadn’t even told yuuji that you were seeing sukuna yet, let alone your combined overbearing mothers. though that was for an entirely different reason. 

“not right now, no.” he offers, his hand finding its way into yours under the table to which you squeeze once in affirmation. 

“what about you, yuuji? are you seeing any girls?” mr. itadori asks, eyes pointed at yuuji. 

you fight the urge to audibly groan at the question, as you feel both sukuna and yuuji clench at your sides. sukuna’s your bigger concern, only because yuuji won’t do anything, but you still reach for him regardless. you place your palm flat on his knee and push down, trying to stop his bouncing leg from shaking the whole table. 

“no, dad.” yuuji grates. 

“what happened to that grump? fushiguro?” your sister sammy prods, flaring up special irritation that only she could invoke. you fought every urge you had to kick her straight under the table. 

“sammy.” you grate. 

“thank god that’s over. i heard his father lived on the bad side of town.” sammy states, head gleaning to the side for his approval. 

before sammy can get her sweet satisfaction from the adults, yuuji pulls his chair back, the wood screeching against the tile, as he takes his glass and heads to the kitchen. you sigh, giving your best glare to her and seeing your moms eyes fill with warm tears, as you follow yuuji as fast as you can. 

“yuuji.” you whisper. 

“if she wasn’t a woman, i’d slap her.” yuuji states. 

“and i’d let you. just relax.” you state, placing your hands on his shoulder and squeezing hard at the taut muscle, at the tension in his frame. 

“you slap her. you could you know.”

“yuuji. they don’t know megumi like-” 

“he doesn’t even talk to his father. his father was fucking horrible to him, he-he’s nothing like megumi.” 

“i know, yuuji. they-they just don’t know okay? we know-” 

“and what the fuck is sukuna doing here? he took his leave the first chance he got and now he’s here playing high and mighty?” 

you quickly shush him, his voice getting increasingly louder with every second.  

“yuuji. you guys are way past that. that was years ago.” you murmur, brushing the ends of his jacket, as he angrily sighs into your space. 

“still. even he’s pissing me off. we’re leaving within the hour. megumi’s already at his mom’s.” 

yuuji storms back into the dining room as you bring your fingertips to your forehead, massaging the pulsating feeling cooking in your head. sukuna’s eyes follow you as you settle back into your seat, as he reaches for your hand under the table again. 

“sukuna? sammy here is still single.” mrs. itadori comments, her eyebrows raised at sukuna in a smile. 

sukuna can tell that his mother must have hit some nerve, because you’re digging your hand into his so hard that he’s almost positive that you’re breaking skin on his palm. 

“oh, i could never.” sammy responds, biting the bullet for him. 

you swear to god that she bats her eyelashes at him when she speaks, the look on her face so smug that it makes you want to lift your fork and stab it straight in between her eyes. 

“right. not my type.” he states, dismissing her in one fell swoop. 

“oh sukuna, don’t be that way. we’ve been saying it since the two of you were kids! you’re both smart. dress well. you’d make beautiful grandchildren for us.” mrs. itadori states. 

“really, i-” sukuna starts. 

“you were gone for a long time, sukuna! things could be different now and…you’re both grown up. a conversation wouldn’t do any harm!” your mom adds. 

“plus. we have a lot of the same friends. some of them are actually in town.” sammy offers, which is your final straw. 

“i’m going to get dessert.” you state, pulling your chair back as you march into the kitchen. 

you can feel your hands shaking as you pull the cake out of the fridge, nearly dropping it, before sukuna’s immediately at your side, his hands stabilizing yours as he all but steals it from your hands. you curse that he rushed in here so fast, that now he was going to gloat in your space while you were already down. 

“be careful.” he warns. 

you cross your hands against your chest, head burning as sukuna takes over for you, opening the little plastic box and sliding the cake onto the little platter at the side. you can tell that he’s staring at you, his eyes focused on your frame in your peripheral vision. 

“what the fuck are you looking at?” you ask. 

this one’s new, sukuna thinks. 

