#'spot the main character' sort of pictures

[cloud-ya]

probably not gonna draw anything about it but I really wanna share these screencaps of mhr cutscene with mizutsune hunter mod on

just a village and their anthropomorphic leviathan

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐎) !! ❞

❝ A LOVE TRIANGLE GONE RIGHT ?! REPORTING FROM THE SET OF THE HIT SHOW JUJUTSU KAISEN ! ❞

✧ pairing: actors!satoru gojo and suguru geto x actor!reader

✧ summary: rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your boyfriends find out who it is—

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut, no curses, modern au, jjk is a tv show, actor au, yes the actors and characters have the same names lol, reader is dating both of them, funny interview hijinxs, this is kind a lot of crack, jealous! gojo + geto, sukuna is here lmao, innuendos, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi-exhibitionism, face sitting (f! receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex (p in v), double penetration, creampie, multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / _3aem

✧ wc: 17,900

“Reporters say the love triangle between the actors Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto and their co-star has become even more shrouded in mystery than the show itself!” an influencer reports on your social media of gchoice that morning, nearly vibrating from assumedly her three espressos, “the stars of Jujutsu Kaisen, the fantasy horror drama series written by Gege Akutami have been embroiled in dating scandals over the last few weeks—“ your phone’s notifications cut the audio from the video for a moment until you switch it to silent, “after being spotted leaving Suguru Geto’s loft just two nights ago, she was then seen having a lunch rendezvous with Satoru Gojo—“ 

You lock your phone, rubbing your temples, as the device nearly had an aneurysm from your social media notifications — buzzing itself off your dining room table and into an early death. Your agent was going to have a field day with this, and the main event is going to be your murder. 

“What are they saying about us now?” Suguru sighs, as he emerges out of the shower in only a towel wrapped around his waist, steam rolling out of the bathroom, as you offer him a coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a sip, “my agent is demanding I call him— and I’d like to know what we’ve done now before he kills me,” he says, though he continues to sip his coffee nonchalantly, unbefuddled by the thought of his death. 

“Oi oi, calm down, shouldn’t you be more upset at the reporters than me?” Satoru comes from the bedroom, “Nanamin, just take care of it. Tell them we’re just friends if they ask you — do me a favor and pay off the reporter who got a picture of us kissing—“ and you nearly snort at the thought of Nanami Kento doing any sort of favor for Satoru. 

“You let him kiss you?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, as your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes. 

“Not so much ‘let’ as he just kissed me without a second thought,” you shake your head, drinking your coffee as Satoru continues to bicker with Nanami, “I told him I thought I saw paparazzi but—“ 

“Satoru is do first, ask questions never,” Suguru sighs, but still the smirk remains, as he leans closer to you, his large palm against the back of your chair, “you never let me kiss you in public,” 

And you’re resisting the urge to bite your lip, “You know better — look at what Satoru’s done now—“ 

“And was it worth it, Princess?” Your mind wanders to the kiss — Satoru’s hand against the nape of your neck, his lips sliding against yours, the faint taste of the strawberry cake he had for dessert lingering on his tongue and now yours, and the sticky heat that settled over your body from the too humid night air and his warmth leeching onto your skin, and the eyes watching his need for you made it all the more—

“Maybe,” you mumble, choosing to sip at your drink as Satoru cut off your conversation with his own. 

“Just deal with it, Nanami, that’s why I hired you after all, huh?” He earns a swear from Nanami for the claim that he ‘hired’ him in any way whatsoever, and then his lips curl. “No they aren’t here with me—“ the bespectacled man shouts from the other line, “eh? What do you mean I look and sound like a man who only lies?” And then he’s hanging up, running a hand through his hair, a pout on his lips, “I was supposed to wake up to the two of you, not Nanami’s tirade,” he groans, as he makes his way over to you, only to wrap his arms around you from behind. 

“Well, it is your fault, Satoru,” Suguru smirks over the rim of his cup, “someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—“ 

“Jealous, Suguru?” he replies, as he presses a kiss to your neck, “jealous that our princess is much more affectionate with me,” 

Suguru cuts you off, “more like she babies you,” and Satoru’s face sours into a scowl, “if she had stayed at my apartment for the week, this wouldn’t have—“ 

“And then they would have seen me coming to your place, and what good would that do?” 

“Guys—“ you try to speak, but you’re cut off again. 

