My Dear Folks Please Get Yourself A Person Who Treats You Like This 😩😩😩

how I miss him...

never knew he was so hot

Matthew Lillard as Tim LaFlour Senseless (1998) dir. by Penelope Spheeris

👆every time i read a fic with an Indian oc

Sukuna bringin in a Hindu bride 💳💥💳💥 DO YOU SEE THE VISION???

wait wait wait I SEEE hold awn i got you

Ryomen Sukuna and his Hindu!Bride

a/n: beyond my idea of loving this dynamic, i think this would fit so perfectly. plus that's his damn aesthetic iyk?!

It's the moment you, his pretty pretty Hindu!Bride walks down the petal aisle, Ryomen Sukuna sees the goddess of his very own eudaimonia in your ethereal beauty of jewel covered figure. Holding a garland as if reins to his power.

Hindu!Bride who addresses him as “Swami” which means 'master of self' (master, in general) —he's enthralled. Way to fuel your husband I guess.

Husband!Sukuna learns the word “Ardhangini” is how a husband calls his wife, connoting 'the better half' of him.

“Indeed you are” Sukuna coos internally, looking at his beautiful wife who touches his feet gently as a sign of respect and humility, to seek his blessings.

His grinch little heart would flutter at the sight of his woman blushing about the smallest of his acts, or whenever he complies to your request, big tender fingers putting vermillion on her parted hairline—the very sign of her wifehood.

-

Husband!Sukuna never liked a cooked meal; he used to eat the raw flesh each day, until enters his new wife in the godforsaken scullery. It's a first that a queen enters the kitchen to serve, first time he tasted something entirely different to his taste... saporous, still ended up liking it. There are a lot of firsts he experiences with you by his side.

“Not... bad” he grumbles, his lips betraying and twitching into a slight grin. Delicious... he thinks, because Sukuna can get used to this flavour rich meal already. Just how perfect can his little Miss perfect get?

-

Husband!Sukuna who allows you to put pretty earings on him, he'd spend a little more time looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he loves your compliments too much.

But nothing parallels his Hindu!Bride clad in golden jewelleries head to toe. Your long hair and the forehead, honey toned face, the arms and wrists, your plump waist and even your lotus like feet... that all makes him a poet whose favourite genre is your jewelled guise.

Maybe that's why he calls you a treasure. His treasure. There's a sort of pride filling his chest when he walks with you with the way you dress; you need high maintenance and lot of care that no man but he can provide.

-

And their goes a saying that a woman acts like a mom to the one in love with—that's so true with you and your Husband!Sukuna cause you literally baby him whenever the chance. Feeding him the first bite with your henna decorated pretty palm, he loves that so much. Likes the smell it adds to whatever you make him eat.

But can you blame yourself? He is a baby. A sulky big baby at that. Sulking when he finds his other side of the bed empty, sulking when you leave his chambers without permission, sulking cause you were too busy to give him kisses or just purely to get your attention.

He makes sure you see him sulk.

-

It's just you who can walk in on him when he's throwing and thrashing things around in rage—unaffected. Everyone in this palace knows that's a privilege only you get, because you're his only one.

No one dares hold his face and look him in the eyes like his Hindu!Bride. No one dares order him to “calm the fuck down” like his queen. Literally none in the three worlds would cradle the big soft-haired head of the King of Curses in their lap to tell him he's a grumpy little child.

That's how it has always been between you two, completing and fitting each other's pieces like Yin & Yang. You couldn't be happier anywhere out of this trance of love you're in for him and he couldn't even imagine to successfully manage a day without his treasure. There couldn't have been a better pair, never could have he met a woman to match his devotion for her.

TAGS: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @whodoesthatanymore @heresan @nanamikentoseyebags @4sat0ruu

been thinking abt @xxnghtclls 's fic Permission & this ♡

cook

Shower

ahhhh so precious

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, kissing, praise, satoru is so so so soft for you he might as well be a cloud, man is head over head for you as he should be! Lots of kisses, several kisses this man can’t stop kissing you to save his life

“Finally! Hold me and never let me go please sweetheart I need to be held.” Falling onto his knees, wrapping his arms around you burying his face into your soft stomach.

Gliding your fingers through Satoru’s soft hair. He nuzzled his head, tightening his grasp. “You won’t have to take another step around the apartment without me.” Patting his head he freezes, pulling away with pink cheeks.

“Do that again!” Patting his head, leaning down kissing his forehead. “Can I be little spoon?” Slipping his blindfold off, peering up at you pleading.

Smiling at him, “All night long, how about we start that rom-com we’ve been talking about.” Satoru kisses your stomach, standing up sweeping you off his feet cradling you to his chest.

It’s easy to forget everything else in Satoru’s warm loving safe embrace. The outside world becomes meaningless, all that matters are Satoru’s sparkling blue eyes, his soft snow white hair and feeling of his soft undercut beneath your finger tips.