“y/n.” 

you groan, embarrassed at your words, as the warm, frustrated tears start filling your eyes. at yuuji’s stupid dad, at what yuuji said about sukuna, about your mom, and your godawful sister. 

you cover your face with your hands, turning your back to him as you press your forehead against the cold metal of the fridge, trying your best to swallow the wave of shame that’s coursing through your body. 

it stings so much that when sukuna puts his hand on your shoulder that you all but shrug him off in response. sukuna himself has very little patience, almost none when it comes to you being so upset, so he pulls you in straight to his chest, hands secured right against your waist. 

“pretty girl.” he murmurs, almost like an invitation. you shoot it down. 

“shut up. you-i think it’s really stupid when you call me that. do you think you look better just because you have me pathetically standing next to you?” you respond. 

“y/n.”  he responds, his tone equally stern.

you look up to find him staring at you, jaw clenched as he towers over you as you feel even worse. you had no reason to say that to him. and as always, they had the tendency to bring this side out of you. even in front of him. 

“sukuna. wait, i’m sor-” 

sukuna takes his chance.

“make it up to me by sleeping at mine tonight.” he states, pushing off of you. 

“wait, what?” 

sukuna’s eyes waiver to the side, as your mom rushes in, hand warm on your shoulder as she squeezes. 

“you okay, princess?” she asks. 

you quickly wipe your eyes, slight smudges of black on your hands, as you muster your best smile. 

“yeah. yeah, sorry.” 

“something i said?” she offers. 

“no, no. you know-” 

“i know. sammy talk and all that. i’ll try and stop. sukuna, be a dear and take this out for me?” she asks, as sukuna obeys and shuffles out of the room. 

you hike your hands into your armpits, as your mom stacks the plates in her hands. 

“did you ever…would you ever think about suggesting me for something like that?” 

“what ever do you mean?” 

“you know…like as a prospect.”

“oh don’t be silly honey. we both know that yuuji is gay.” 

you frown as she walks out of the room, filled with annoyance at the premise. that your mom wouldn’t even consider that you and sukuna could even be together.  

--

you and sukuna head home in complete silence. you wave yuuji goodbye at the doorstep, shooting megumi a warning text when the group of you split that he was going to be worked up. 

“you can get your things from your dorm. we’re sleeping at mine.” sukuna states. 

so he was serious about that. you curl your hands into little fists, placing them under the warmth of your thighs as you look over at him. you quickly dart your head around the train car, only three people, sitting a sizeable distance away, before you talk. 

“sukuna, i don’t think it’s a good idea. i think we should just-” 

“are you sorry for what you said?” he asks. 

“yes. really, i- i was just mad at them. they made me mad the second i walked through the door and i had no right to take it out on you.” 

“good. make it up to me then.” he responds, his eyes focused on your lips. 

sukuna wonders if he could kiss the attitude out of you. 

“what?” 

“if you feel bad, then make it up to me. you’re staying with me tonight.” 

sukuna half debates taking it back. that you were the one who was wound up from the dinner and that you had the right to sleep where you were comfortable. but the part of him that wants to comfort you, that has silently waited for you to crawl out of your hole, is fully intent on dragging you out of it tonight. 

and when sukuna’s pushed you into his apartment, his hands quickly find their way to your neck, almost toppling your balance as his lips meet yours. his lips are warm, the remnants of the sweet frosting still present, as he all but knocks you into the wall, unrelenting. 

“suk-” 

“shut up. you are in no position to be making demands.” 

sukuna’s almost positive. that if he riles you up enough, he’ll get you to break. that you’ll spill your secrets, instead of him having to intently watch you and use his head to piece them together. he tangles his fingers into your hair, before using it to hold you back against the wall. 

“still jealous of your big sister?” he asks. 

“i am not-” 

“does it make you mad? thinking about me with her?” 

“sukuna.” 

“what was it they said about her? that she was smart? that she dressed well?” 

the tone in his voice was aggravating. like it was some kind of game. that sammy was just some lay person who made you jealous, like a girl flirting with him at the bar or an idiot like naoya. like she wasn’t your sister. 

