Nanami Kento Never Intended For Your Relationship To Be The First Page Of His Newest Journal. He Didn't

can i be real with you all. ties are perhaps the most sexual article of clothing a person can wear. like that is just a leash and collar.

𓆩♡𓆪 jing yuan x gender-neutral!reader — domestic fluff, established relationship!au

[12:00 AM] you’re woken up by a kiss. literally. 

jing yuan smiles against your lips, only allowing a hair’s breadth of space to form in between you both as you let out an annoyed huff. you roll onto your back and he towers over you, arms braced on either side of your head.

“hi,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“go to sleep,” you grumble, cracking one eye open lazily.

“it’s midnight.”

“exactly.” you try to turn over, but the general nuzzles into your neck, pressing a brief, open-mouthed kiss to the sliver of skin exposed near your shoulder. 

“you know what that means.” he presses his fingers into your waist, bunching up your robe. his hair tickles your neck; you smile.

“it means you need to sleep,” you say pointedly, squinting into the darkness. you bring a hand up and card it through his hair. he sighs softly when you lightly scratch on his scalp.

“and it also means it’s a new day already.”

“‘s not a new day ‘til the sun comes up,” you murmur sleepily.

jing yuan doesn’t argue. he only grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist. the muted lights that penetrate the darkness through your open window are reflected in his eyes—but he looks at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the luofu’s sky, just for him.

“happy birthday,” he says, mouth splitting into a wide grin, and despite your drowsiness, you let him pull you into a kiss.

Sukuna is scary…no doubt. But…but he’s just so cuddly. And warm. You’re telling me with those four arms of his— he’s still not cuddleable? Nonsense.

Allow me to demonstrate— a slightly cold night, but this warm, pink haired beast with four arms is present to hold you. Two of his arms wrapped securely around your back and the other patting your head softly. His lower set of eyes are gazing down and adoring your sleeping form. Your cheek is smushed against that tit muscular pec and you’re in pure bliss and warmth because he’s just like that.

He’s like a warm weighted blanket. And oh, he comes in pink. What more could a girl want?

So I've been reading Powerless by Lauren Roberts.. and it has made me realize that I will never find a man who is in love with me with the way Kai is in love with Paedyn.

Is asking for a love like that, too much to ask? 😭😔

My new au

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

ooooh where would place the jjk men in the f1 teams?

McLaren:

Yuji -- that youthful outlook, the up and coming team bringing the fight to the bigger guys makes itadori a natural fit

Choso -- imagine a brother duo in papaya? damn that's some cool shit. wouldn't want to be in any other team anyways. plus he's well-liked as a driver because he follows team orders and he's a good team player, especially as he's happy to defend Yuji.

Mercedes:

Suguru -- from an aesthetic pov, he fits right in. i have to admit he'd look sexy in black. they're quite principled and well-established. they get their head down, make a few snide remarks here in there but mostly focuses on race performance.

Ferrari:

Satoru -- being from an old powerful family, it just makes sense that satoru would be in the oldest f1 team ever. but also there is very loyal fanbase surrounding Ferrari with the tifosis and there's this feel of glory and honour -- plus gojo would love know he's in the most sought-out team

Red Bull:

Sukuna -- he is red bull. their competitive spirit, their pragmatic, soul-crushing hardcore out look fits him to a t. they're cocky, unconventional, and badass. they'd get booed but everyone can't help but feel respect, fear and admiration. red bull drivers don't ask for permission. they don't see a gap? they make one

Aston Martin:

Nanami -- could also fit in Mercedes but I do imagine him in the position of Alonso, nurturing a rookie or a younger driver, leading the team with his experience, providing solid results. a reliable figure who'd like to avoid the politics of a team like red bull and mercedes

Haas:

Toji -- lol. he was totally a red bull driver with sukuna but then they kept fighting and crashing and he was eventually fired. he moved around teams a lot but he had a badboy aesthetic and attitude. got into too many fights. damn good driver though so he was always kept around. would have landed in haas for the money and also because he liked the fact that he was bringing them up in the championships and owning the bigger, more established teams. a fuck you driver-team combination fr

BUTTERFLY EFFECT ୨ৎ track one : damage control.

racing grounds — series m.list. ᡣ𐭩 ferrari-racer!gojo x redbull-racer!sukuna x redbull-manager!reader. warnings — sukuna being remotely nasty, gojo being a narcissistic freak - they're practically the same, except one has anger issues, and the other takes it up the ass. cursing, allusions to sex. threats. reader gets called "babe." let me know if i missed anything! (呪術廻戦) : note — chapter one, and i'm locked in. 1.4k+ words.