Suguru tilts his head with a small grin, “Are you lonely? Why don’t you find someon—“ 

“Stop, guys,” you couldn’t take this bickering this early in the morning, though you had grown used to it, “we have bigger problems to deal with than your egos,” you sigh, rising from Satoru’s grip even as he pouts, “we have to be more careful,” 

“But how? We’ve already cut down our appearances together for behind the scenes and even stopped going out for dinner or dates,” Satoru pouts, running a hand through his hair, “next thing you’ll want to break up,” 

“That’s not gonna happen,” you flick Satoru on the forehead, “but we have to do something, otherwise our agents will have us murdered,” 

“And Nanami will join them for sport,” Suguru adds, and you snort, finally finishing your drink, before he walks over to you, fingers under your chin, “so what’s your idea, sweetheart?” 

“Just take a break for a few weeks until the public finds something else to fixate on,” you sigh, “while the episodes air, all we’re going to get is more attention,” 

“We could just take a trip,” Satoru offers, “I own a private island—“ 

“Of course you do,” Suguru says, and Satoru only chuckles. 

“Being envious doesn’t become you, Suguru,” the snow haired actor clicks his tongue at him, before he’s pulling you into his arms, “we could go for a few days, get away from all the noise,” 

“It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing, Satoru,” Suguru tilts his head, “won’t they notice if we all go on vacation at the same time?” 

“Plus we have interviews to do in the coming week,” you remind Satoru, and he’s sighing, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “but maybe we can go after?” 

“Unless you get that role,” Satoru mumbles against your skin, pressing sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, “have you heard anything yet?” 

You shake your head, a sigh stuck in your throat, “It’s a long shot. This is such a big role and it’s for the lead,” and Suguru is finding his way to you, warm fingers cupping your cheek. 

“They would be lucky to have you — do you know how many people say you were their favorite character? They were ready to fight me and Satoru for you,” he adds with a chuckle, lips ghosting over the swell of your cheek, “I think they would beat us with sheer numbers,” 

“Nah, I’d win,” Satoru says, and you snort, rolling your eyes, “but he’s right princess, how crazy would they have to be not to cast you?” 

“There’s so many other talented people up for the role—“ 

“There’s always going to be someone else,” Suguru cuts you off gently, as his fingers find yours, lacing with yours so perfectly you wondered if it’s what they were made for, “but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable or incredible,” 

“And you’re already far more talented than you give yourself credit for,” Satoru adds, “but when do you get the role, inevitably,” Suguru smirks at him, “when would shooting begin?” 

“Probably just after our press wraps for season two,” you lean into their touch, “they still haven’t casted the two leads, but apparently both are down to the final audition,” and you’re pressing nosing Satoru’s cheek, before pressing a chaste kiss to Suguru’s nose, “and that’s why we’ll have to cool it for the next few weeks, ok?” 

But you don’t — or rather they don’t. 

“Who is Satoru Gojo’s…” Satoru rips off the tape off the cardboard printout of Googled questions, “favorite actor to work with?” 

“We all know the answer to that,” Suguru replies with a sigh, his eyes sliding to you, and you roll your own. 

“Look who’s talking — these two are obsessed with each other,” and Satoru has a shit eating grin, sitting back and watching the two of you argue, “the two of you are soulmates — and I’m not talking about your characters,”

“Don’t go there,” Suguru scoffs, and you tilt your head, lips curling, as your gaze meets his. 

“Are you begging?” and you can’t help the way your tone bites back, falling far over the line of playful teasing and into blatant flirting, and you can only hope the camera plays off the dark glint in Suguru’s gaze as he smirks as teasing rather than what you know it is — lustful. 

“You’re both wrong anyway,” Satoru cuts in, “obviously my favorite actor to work with is Megumi!” 

And you and Suguru both snort, words falling from your lips in unison, “Poor Megumi,” 

“Ehhh? What do you mean by that?” And Satoru smacks you both playfully with the piece of cardboard an intern probably painfully put together before tossing it away. 

“What happened to Suguru Geto….” in Jujutsu Kaisen?” Suguru reads. 

“Dead,” you and Satoru answer in unison, and Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“You both are a walking spoiler,” and you gape at Suguru. 

“They asked, and he’s the spoiler warning — he read ahead and told me that his character—“ and Suguru covers your mouth, looking the camera dead in the eye. 

“You’re welcome—ow!” And he pulls his hand away, “did you just bite me?” 