“don’t say the last one.” you respond, glaring at him. 

sukuna’s got you right where he wants you. 

“is that what’s bothering my pretty girl? grandchildren?” he asks. 

his tone is enough to piss you off, for the second time. 

“what the fuck is your problem? go fuck my sister then if you want her that bad. i’m sorry i can’t be good enough for you, but-but i’m trying to do the best with what i have. i know i can’t be her, but if you didn’t want me, you should have just said so. if you were intent on bringing me to your apartment to make fun of me, you shouldn’t have.” 

sukuna watches as you break from his grasp, shoving past him as you brace your hands on the counter and lean forward. sukuna reasons that it’s enough. a part of him almost feels bad for pushing so hard, that if he was more patient he could have waited for you to tell. but he was always impatient when it came to you.

a part of him wishes that he could read your mind at times, only so he could shut up every idiotic thought you seemed to make up when you were riled up. 

he tangles his hand with yours, as he drags you - and your needlessly heavy bag of things - towards his bathroom. you’re following him with no pushback, which he takes as a good sign despite your words, as he sets the bag down at your feet. 

“wash up for bed.” he demands. 

you sigh. you reach for your skincare, hyperaware of sukuna still standing against the wall, hands crossed against his chest as he watches you follow through your routine. the first time he breaks, making it a point to walk over to you, is well after you’ve dried your face of all your makeup. 

he softly puts his hands on your cheeks, thumbs brushing underneath your eyes, as he murmurs. 

“freckles.” 

you don’t say anything as he silently leans forward, lips soft on your cheeks as he leaves a kiss on your skin. sukuna always felt gentle when it came to how he touched you, something you weren’t half expecting, but the softness was enough to make you nearly keel over into his arms. you both take a deep breath in at the same time, sukuna’s voice filling the quiet space. 

“that god awful shit you put on your face. it’s covering up your freckles. don’t ever wear it around me again.” 

sukuna shuffles out of the room as you watch him retreat through the mirror, taking a second to ground yourself out of his presence. his warm, vanilla smell is still in the air, but you lean against the wall and take a few breaths and gather your bearings. you shoot a quick text to megumi, finally remembering to gauge how yuuji is doing, before letting mai know of your whereabouts. 

and in full flesh realize what you did. 

you yelled at sukuna. when he was trying to comfort you. twice. and told him it was stupid that he called you his pretty girl. 

you shuffle out after changing into your pajamas to find sukuna standing near the window, pulling the shades as you walk up behind him and bury your face into his back. he’s not wearing a shirt - confirming your suspicions that sukuna was the type to at least very least sleep semi-nude - as his hands meet yours on his stomach. 

“feel bad?” he asks. 

he turns around to find you standing there, pouting at him with tears in your eyes, as he fights the urge to laugh. you’re wearing some type of cartoonish pajamas, arms bare in a thin tank top resembling the one you had worn in attempts to impress him at the bar. he relishes in the fact that he won’t have to wrestle you out of this one, as he places his hands at your side. 

“like shit. i’m so sorry, sukuna.” 

“how bad, huh? gonna do something for me in return?” he asks. 

you're shocked at the fact that sukuna's not even mad. that he's trying to flirt even.

sukuna knows that he’s just goading you now. because he can see your eyes go wide and is almost positive that your mind has gone to somewhere sexual in nature. 

“y-yeah. sure.” you respond. 

“okay. sleep with me.” he states. 

you swallow hard, shaking your head of your nervousness, as you oblige. 

“right. well…take your pants off then.” you murmur, cheeks burning. 

sukuna laughs, as he quickly steps towards you, noticing that you’re stepping backwards so fast that you fall straight onto his bed. 

“who knew you were the type to sleep nude?” he asks. 

“what? i don’t sleep nude!” 

“then why are you asking me to take my pants off, pervert?” 

“you just told me to sleep with you!” you complain. 

sukuna crawls into the bed, before shoving his arm straight under your waist to pull you right on top of him. you’re propped up on your own hands, looking down at him from your vantage point of his chest, as he reaches forward and tucks your hair behind your ear. you absentmindedly reach forward, your thumb brushing past one of his dimples. 