Satoru’s bright, goofy grin is makes your world brighter. “I love seeing you smile, it’s so beautiful and goofy.” Kissing his cheek, his cheeks turn from pink to red.

“I love makin’ ya blush just as much handsome.” He climbs into the bed, lay you down with care. Kissing your forehead, cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Grabbing his hand, kissing his palms. “I love how you’ve become my home. I was so lonely before you.” Gently kissing you, like he doesn’t want to break you. Putting all his sweet, tender passionate love into it.

You are so cherished and treasured, adored by him. He spent every second he could showing you.

Laying on top of you, his weight pushing you into the mattress. Sliding your fingers through his soft undercut into his long fluffy hair. Patting his head again, he pulls away with a large grin.

Kissing your cheek, “You’re my sugar.”

Kissing his nose, “You’re my sugarbear. I love you.”

Kissing your lips, “I love you too honey, let’s watch stupid idiots similar to ourselves fall for each other.” He sits up, watching you arrange your pillows. Grabbing the remote and pulling up the rom-com ‘Love is Infinite’.

Tugging his sweater off, setting it in the side table. Watching you get cozy, pulling the blanket aside and doing last minute adjustments to the pillow. Glancing over at him, “Something wrong?”

“Can’t I admire my lovely, sweet, charming, stunning fiancé?”

Oreo creampie m.list

yes baby, pls become real 😩

LOVE, GIVE ME YOUR HAND

cont. gojo x reader, fluff. pda pda pda. mentions of love and sweetheart. established relationship!au, they’re on a train. he asked for her hand (literally or in marriage?). intentional lowercase.

a/n. i was screaming the entire time i wrote this. ahhhhhh

amidst the bustling crowd on the crowded train to kyoto, you and gojo found yourselves standing side by side, the hum of conversations and the rhythmic sway of the train creating a soothing atmosphere.

his fingers lightly brushed against your waist, pulling you even closer to him amidst the press of the crowd. gojo, listening to music with one of his earbuds, turned to you, his sapphire blue eyes glowing with a beautiful intensity. he flashed a mischievous grin, his hand slipping down to find yours.

“love," he whispered, his voice a low, inviting murmur, "can you give me your hand?"

confused, you extended your right hand to him, the back of your hand facing upwards. as he held your hand, his thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, his touch sending tingles up your arm.

a frown was evident on your face as you tried to depict his next moves, but you gave no extra thought to his question, thinking it was just one of his other shenanigans.

but gojo's other hand gently cupped your chin, tilting it upwards.

your eyes widen in surprise as his face inched closer, and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips met yours in a tender, unexpected kiss. his lips were warm and tender, pressing against yours with a delicate urgency.

the world around you seems to fade away, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the sweetness of the stolen kiss. when he finally pulls away, you're left breathless and bewildered.

“um? didn't you ask for my hand?" you stammered, your face flushed with a pleasant surprise.

“oh, i will, sweetheart,” he whispered by your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin, his eyes glistening with love as he looked into your very own.

“soon, my love.”

gojo become real pls

this anime is too much 😫

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐏 𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ Pairing: Kashima Ryuuichi, Kamitani Hayato, Usaida Yoshihito X Reader

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ contents: how they use your lap as pillow

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ warnings: a slight suggestive theme on usaida part.

☁︎·̩͙✧ Kashima Ryuuichi now this innocent boy didn't mean to use your head as a pillow. Today the daycare kids were more full of energy than usual it tired Ryuuichi more, and of course Usaida too but he mostly takes care of baby Midori more than the toddlers. It tires them more than usual of course you the other member of the babysitting club are tired, when nap times came Ryuuichi was so tired that he mistook your lap as a pillow he was half unconscious when he lay his head on your lap "This is comfortable than usual..." He mumbled before falling asleep. You tried to pull away and move his head to a pillow but whenever you moved he would nuzzle his head to your stomach, eventually you decided to stop and just wait till he woke up.

☁︎·̩͙✧ Kamitani Hayato this boy keeps glancing at your thighs and wondering how would it feel like if he lay his head there. He just imagined stuff, when you sit down next to him he took that opportunity to lay his head on your lap with redness slowly creeping up his face. "Just let me stay like this for a moment." He fell asleep.

☁︎·̩͙✧Usaida Yoshihito is a very sleepy dude, well he has reason he teaches his neighbor who wants to continue his studies and that explains why he's always sleeping in the daycare. Usaida is very sleepy today with sleeping baby Midori on top of him who's already off to a dreaming world. His pillow was being used by the kids to play fort and you being the closest person to him, he eyes your thighs before deciding to plop his head there with a contained smile "Oh it's very comfy and warm!" He said before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and off to the dreaming world. You could be mistaken as a married couple with Midori as your baby.