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Satoru says, earning a whack to the face with the cardboard printout from Suguru, “when you tried to steal her snacks—“ 

And you weren’t really helping either. 

“Do you think of yourself as a heartthrob?*” You ask Satoru, hooked up to a lie detector, the polygraph examiner studying the results closely, as Suguru didn’t bother biting back his smile. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not—“ 

“It’s a yes or no question, Satoru,” you cut him off as he sighs dramatically, running a hand through his snowy locks. 

“Then I’ll have to say yes,” and he’s winking at the camera, and you’re snorting, looking at the lie detector reader. 

“It’s the truth,” he says simply and the examiner nods, and you scoff, as Satoru only pouts at you. 

“Have you ever,” Suguru lets a chuckle escape his lips, “look at fan accounts for yourself? I can answer this one, yes he does, I’ve watched him do it—“ 

Satoru scoffs, doubling down, “can you blame me? My fans do such wonderful edits—“ 

“And inflate your ego to a catastrophic size—“ and Satoru is reaching across the table to cover your mouth. 

“Be careful she bites,” Suguru warns, leaning back in his chair, as you grin against Satoru’s hand, and he shrugs, lips curling. 

“Don’t worry, I like it,” 

The examiner nods, “that’s the truth.” 

“We’ll start out tame,” you say, as you look at the list of thirst tweets in front of you and choosing one of the more…hinged ones, “Suguru Geto, I would let you kill me like the monkey I am, and I’d thank you for it,” and you show the tweet, “monkey emoji covering their face,” 

“That’s a tame one?” Suguru covers half his face with his hand, much like the emoji, “what the **** are the wild ones?” And you open your mouth to reply and he cuts you off, “I don’t want to know,” 

“Sweetheart, I’ll read one for you next,” and Satoru scans his list, and he clears his throat, holding out his hand to you, your name on his lips, “the only way I could die happy ever is if I suffocated when you sat on my face,” 

And heat climbs your face at his words, a single chuckle giving way to full laughter, “***, that’s a lot of pressure to put on me—“ 

“And on them,” Satoru adds, and you’re glaring at him only to dissolve into giggles, “I can't blame them. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go,” 

“It’s my turn,” Suguru scans the list and grimaces, “I don’t want to read this,” and then he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, “I’d let Satoru Gojo **** me, spit in my mouth, and make my daddy issues worse, and I’d thank him for it, respectfully,” 

And you’re doubled over in laughter by the time he gets to the end of his monotone reading, while Satoru only grins at the camera, leaning against the table, as he pulls his sunglasses on only to tilt them down his nose. 

“I’m available.” 

No, this press junket did not help at all. 

“Fuck,” you grumble, propping yourself on your elbow, your knuckles pressed to your lips, “how are we still trending? Aren't there other things to talk about?” 

“Stop checking it, it’s only making you crazy,” Suguru sighs, collapsing next to you on the couch, his hand thrown over the top of the couch, before it slips down behind you, warm palm resting on your hip, “there’s nothing you can do,” 

“My agent said she’s definitely going to get news on whether I got the part tomorrow — and tomorrow is when the last episode of the season is airing, and when—“ 

“The scene with Kenjaku at the end, I know,” Suguru presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, “think I could pull off stitches?” He drags a finger across his forehead teasingly. 

“If you’re asking for a lobotomy, I always wanted to try doing one,” Satoru walks in from the shower, hair still damp, as he squeezes on your other side, “Princess, you can be my nurse, hm?” 

“Did you already have one?” Suguru bites back, and Satoru doesn’t reply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “she’s still worried about tomorrow,” 

“Don’t you know there’s no such thing as bad publicity?” Satoru presses a sweet kiss to your neck. 

“Not when they’re speculating if I’m dating or cheating on one or both of you,” you shake your head, “what if the director thinks I’m a liability?” 

“If the director thinks you’re a liability after seeing your work and meeting you, then he’s clearly blind,” 

You flick his sunglasses down, “can you say that four eyes?” 

“Don’t you mean six eyes?” Satoru sticks his tongue out at him, and Suguru’s fingers find yours, laced hands against your thigh, “whatever happens, happens — you know your worth,” 

“And your worth is far too high for you — only I could afford it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you shove Satoru, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you against him, his lips grazing the soft skin behind your ear, “how much?” 

“For you? A billion dollars,” and his lips find yours in a kiss, lazy but warm, heat from his touch spreading like a flames carried by the wind. 