“you're filthy. do you always have such lewd thoughts about me?” he coos. 

“i didn’t realize you meant sleep sleep.” you mumble, embarrassed. 

“for the hundredth time, i mean what i say. you have always been my pretty girl, because i find most other girls, including your horrendous sister, annoying. and when i say i want to sleep with you, i want you to sleep next to me.” 

“really? you think she’s annoying?” you ask. 

“absolute bitch. i’ll make you an itemized list of everything i hate tomorrow morning over breakfast for you. the first thing on that list is that she isn’t you.” he states. 

you lean down and press a kiss to his lips. sukuna notes that it's the first time you've ever initiated anything with him.

“you really know how to romance a girl.” you murmur, as you roll off of his chest and tuck yourself straight into his arms. 

“we’ll talk about the dinner tomorrow. go to bed, baby.” he murmurs, littering an indecent amount of kisses around your neck and shoulder as you drift off to sleep. 

--

an: everyone say happy bday to @babiemay <3 also pls let me cook my lore pleek I know this one was bad he'll comfort her at breakfast ok 😔

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intimacy

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

sukuna wakes up three hours later to the bright light of your phone, and more distinctively, your right hand in his hair, brushing his pink locks away from his forehead. he blinks the sleep out of his eyes properly to find you sitting criss crossed within the sheets, hunched over on your phone, with your face scrunched up in frustration. 

he half considers not broaching why you’re awake at this hour just to ensure that your touch wouldn’t cease. that you’d continue tangling your fingers with his hair. 

“what’s your problem?” he asks. 

you retreat your hand from his hair, wincing as you mumble out your apology. sukuna muses that you were almost getting too predictable. 

“did i wake you up?” you ask. 

sukuna scoots closer to you on the bed, before lifting one of your legs to readjust himself. he’s settled himself right in between the softness of your thighs, before he reaches for your hand again and sets it back into his hair. 

you swallow commenting on how needy he is as you comb through the tresses of his hair, noting how he seems to soften into your legs the more pressure you apply. 

“what’s so important on your phone that you’re interrupting my sleep?” he mumbles. 

“sorry. was just texting megumi. i was supposed to call yuuji when he got home but it kind of slipped my mind.” you respond, before setting your phone down into the sheets and placing your other hand into his hair too. 

“something distracting you?” 

sukuna grins as he flips over, lifting his head to rest his chin against your stomach. he places a kiss to your clothed skin before giving you a sleepy smile. 

“clearly.” you respond. 

“he’s okay?” 

“yeah. i’ll talk to him tomorrow.” 

“nothing i could help him with i suppose. no one understands shitty older siblings like the two of you.” 

you tense underneath him, enough for him to wish he minced his words. sukuna knew that broaching any part of that, of something almost sacred between yuuji was something he couldn’t push you on. though it wasn’t hard to deduce - your horrid attempts at whispering in the kitchen weren’t lost to him. 

“hey. he loves you. it’s not like that.” 

“what was it he said? sitting all high and mighty?” 

you sigh, and enough for sukuna to properly open his eyes and sit up. 

“i’m joking.” he adds. 

sukuna can tell his words aren’t enough. it usually takes very little, a mix of sweet talking to settle you down, which makes him happier than he can admit. only because it indicates to him that his words can hold so much weight, especially to you. 

“i mean it. you guys are well past that. have been since you came back.” you murmur. 

sukuna knows that you’re right. that despite the fact that yuuji never talked to sukuna in the four years he was gone, despite his best efforts to reach out, their relationship was nearly repaired the second he made it back to tokyo. and it means more since the two of them getting along would mean something to you now. 

sukuna left when he was sixteen and made his best efforts not to regret it now. 

behind everyone’s backs, he had taken an early exit out of his required schooling and applied to a four year boarding school in europe. he had only dropped the news to everyone five days before he left, in efforts to not let the crippling sense of servitude he felt towards his family hold him back. 