"alright," you say, smoothing out the silken fabric of your dress. you watch the limousine, a sleek black beast, disappear around the corner, then turn your attention back to sukuna.

you're standing outside the grand, brightly lit party hall, the faint classical music already vibrating through the pavement beneath your feet, alongside him.

adjusting his tie, which seemed to have an inherent desire to strangle him, you look up to meet his eyes. "remember anything i said?"

his answer is curt, a single syllable of defiance; "no."

well, at least he's consistently honest, even if that honesty was infuriating.

"alright," you sigh, the weariness settling deep in your bones. "ferrari's going to be in there, okay? and a few other people who… well, let’s just say they have a history with you."

a grunt, a non-committal sound that did little to reassure you.

"that means no picking fights, no throwing hands. if they play mean, don't indulge. be the bigger person. i don't want a repeat of last time," you warn, your voice laced with a stern edge.

oh, god, just the mere mention of last time was enough to shave off another five years off your already stressed-out life. the chaos, the broken furniture, the… you’d rather not relive it.

"oh, c'mon," sukuna groans, his voice a low rumble of annoyance. "last time wasn't even my fault. they started it."

"no one mistakes 'dapper' for 'diaper'," you mutter, pointedly ignoring the faint pink that crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks.

"whatever." he rolls his eyes, a dramatic flourish that seemed to say he was the victim of some great injustice, and immediately went to loosen the tie you had just painstakingly tightened.

"behave," you scold, swatting his hand away with a sharp, decisive motion. "you're not a baby."

he's got that infuriating shit-eating grin on his face, the one that always made you suspect he was plotting something. "or, what? you'll punish me?"

you click your tongue, a sound of exasperation. "i'm serious, sukuna."

"so am i," he replies, his grin widening, making you doubt his sincerity.

"sukuna."

"alright, alright," he concedes, though his eyes held a mischievous glint that suggested he was far from reformed.

you glance at his hair, previously styled with gel into a sleek, sophisticated look, now unkempt and tousled.

"stop touching it," you add, glaring at the way he tugs his hand through it, effectively dismantling your efforts. "you look like you wrestled a badger, and somehow lost."

"ready?" you asked, turning away from him, the question more a weary exhale than a genuine inquiry.

"you sound like you're asking yourself, more than me," sukuna retorted, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"be quiet. let's go." you pushed open the heavy, ornate doors leading into the grand hall, a wave of noise and flashing lights hitting you. reporters swarmed, their eyes immediately snapping to sukuna’s vibrant pink hair. you held your breath, scanning for any signs of imminent chaos.

his record, if you remembered correctly, was five minutes. five minutes before he'd launched into a tirade that involved at least three expletives and a threat to "rearrange someone's face." today, you were aiming for a new record: peace.

"mr. sukuna, how are you feeling about the upcoming race?" a woman, her face framed by a meticulously styled bob, asked, her microphone thrust forward.

"gonna fucking beat their asses," sukuna growled, his voice a low rumble.

you forced a strained laugh, leaning into the nearest camera. "yes, uh, he's feeling rather confident. they've all been training hard, so…"

a man with a receding hairline, his tie askew, pushed past the woman. "with gojo constantly stirring the pot, keeping up to date on the beef—"

"not beef," you interjected, your smile strained but polite. "it's all in good companionship."

he ignored you, his eyes fixed on sukuna. you wondered if your intervention had been a waste of breath. you’d seen enough of their practice runs to know the intense rivalry was more than just “companionship.”

"keeping up to date on the beef," he repeated, "do you have any words for him?"