“That all? What a bargain,” Satoru pulls a breath away, his lips curled in a grin, only for Suguru’s fingers to cup your chin and make you turn around. 

Deep purple irises you grew lost in, his thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “and for our princess?” He hums, lips grazing yours teasingly, “a steal,” 

“Well, you both stole my heart so you might as well have the rest,” and Suguru’s lips finally find yours in a real kiss, deep and full, until your mind is filled with nothing but him — and Satoru, whose  lips ghost over your shoulder and collarbone and hands slip under your shirt, warm palms against your far too heated skin, “fuck—“ you’re sighing, melting agaisnt them, “Sugu, Toru,” you’re whining already, drawing smirks to both of their lips. 

“Let us take care of you, sweetheart,” Satoru whispers, lips finding your earlobe and sucking at the sensitive skin, and Suguru pulls away from your kiss for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

“We’ll get your mind off things, Princess,” and his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, “all night long.” 

And they do, they keep their promise — the three of you falling into bed in a jumble of limbs, and you forget until the next morning. 

And in the morning—you get the call, “okay, thank you,” you hang up, still between mussed sheets and arms wrapped around your waist, “I got it!” 

“Heh, I knew you would,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in your side, “I’m so proud of you, baby,” 

“Hm? Proud of her for what?” Suguru murmurs, half asleep, black locks strewn around his head like a halo. 

“I got the role, Sugu,” you lean down and kiss his nose, and he’s grinning wide, fingers winding into the back of your head to pull into a kiss, “you’re looking at the leading actor of a movie,” 

“You’re going to be in demand now, Princess,” Suguru says, dragging a thumb down your lips, “will you still make time for us?” 

“Of course, always — you’ll visit me on set right?”

“You sure, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll be too busy for us,” Satoru leans up and presses a kiss on your neck. 

“Maybe for you,” and he’s pouting, and you lean down to kiss his pout away, and then you get an email, “oh it’s the casting sheet for the other roles,” you scan the list, “oh,” 

“‘Oh?’” Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

“The male lead, he’s someone we know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, “and I’m already getting a headache,” 

Satoru furrows his brow, as the two of them lean over your shoulders to look — Satoru scowling and Suguru glaring at your screen, as they say his name at the same time — as if summoning him from the underworld. 

“Sukuna?” 

Ryomen Sukuna was both famous and infamous in the industry — famous for his portrayals of villains and antiheroes alike, ability to make you despise the enemy to the point of near or blatant admiration, and his skill of stepping into each role and taking it as his own. And he lives in infamy for, well, what happens between takes of the camera. 

“Look any longer and I’ll have you thrown off set, brat,” Sukuna says, without a glance at you, newspaper in hand as if he was pulled from thirty years ago, his phone seemingly laying discarded on a nearby. The P.A.s nearby cower a few feet away, trying to look preoccupied, as their terror has fully set in of this man. 

Or should you say monster?

“I see the stick up your ass makes you as pleasant as ever,” you mutter, and you don’t see that it earns you a smirk from him, his dark gaze takes over you, earning a glare from you, “now who’s staring?” 

He leans against the arm of his chair, “I was just noticing how lovely the view is without those two pests hanging on your every word,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“Jealous?” 

“Of your little throuple? No,” he smirks, rising from his chair, hands sliding into his pockets as he brushes by you, “because unlike those two,” he pauses, voice dropping to a whisper, “I know how to satisfy a woman on my own,” 

And you grit your teeth, holding your tongue — your relationship with Satoru and Suguru was a badly kept secret on the set or Jujutsu Kaisen, but it never was a problem — until now. 

You follow behind him, heading to the director’s trailer for your meeting before rehearsals began. 

“You want us to what?” 

“We spoke to your agents, and they agreed with us that it would be good publicity for the two of you to pretend to be a couple during the filming and leading up to production,” the director leans back in his seat, “it shouldn’t be a problem — the two of you have worked together before right?” 

You can’t hide your aghast expression in time, not before Sukuna glances at your face and sees the horror, and it puts a rare grin on his lips, “I’m in, what’s a little more acting?” 

You’re swallowing thickly, eyes flitting over Sukuna’s smug grin so fast you only hoped your gaze was sharp enough to cut,  “Can I please speak to you privately?” 