“were you mad i left?” he murmurs, pushing up on his elbows, his breath tickling your neck. 

“no.” 

“did you miss me?” he asks. 

it’s a selfish question. sukuna knows that the answer should be no. that it is no. but he’ll pretend your honey sweet answer, laced with a lie, is true for the night. that you’ll tell him exactly what he wants to hear - that you thought of him constantly when you left.  

“i was sad you left without saying goodbye. but i was too busy worrying about my own sister and all that.” 

sukuna can tell the answer is honest. and it’s satiating enough to know that you had noted it, that you were hurt that he hadn’t given you more importance before he made his escape. that you wanted to be important to him. 

“is that why you haven’t told yuuji? that we’re dating? breaks some secret pact you both have?” 

you smile. 

“are we dating?” you whisper. 

sukuna lightly pushes you over, before leaning on top of you and nuzzling his face into your arms. his legs are tangled to the side, his pressure soothing on your chest. 

“are you seeing other guys i don’t know about?” he asks. 

“of course.” you joke. 

sukuna brings his hand down on your neck, his one hand sliding around the length of your neck. he squeezes slightly and you feign choking before he rolls his eyes. 

“shut up, brat.” 

“well. you never asked. you can’t just decide we’re dating.” you state.

“i won’t ask.” he mumbles. 

“ask.” you prod.

“no.” 

“ask me!” 

“i already decided we were dating a long time ago. catch up.” 

you figure that if sukuna can test you, push your buttons to get what he wants, so can you. and you imagine that it’ll be infinitely easier, that it’ll take less work from you when he’s barely awake. you bring your hands around his cheeks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“please?” you whisper. 

sukuna groans. 

“be my girlfriend.” he states. 

“that’s not asking.” 

“y/n.” 

“c’mon.” you prod. 

he glares at you. 

“be. my girlfriend.” he repeats, more sternly. 

“cute. but no.” you respond. 

sukuna glares for three seconds and you cave. 

“sorry! i’m sorry. fine. i was just messing with you so i’d feel better.” you respond, to which he releases his gaze. 

he pauses. 

“do you need to feel better?”

“hm?” 

if you’re upset, that’s certainly one thing he can fix. 

“do you need me to make you feel good?” he asks. 

it’s something that’s been on your mind, more frequently than not. and it lingers for too long, that feeling that you’re denying him something, that there’s something he’s waiting for that you haven’t yet delivered. 

yuuji talks. so does megumi. and the two years of highschool that you got with sukuna were enough. 

sukuna was always an overachiever, as he so poignantly coined it. he was smart. smart enough to graduate early even, to get into an exchange program and get out of the suburbs. he was athletic, his attitude towards teachers was viewed as charming rather than plucky, and obviously he wasn’t short of being attractive, of having girls interested in him. 

you distinctly remember his first school dance when you were a eighth grader. or more importantly, that sukuna was dressed up in a tux, having his tie fixed by his mom while you and yuuji quietly watched him attend the senior prom. as a sophomore. 

yuuji mentioned that sukuna always seemed to be sleeping around, something corroborated by the fact that he was almost always talking to a different girl almost every time you saw him. megumi thought he was trashy even. 

but here he was, being patient, being painstakingly patient, that it only felt right. that you had to reward him for it. 

“okay. sure.” 

sukuna’s fully awake now, his eyes meeting yours as you feel a shiver go down your spine. 

“are you okay with this?” 

“yeah. yeah, i am.” 

“and you’ll tell me to stop if you stop being okay with it?” he states. 

you give him a nod, slightly embarrassed that it was something he had to confirm. like he knew you were going to chicken out of it. 

“i need to hear you say it.” he whispers. 

“i will.” you mumble. 

you’re almost positive that sukuna doesn’t do this with every other girl he’s been with - something confirmed in your mind by the fact that sukuna’s so gentle, his touch is so perfect, that you feel you’re never going to be able to let go of him. and can’t imagine that other people have let him slip out of his grasp. 

it’s not too different from the other times sukuna’s touched you - something he tends to always be doing. he’s more affectionate than you expected, for someone who was so reserved, so stern in almost every memory you have of him. 

but he uses endearments, pet names almost every time he talks to you - currently whispering words that make your entire body heat up, almost more than his hands on you. 