"i'm not a pussy. he's here, ain't he? i'll tell him to his face."

your eyes widened. the reporter, sensing blood in the water, pressed on. "well, tell the viewers, too. don't want to leave them in the dark, right?"

sukuna paused, his lips parting. you quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him aside. "thank you, but that's all he'll be answering for now."

you dragged him to a relatively quiet alcove, your eyes narrowed. "hey, by any chance, do you remember the conversation we had, what? ten minutes ago? about behaving?"

"sure, and i said i would, if you made me. so, why don't you save us the time, and we get—" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"sukuna," you said, your voice eerily calm, "this is a thirty-story building with a roof. do not test me, because i will throw you off the top."

"ooh, don't tease. you know i like them feisty."

"sukuna."

he huffed, a petulant whine escaping him. "fine."

"i need a drink," you muttered, rubbing your temples. "if i leave you alone for five seconds, will you get into a bar fight?"

he shrugged. "depends."

you were exasperated. "on what?"

again, he shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"stay. or. else." you pointed a finger at him, the threat clear.

"keep talkin' dirty."

you made a face. "ew." crossing your fingers, you left him behind, heading towards the nearest bar setup. anything, really, to calm your frayed nerves.

gojo and sukuna in the same room together was a recipe for disaster. all you had to do was make it through one night, and then you'd be good.

well, until the next public relations event. but, you'd jump off that bridge when you got there.

maybe, you needed a hobby. no, that was wishful thinking. as if you had time for one. your entire world revolved around the red bull team, and keeping them in check.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to will the migraine away. you didn't need kids, not really.

not when you had sukuna, that toddler in a finely tailored suit.

you practically flagged down a waiter, eagerly grabbing a sparkling water off their tray. your phone buzzed in your purse, and you assumed it was your boss, checking in on the chaos.

drink in one hand, you reached for your device, but—

thud.

your phone went flying, and your drink hit the polished floor, splashing the person in front of you.

your face heated up, and you were quick to respond. so much for sukuna being the only problem. "oh, my god, i'm so sorry! i really wasn't watching where—"

getting up from picking up your phone, they said, "aw, don't fret, babe."

your embarrassment morphed into annoyance. it was a voice you didn't have to look up to recognize.

you took a half-step back, grabbing tissues from a passing waitress. "gojo," you greeted, dryly. "my apologies."

he pouted, flashing his oh-so-charming signature grin. charming to everyone but you. "hey, now, where'd all the groveling go?"

you pressed the napkin to the damp spot on his custom tuxedo. the cold liquid seeped through his expensive fabric, a dark stain spreading across the pristine white.

you rolled your eyes at him, too agitated to be sincere. "sorry about the mess."

"you don't seem too sorry. ah, well, maybe you'd rather show than tell?" he asked, teasing.

you inhaled sharply. "not here!"

"not here? how about a nice hotel?"

one thing about both gojo and sukuna? they loved testing your patience.

"quit that! somebody might hear us."

"you never worry about that when—"

you cleared your throat, loudly, as a couple passed by. "stop acting like we're a thing. it was once. and, i don't even remember it."

you'd yet to decide whether that was a good thing or not, actually. that was the black-out part of black-out drunk. maybe not having those memories ingrained into your brain did you some good.

"well, if you ever want to relive it…" he trailed off, smiling.

"why would i ever want to?"

he laughed, boisterous. "alright, babe. your call. literally." gojo handed you your phone, and you squinted at the screen, which had his number added as a new contact.

"how—?"

"you dropped it unlocked. lucky me," he sing-songed, and you snatched it back, turning on your heel.

you only got a couple of steps forward, lowering your voice as you called back, "if i had any sanity, you know i'd delete it."

sukuna caught up with you after a few minutes, and you sighed, looking over at him. "you good?" he asked.

"never better," you exhaled, clicking your tongue.

your phone buzzed with a new notification, and you made sure you weren't obstructing anyone's path as you checked it.

well, i'm pretty good at driving you crazy.

series taglist (11/50): @jeonwiixard, @paradisestarfishh, @seizecherry, @shinycrybaby, @n1vi, @gojosoups, @poopooindamouf, @susususukanana, @sukubusss, @beereadzzz, @mia-can-yap-too. ask/comment to be added!

Chuuu