And Sukuna gets up from the edge of the table he leaned against, flashing you a wry grin, “see you out there, sweetheart,” and you wished you could rip out his heart and show him how very sweet you were — but you bite your tongue, waiting for the door to swing shut, “I—“ 

“Do you know part of the reason we choose you over the other actor vying for your role?” The director cuts you off, arms crossed over his chest, and you shut your mouth, shaking your head, “Jujutsu Kaisen has done tremendously this season — one of the most viewed shows across the world and do you know part of the reason?” and again you shake your head, “your P.R. stunts with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto,” 

You knit your brow together — not your talent, your work, or art — but your boyfriends? “Your ability to have chemistry with the both of them have enticed the public and the number of times you’ve trended alone this season—“ 

Your fingers curl into fists, “With all due respect—“ 

“If you do this, the film will be a hit — i see you two already, there’s chemistry—“ 

You scoff, “more like a fucking bomb,” you mutter, running your fingers through your hair, “bottom line, do I have a choice?” 

“You do,” he says, arms crossed, “but so do I,” fuck, you grit your teeth. 

You emerge from the office, Sukuna waiting right outside, leaning against the wall right beside the doors,  “you fucking make this difficult—“ 

“And you’ll do what, brat?” his face twists with his frown, as he leans over, lumbering over you, “what do you think you could do to me?” And he’s clicking his tongue, the condescension rolling off of it, “director told us to play nice, so be nice,” his lips curl, “but I like you mean too,” 

He stalks off and you’re scrubbing a hand down your face. You were so fucking screwed. 

“You what?” Satoru’s mouth gaped at you, twisted in pure disgust, while Suguru only stared at you, as expressionless as Satoru was expressive, “and you agreed?” 

“She didn’t have a choice, Satoru—“ 

“That’s because the bastard didn’t give her a choice,” Satoru’s face twists again, this time in anger, brow furrowed, but lips in a sharp smile, “so why don’t we not give him a choice either?” Satoru is pulling his phone out. 

“What are you doing—don’t—“ 

“One call, and I’ll have this guy firing Sukuna—“ 

“And there goes any actors or directors who will want to work for me if these guys go off, and you know they will,” you shake your head, “I’ve run this — it’s either I do the movie or I don’t,” 

Suguru frowns, hands in his pockets, “What do you want to do?” 

Your face in your hands, “I don’t want to drop the movie because of this, I can’t—“ 

“Then you do it,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, and Suguru tilts his head at him, “and after you become the biggest star out there, I’ll take care of that director and Sukuna,” 

You and Suguru both snort, “Well that was verging on heartfelt,” Suguru shakes his head, “but he’s right, you can’t let two bullies kick you off your movie, you earned this role — and when you act circles around everyone else, you’ll have carried it too,” 

You wrap your arms around both of them, “How’d I get so lucky?” You murmur, and Satoru’s nose brushes against yours before meeting your lips, while Suguru kisses wet kisses against your neck, “encouragement and threats of violence,” and Satoru only grins, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” and Suguru rolls his eyes, before his arm slips around your waist. 

“And he really means anytime, last time you talked to Toji, he pouted for two hours,” Satoru glared at Suguru, while you laughed, pulling the snowy haired actor close. 

“It’s so cute when you’re jealous, Toru,” you kiss his chin, eyes sliding to Suguru, “but you’re terrifying,” 

“What are you talking about?” And Satoru chuckles, tilting his head. 

“You mentioned me during Toji? You nearly yanked our princess away from him,” and Suguru furrows his brow, lips a thin line, “maybe we should drop by during rehearsals,” 

You scoff, “Yeah that sounds like a terrible idea,” and Suguru’s arms are wrapping around you, “Sugu—“ 

“If we can’t spend as much time together, then we better make this time count, isn’t that right, Satoru?” 

“You’re right,” and Satoru’s hands slide under your baggy t-shirt, “better use all the time we have,” and as they lead you to the bedroom, your limbs entangled, you knew you weren’t sleeping that night. 

But you didn’t know that would be the last time you’d be sleeping with them at all for the next month. 

“You have to cut down the time you spend with anyone else — especially other men,” your agent told you, “that goes for Gojo and Geto too,” 

“Why is this role controlling everything in my real life too?” you mutter under your breath, “why does it matter we won’t get caught—“ 

“Like all the other times you didn’t get caught?” and your words leave you abandoned as no articulate response comes to mind, “it’s for a couple months. You can have them visit on set, you can still see them once a month, but not every day,” 

“But why—“ 

“Once a month reduces your chance of being seen with them exponentially over the next few months. Just deal with it. After this, you won’t have to put up with bullshit,” she hangs up, as you stare at your phone screen, squeezing it at the sight of Satoru and Suguru’s good luck texts — and why did it feel like you still always would have to keep putting up with bullshit? 