“my pretty baby’s so wound up. let me fix that for you, hm?” 

his words were almost enough to make your entire body heat up more than his hands. key word, almost. but there was something about his touch, so soft, firm in different places that it made you nearly limp in his arms. 

his hands were in your hair, on your legs just to pull you closer to him, resting on your cheeks when he kissed you. your predictions suggested to you that sukuna would have bored out, tired from just kissing you when you had given him full permission for the first time, but he wouldn’t let up, making it a point to kiss every patch of skin he could.  

it’s only then that it occurs to you that you haven’t touched him. you lift your hands, before freezing them in the air, unable to do it. but the shifting is enough to make sukuna stop. 

“you still okay?” 

“yeah. yeah, i was just-” you respond, catching your breath as he smiles. 

“your hands were up. you can push me off if it gets to be too much.” he whispers, pulling back. 

“no. no, i was…i was going to touch you. just got shy for a second…” 

sukuna grins at you, before leaning his forehead against yours. he tries his best to ground himself in the moment, realizing he was going too fast, getting too carried away too quickly. 

he can smell the remnants of your shampoo in your hair, focusing in on it, before he settles both of his hands into the crooks of each of your elbows. 

“you can touch me.” he murmurs. 

“okay. you-you’ll stop me right? if you feel weird?” you ask. 

sukuna laughs. 

“i can’t imagine i’d ever do that, but yes. i will stop you.” 

you give him a satisfied nod, as you reach forward and scoot into his lap. his hands instinctively reach for your waist, holding you steady, as you inspect his tattoos in the dim light of the dark. 

you reach forward and trace your fingers all the way down. you had only seen them peeking out from the collar of his shirt here and there, but this was your chance to look at them properly. 

“did you get these all at the same time?” you ask. 

“no. most of them are from when i was gone. this one right here-” 

he guides your hand to the left side of your chest, placing your palm flat against his beating heart before letting go. 

“-was right when i came back.” 

“s’pretty. you’re pretty.” you mumble. 

you instinctively squeeze, before the two of you quietly laugh. 

“did you just cop a feel?” sukuna asks. 

“maybe. seemed squishy.” 

“and was it?” 

“no. it was really underwhelming.” you respond, earning another laugh from him. 

it’s almost too gratifying, the smaller things - making him laugh, seeing him smile. it was so rare to see it before and the fact that he does it for you, does it so freely, is enough to make your stomach fill with an embarrassing amount of warmth. 

“your turn?” he asks, voice so low you can barely hear it. 

you nod, that biting wave of anxiety instantly hitting you when sukuna’s hands slither under your tank top. his lips find their way back to yours, his breath heavy on your face as you try to swallow it down and let him keep going. 

sukuna makes every effort to drag this on for as long as he can, for multiple reasons. so that your standards were never lowered, so that you’d never settle for callous hands and shitty guys in bars - not that he’d ever think you’d talk to anyone but him ever again. that he’d let anyone else see you like this. 

sukuna felt like he was slowly figuring you out like you were the back of his hand. you always seemed to be withholding something, almost like it was a wall right there with him in the room, but that let him in when he knocked. and right now, he had every intent to make you feel good. to reward you for trusting him. to savor you. 

he notices the trembling when he brings his hands up to your chest, when he lets them linger for too long. it’s so slight, almost in par with your breathing, but he notices it and immediately pulls back. 

“are you still okay?” he asks. 

the hesitation in your response is enough of an answer for him. he swallows down the dry patch in his throat - nearly cursing himself for going too far, too fast with you exactly where he knew you were reserved - before he brings his hands up to your cheeks, trying to get you to meet his eyes. 

“what can i do?” he whispers. 

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to, it was-” 

“tell me how to make it better. what do you need right now?” 

it’s almost embarrassing to ask for it. to make him overextend, to attend to you when you were the one who ruined the moment. and it felt increasingly stupid for you to push your own boundaries too, that you were going to scare him off now. 