Reblogs are appreciated, part 2 are coming soon!

another sad jjk fics.

honestly, anything with suguru is just depressing knowing that he's gone.

skyfall — geto suguru

⥅ tags. fem!reader, non sorcerer au, university au, domestic fluff, heavy angst, unreliable narrator, multi-chapter

⥅author's n. one of my favorite pieces of angst i've ever written. apologies in advance, but i hope u enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡

"will i see you again?"

"of course," you smiled through the tears, "even if the skies fall, or a huge wave takes over the city, you'll never get rid of me."

his hold tightened, your cheek pressing against his chest as you both tried to calm yourselves down.

"you're my sunrise, and i'm your sunset," he whispered in your ear, "never forget that."

—

part one. sunrise (her)

part two. sunset (him)

the demon king i want

Pairing: Muzan x f!reader

Content: Your lover, the King of Demons gives you one last day in the sun before bringing you into his world of shadows for eternity. NSFW. penetrative sex, biting, blood, Muzan feeds from you. Yearning, longing, hopelessly besotted Muzan. Violence against a snail. Approx 1.8k words.

Ipomoea Alba

Muzan had already forgotten her name. She was a member of the fading nobility, elderly, desperately lonely, and all too susceptible to his smile. It had been far too easy to influence her, to convince her to denounce her descendants and leave her estate and its grounds to him.

The putrid taste of her blood and flesh lingered on the demon king's tongue, even as her name faded from his memory. Her face was little more than a blurred, grotesque caricature amongst a never ending haze of screaming visages.

And yet, he could recall the name of every flower in her garden. Frilly pink camellias, and vibrant blue morning glories which he had defiantly pried apart to witness their hue. Yellow roses, red lilies, carnations, primulas, apricots with their delicate pale petals. The garden was a paradise. 

And it was all for you. Yours for a single day. 

For what better place was there for his beloved to bid farewell to the sun? 

He watched you through the upstairs window, tucked away in the shadows, eyes narrowed against the agonizing glare. Seething and yearning in equal measure; furious at the world's audacity in denying him the light, for denying him you even if only for a few hours. 

He hadn't quite decided yet if he would keep you human a while longer. The temptation was most certainly there. You were soft and delicate; your mortal fragility delighted and disgusted him in equal measure. Change sickened him, and every day he saw it in you; blemishes caused by the sun, by the chemistry of your body, your mood, your dietary habits, your life. And every day your beauty somehow won out over repulsion. 

Muzan adored you, treasured you, loved you. You belonged to him, and he, against all sense and reason, belonged to you. 

And so it was agreed upon between you that he would bring you to the shadows, to reside with him in the Infinity Fortress. One way or another, you would dwell in darkness, never to leave his side.

Your only request had been one last day in the sun, a plea he saw no reason in denying. 

But as he watched you in the garden, separated from you by the confines of the house, his fists curled into white-peaked fists. The pointed tips of his fingernails drew blood from his palms as you turned your face to the blinding light, eyes closed, smile soft and content, as if receiving the kiss of a doting lover. The flowers he’d admired and sought for you brushed against your delighted form, petals caressing your tender skin with a gentleness he could never hope to replicate. 

And when you’d finished exploring your own personal paradise, you lay back on a gray stone bench and basked in the warmth. Muzan cursed the light then; it was everywhere on you; shimmering in your hair, darkening your skin, flushing your cheeks, altering the very chemistry of your body.

His rage shattered the looking glass propped in the corner, splintered the wood on the priceless antique vanity, and tore the curtains to tatters. He remained transfixed, unmoving, as the room disintegrated around him, the air palpitating with his jealousy. 

Oh how he despised it. That he could not join you in the sun. That you luxuriated in what he could not. Memories from a life centuries ago stung like papercuts pried apart and salted. Pathetically confined. Weak. Afraid to die. Repulsive. He had no sympathy for the boy he’d once been. No, only detestation. 

The moment the sun set Muzan broke free from his homely prison, filling his lungs with the cooling night air. Air as sweet as honey. Many of the blooms had closed for the night, shrinking from him as he passed them by and spitefully plucked them from their stems before tossing them to the dirt. If they saw fit to deny him their brilliance then they would perish. The king of demons would not be denied. 

And then he reached you, still slumbering on your bed of stone. Beautiful, foolish creature that you were, you’d slept through your final sunset. A tiny yellow-shelled snail made its slow path toward you, leaving a glittering trail of silver in its wake. Curling his lip, Muzan sat by your side, flicking the little pest away so hard it disintegrated mid-air. 

An ache bloomed inside his chest as he gazed down at you in your peaceful faux death. So lovely, so hauntingly fleeting. Instead of sickening him, your slow decay fascinated him, beautiful as the picked-clean skull of a deer. Sickness ran rampant, unbeknownst to you; some of it your body fought, some which would, in time, win and consume you. Unless…

Unless he made you a demon too. Goodness, the notion was tempting; to preserve you in a form more perfect than mortality could ever grant you. But then, he wondered, would you be you? Was it not your flawed self he adored? The creases, blemishes, your ridiculous little heart. A heart which would someday fail. 