“Better not fucking cry. We have to pretend to fall in love in ten minutes — I would rather not be looking at something ugly this early,” Sukuna cuts into your thoughts, hands in his pockets, as he sips his coffee. 

Exhibit A. 

“We’re not shooting for an hour,” you were on set after getting ready, waiting for the weather to clear up for the shoot, and he gives a gruff chuckle

“Not that shoot.” 

“Looks like Sukuna not only has taken over Itadori’s body, but also the heart of one of Jujutsu Kaisen’s fan favorites,” you groan, earbud slipping out for a moment, just like your life was slipping, “the actress and co-star were spotted getting cozy off set before shooting had even begun for the day,” 

Oh what the fuck. 

You toss your phone away before falling back in bed, far too empty without Satoru and Suguru, only their pillows to keep you company as you twisted in the sheets. You had passed off your social media to your agent to handle — it was bad enough when you were caught in a love triangle with Satoru and Suguru, but now Sukuna? You can only imagine what people would say about you. 

And you didn’t need to see it to do that. 

But that wasn’t important. It was your day off, you turned over in bed, burying your face against your boyfriends pillows — nothing a nap couldn’t fix. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Or maybe not. You slide from the arms of sleep reluctantly, already missing the warmth of the covers as the cold air hits your skin. You’re rubbing your eyes as you check who it is before opening it. 

“Satoru? What are you—“ and his arms are around you in a moment, your breath catching, “Toru—“ 

“You see what they’re saying online?” His gaze is stoic, lips a thin line. 

“We can’t—“ and he’s shutting the door before locking it, before he’s had you pressed against the wood, the grain dragging against your skin. 

“They said you two make the perfect couple,” he cups your chin, his breath warming your lips, “even more than me or Suguru—“ his hand slides against the swell of your hip, “a walk, a coffee? Was that all?” 

Your brow knits together “Of course, you know I would never—“ and his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nosing at the soft skin of your neck, “Toru—“ you bite your bottom lip. 

“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I know,” he says softly, “but I have to make sure he knows that,” his teeth grazes over your soft skin, “knows that you’re mine,” and his teeth digs into your soft flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, pain melting into pleasure, as your head lolls back against the door. 

“Toru, no I have rehearsals in a week,” you whine, but that just makes him soothe the blooming love bite with his tongue, “Toru—“ 

“Do you really want me to stop now, sweetheart?” he’s pulling your mouth open with his thumb, “your face says you don’t,” and his large palm slides down your body and into your shorts, the wet squelch and the brush of his fingers through the drenched fabric, “and your pretty cunt seems to agree,” 

“Toru,” you’re biting your lip, “fuck, you’re impossible,” and his mouth travels lower, as his other hand slides up under your shirt, squeezing your chest. 

“You’re the one who slept without anything under your clothes,” he murmurs in your ear, lips sliding against your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “you’re so wet already, hear that? Did you touch yourself thinking of us? Want us to fuck you that bad after a week?” his lips ghost over your jaw. 

“Fuck, you talk so much,” you’re pouting, thighs pressing together, but he’s pushing them apart, “why are you teasing me so much?” 

And he pauses, ocean blues stormy instead of the tranquil skies you’re used to, “Sukuna touched you. He got to hold you,” he’s pouting now, “that privilege is for us, and he got to so easily,” 

“I didn’t want him to,” and he’s nuzzling your neck. 

“Let me erase his touch,” and he’s lifting you with the practiced ease he always had. 

“Where’s Suguru—“ and you yelp as he playfully tosses you on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, a grin as he watches you bounce. 

“He’ll be here later,” and he’s kissing up your body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts to pull them down, half lidded eyes with deep lust finding yours, “for now, you’re all mine.” 

“I-I can’t,” you’re whimpering, your hands clutching at Satoru’s back, fingernails digging crescents into his perfect skin, only hoping he doesn’t have a shirtless shoot tomorrow, but you barely can register that with three of his fingers in your pussy, “Toru,” 

How many times had you orgasmed? Six or seven at least — it was nearly second nature at this point. Satoru knew what spots to touch, where to press, how to move to have you writhing underneath him in a moment. He’s knuckle deep, spreading your walls as his thumb toys with your clit, drawing another moan from your lips. Your release soaked his fingers and sheets underneath, his fingers surely wrinkled from their time spent inside your walls. 