“please.” he whisper. 

you look up to find his brown eyes, washed over in concern, as he cups the left side of your face. it’s enough to push you. 

“do you have a shirt i can wear? this just feels too…”

“yes. do you need a long sleeve or-” 

“short is okay.” 

“do you need me to wear one too?” he asks. 

you sigh. 

“could you? i just feel…” 

before you can even finish your sentence, sukuna’s pushed himself off the bed and rummages quickly through his closet before he returns. he snags his own shirt over his neck before sitting back down on the bed in front of you, his voice soft. 

“arms up, pretty girl.” 

you oblige, as sukuna pulls the shirt over you, his hands shaking as he dutifully attends to you. he’s pulling the sleeves down to your elbows, the fabric drowning every inch of your body as he readjusts it. 

the two of you sit in silence, your hand curled into his as you try to muster out the best words to say. to selfishly, keep him around you. 

“i’m not very good at this intimacy type of thing. i-i’m not sure if you’ve noticed.” 

some part of your guard is down. the curious part of him wants to push, to crawl all the way in and never leave. but he makes his best efforts. to remain persistent in letting you make the calls here. 

“explain.” 

“i just mean. you always kiss me first. and-and you kiss me a lot. i really like it, but sometimes i think it’s weird if i initiate it first. like-like it’ll keep going.” 

“i’ll always kiss you back, if that’s what you mean…” 

“no. no, it’s…it’s kind of embarrassing to admit. like logically, i know it won’t happen. but you’re a guy. you…you have lots of experience and you obviously like to do things like this. a lot of people do. it-it’s normal. but sometimes i feel, in the moment, like i’m not ready to do all of that yet. to go farther…” 

sukuna understands. he pulls his hand under your chin, using the knuckles of his pointer finger to guide your line of vision back to him. 

“you call the shots. always.” 

“i know.” 

“i don’t expect anything from you. if you just want to kiss me, i am more than happy to just kiss you, y/n.” he whispers. 

you can feel the tears in your eyes at sukuna’s tone. and the way his face falls at the sight of your tears is enough to make you fully cry. 

“princess. who’s got you thinking like this?” he murmurs. 

sukuna’s not one for words. though it seems he seems to always have the ones that fit just right. his thumbs are brushing away the wetness on your cheek, before he leans down and presses a kiss to your nose. 

“you know that i’m more experienced than you. so will you give weight to my words when i say them?” 

“okay.” 

“intimacy can mean lots of things. having sex is intimacy, sure. that’s a no brainer. but…there’s so much more to it. i can promise you, you aren’t bad at being intimate with me.” 

“really?” 

it’s the fact that it's three in the morning. that’s what sukuna will pin it on tomorrow. why he feels the need, why it feels so easy to talk so freely with you. that and the fact that he feels the need to lick each and every one of your wounds, to smooth over the rough patches. 

“i felt close to you at the dinner last night. when you were holding my hand under the table. you squeezed really hard when your mom was hurting your feelings, almost like you were trying to tell you that it made you upset…that’s intimacy to me.”

“are you trying to butter me up? don’t make stuff up.” you jokingly respond, earning a wide smile from him. 

“you were relying on me. telling me something. that’s intimate.” 

he reaches forward, pulling the hair out of the collar of the shirt before tucking it behind your ears. 

“i know that’s hard for you to do. i appreciate it when you can do that, when you trust me.” 

you swallow hard, before putting your hand back where it was resting before, over the beating of his heart. 

“i trust you. just…give me time to figure out the words?” 

“it’s not a race. i’m not planning on going anywhere.” 

"promise?" you ask, holding out your pinkie to him.

you watch his eye twitch.

"i'm not going to do a fucking pinkie promise."

the two of you laugh and it's enough to make your cheeks hurt.

it’s solidified one thing in your mind. that look in his eyes, the way he tucks you into him before his stupid teasing voice lulls you to sleep. 

that you have to tell yuuji the first chance you get.

--

an: right. well.

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