Muzan cursed the world, because either way he would lose you. 

No… no it wasn’t the world he cursed, but the ridiculous notion of love. He should have been wholly immune to it, but you had bewitched him beyond sense or reason. You moved him in a way he had never thought possible. 

“Do you plan to sleep all night?” he asked gently, his voice rendering the chittering insects in the trees completely silent. A tender brush of his lips against your brow roused you from your slumber enough that you smiled, half-conscious, seeking the touch of his hand. Such fragile little bones, so trusting, your fingers interlaced with his as you drew a full breath and stretched luxuriously beneath him. 

“Muzan…” 

Coming from every other pair of mortal lips, his name was a curse. But not from you. You uttered it with such affection, the sound warm and lovely as it danced on your tongue. 

“You slept through the sunset, my love,” he said, tracing the peaks of your knuckles with the tip of his thumb. 

“I don’t mind.”

“No?” he said, pleasantly surprised. He’d half expected you to beg for another day.

“No,” you replied, sitting to kiss him, your lips so soft and tender, so very warm. “No sunset in the world could compare to spending my nights with you.”

A shiver ran down his spine as you threaded your fingers through his raven curls, pulling him closer to your body. And there was nothing he could do but yield to your unspoken wish. He was as helpless in your arms as any mortal man, so besotted that for a moment he quite forgot his nature. Even his intrinsic sense of self preservation dwindled to nothing as he  melted into your kiss, unaware at first that the soft, low moans filling his ears were coming from himself.

“You missed me,” you said, an unmistakable and endearing hint of affectionate teasing lacing your tone.

Muzan nodded, resting his brow against yours. “I’ve watched you all day, confined to the house when I should have been by your side.”

“I know. I could feel your eyes on me. It’s like knowing there’s a tiger stalking through the grass beside me. Lovely as you are, you make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.”

“Flatterer.” Oh how he adored you. With you he never had to alter his preferred appearance. You didn’t shy away from his fangs or his slitted pupils, you never shuddered when he talked about consuming human flesh. You were simply remarkable amongst your kind, beyond tolerable, and there was nothing for him to do but steal you away and keep you for himself. 

Your thighs wrapped so comfortingly around his hips, the heat of your core pulsing against him as he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and slid into you with a guttural moan. Fuck, the way you squeezed him, the way your cunt twitched as he suckled on your breast through the fabric of your dress. 

“We’ll walk in the sun together again,” you whispered against his ear as he pumped his hips desperately against you. 

“You and I for eternity,” he promised, wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your back arched as your head lolled back against the gray stone.

A cry somewhere between agony and ecstasy burst from you at the sharp pain of his teeth penetrating the flesh of your breast, followed by your wanton groan which mingled with his. Your blood flowed over his tongue as your fingers came to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you, tugging the curls at the back of his neck. And the knowledge that no one else in the world shared such intimacy willingly was not lost on him. 

You fed him gladly, welcoming the sting of his teeth, lost in bliss as he lapped at the shallow wound and toyed with your clit. His eyes shone crimson as he watched your rapture, captivated by your quickening breath, the pinch in your brow, the way your lips hung slack around your moans of pleasure. Your blood was ambrosia, the way you uttered his name divine. In centuries of living he had never found any evidence of gods until he found you. 

Your orgasm triggered his own, his muscles fluttering and pulsing as he came undone, groaning against your breast, his sterile spend flooding your cunt as your blood flowed between his lips in perfect synchronicity.

And when his pleasure subsided, he released you. Crimson stained the silk of your gown as he pulled back, your eyes half-closed and your smile so utterly heartwarming, for a moment he quite forgot he was a monster. 

“A fitting goodbye to mortality?” he asked. 

You simply nodded, too spent to speak. 

Too lovely to kill. Far too lovely to condemn to shadows. Muzan found himself shaking his head, “Of all the terrible things I’ve done and will do, taking you away from the sun, away from the flowers, may be the one thing which weighs on my conscience.”

His words sobered you instantly, and you sat up, tender hands holding his face as he avoided your pleading gaze. 

“Look up,” you told him. And he did.

On the trellis above you, white flowers bloomed, round and bright, radiant by the light of the moon. As delicate and lovely as any blossom whose petals unfurled by day. 

“Ipomoea Alba,” he said. “They’re called moonflowers.”

“And they only open up at night. They were closed all day, hiding from the sun, and now they’re open just for us.” The gentle caress of your hand against his cheek soothed his restless soul, the brush of your lips against his brow quelled his busy mind. “I’m ready. And I want it.”

And Muzan could never deny you.