And by his smirk against the swell of your breast, he knew it. 

“Yes you can baby, I know you have one more f’me,” and you’re already so close, but you have been — it’s been a repeated coil winding and snapping over and over, and you’re nearly to tears, back arching as he plunges his fingers somehow deeper, “know this pretty pussy too well, look at the way you’re sucking me in,” your insides flutter around his digits again, the tips dragging against your walls, “practically begging me to fuck you more, sweetheart,” 

“I’ll say,” and your eyes barely can flit up to meet Suguru’s wry smile, corners of his lips curled, “I see you’re as impatient as ever, Satoru — started without me,” and he’s tugging his shirt over his head, “but at least you’ve gotten her ready for me,” 

“Sugu—“ and Satoru adds a fourth finger, stuffed full with him, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“Don’t want you to say Suguru’s name when I’m the one pleasuring you,” Sstoru clicks his tongue, “wanna hear you moan my name, sweetheart, when I make you cum,” 

“You’ll have plenty of chances to moan my name,” you make a whining noise in the back of your throat, pleasure felt as if it had burned out your nerves, but it still was able to overload them, the throbbing in your cunt a telltale sign, “you g’nna cum, pretty? Use your words for me?” 

“G’nna cum—ngh, Toru,” you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, your walls wring his fingers as you cum, hard, your head thrown back against the pillow. And the squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Fuck, she’s so pretty everytime she falls apart for us,” Suguru groans, as Satoru leans over to kiss you, “so good for us, Princess,” you only moan in reply, lost in the pleasure that still floods your body, as Satoru pulls his fingers from you. 

And your eyes catch a glimpse of Satoru licking his fingers clean, one by one, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve ever had,” 

“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru is pulling Satoru away, settling between your thighs, “you both made such a mess,” and you gasp, as his lithe fingers brush against your still too sensitive folds, spreading them only for your juices to slip out, “I’m always stuck cleaning up, but in this case,” he drags the flat of his tongue up your needy cunt, a moan falling from your lips, as your fingers fisted in his black locks, “I don’t mind at all.” 

But that night wasn’t the end of it — no, not by far. 

It wasn’t enough for them to ravish you, now they have to show up on set — their schedules lining up just perfect to see your rehearsals (though you think their schedules had some help from using the words “contagious” and “sickly”). However the only thing they were seemingly sick with was jealousy — especially so as you sat with Sukuna, going over lines for the next scene. 

You rubbed at your neck, feeling lucky that the marks they left had faded, but they still had begged you to show up to the shoot. 

“We won’t make you uncomfortable,” Satoru pouted, nuzzling your side, as you snort. 

“Just like you said you wouldn’t leave hickies on me?” You scoff, and suguru buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses along the marks Satoru left. 

“She has a point,” Suguru murmurs, but Satoru only pouts, “but I would like to be on set so that freak doesn’t try anything,” and you run your fingers through Satoru’s snowy locks, while leaning into Suguru’s touch, “he has a reputation of making moves on all his co-stars,” 

“So? It’s not like I’ll let him,” and Satoru’s gotten you pinned to the bed, your hands trying to break free but you can’t. 

“It’s not a matter of letting him, it’s matter of him trying to do something you don’t want,” and your brows knit together, as Satoru presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“There’ll be other people—“ 

“Other people who may very well look the other way, for someone like Ryomen Sukuna,” Suguru sighs, words almost whispered against your ear,  “you know that’s how this business can be,” and it was — it could be. The Jujutsu Kaisen set was a rare exception, but this movie — the director’s words still ringing in your ears — it was different. 

“Let us just make sure you’re safe, make sure you’re okay, and then we’ll go.” 

And that’s how you ended up with their states boring into the back of your head. 

“You bringing a pair of guard dogs with you everywhere now?” Sukuna spares a glance at your boyfriends, who were relegated to stand near your trailer — Satoru stood, arms crossed over his white t-shirt, a black jacket thrown over it, his blue eyes narrowed in frustration, as if his crossed arms were the only things holding him back from throttling Sukuna. While Suguru leaned against your trailer, scrolling on his phone in his dark navy button up, stealing glances at the two of you, his eyes narrowed and lips a thin line, “don’t know if they are ready to rip you apart or me,” 

You bite your tongue, wanting to say they had already ripped you apart last night, but you only shook your head, “They insisted on coming today, I don’t know why,” 

He grunts in reply, “It’s bad timing on your end, brat,” and your eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head, leaning against his hand, “you didn’t hear? The director wants us to film our big kiss at the end of the movie,”

Your blood runs cold, “Since when?” 

“Since you were late to our morning meeting, assuredly because of those two,” he jerks his head in the direction of Satoru and Suguru, before giving them both a wide grin, “they don’t know do they?” Your silence is all the answer Sukuna needs to give a rare laugh, “oh this will be entertaining, brat, and I thought acting with you would be boring.” 

Oh, you’re fucking screwed. 

“Cut!” The director called for the billionth time, and you were about ready to wring his neck, and you were not the only one — if looks could kill, Satoru and Suguru would have had the director skewered a million times over by now. Unfortunately for them, looks did not kill, “we need more passion,” 

And you’re biting back a groan, as Sukuna smirks, leaning over to whisper, “don’t look so disappointed, I see the two idiots haven’t taught you to kiss,” 

“More like the partner I have doesn’t make kissing him appealing,” you bite back, running a hand through your hair as you spoke to the intimacy coordinator again, but your eyes keep sliding over to Satoru and Suguru, “fuck,” how were you supposed to do this with them staring you down? 

“Let’s try it again,” you both get in place for the shot, the clap of the clapperboard, as Sukuna’s fingers brushed against your cheek again. You stepped into the role, letting yourself be consumed with the passion of your character, channeling what you felt for your own loves. 

And finally your lips met his — you felt nothing, only the pressure of lips meeting one another, but you tried to show emotion, fingers clutching at his shirt in desperation, the small gasps and sighs parting your lips between kisses, and the way your hand then slid up to rest at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you, more than anything,” you murmur against his lips, nose brushing against his, “more than anyone. You can’t go. Not without me,” 

“What choice do I have?” Sukuna mutters back, his arm coiling around your waist, “it’s too dangerous for you to come along,” 

“Who said you get to make my decisions for me?” your lips curl, “and who says I can’t buy my own ticket to come with you?” And he’s shaking his head, “listen,” your fingers cup his cheek, “don’t think, just let it happen,” and you’re leaning even closer, breath warming his lips, his breath hitching. 

“Cut!” And you’re trying to pull away, but Sukuna holds you there, leaning forward, making you flinch, only to whisper in your ear. 

“Sorry, just wanted to give them more of a show,” and he lets go, lips curled in a wide grin, “looks like we have a break now, so have fun, but not too much,” he laughs, as the director beckons him over. 

You glance at Satoru and Suguru — oh fuck. 

“Sugu—uumph—“ Suguru barely let you get a step inside the trailer before he pinned you to the metal door, his hands dragged over your sides.

“Hold still, Princess, I have to overwrite every place he touched you,” his fingers trace over your cheeks, lips grazing your jaw, his thumb dragged over your lips, before catching on your tongue, “did you brush your tongue against his — run it over the seam of his lips before slipping it inside? Flick it over like you do? Did you enjoy kissing him, sweetheart?”

“Of course I didn’t—“ and Satoru’s taking the opportunity to kiss you, teeth dragging over your bottom lip. 

“Course she didn’t, but I’m sure he did,” Satoru’s fingers traced over your jaw, “enjoyed our sweets’ even sweeter lips, didn’t he?” And Satoru kisses down your jaw, while Suguru is sinking down to his knees, large palms sliding up and hiking up your dress, “should leave some marks to remind him who you belong to,” his teeth dig into the soft of your flesh. 

“Toru! No, I still have to finish the shoot — the makeup artists—“ you whine, but god, it feels so good, as his tongue flicks against his teeth marks, “fuck,” 

“Be careful, someone will hear you, Princess,” Suguru murmurs, soft kisses to your inner thighs, “hear how good you’ll feel,” his teeth sink into your thigh, nipping and sucking, “and how good we’re both making you feel,” 

“Sugu, ah, I—fuck,” and Satoru is eagerly swallowing your moans with his lips, taking the chance to slip his tongue in, while Suguru noses at the soft of your thigh. 

“She’s already dripping, how are you so pretty here, Princess?” And he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, not that you could with Satoru’s tongue down your throat, as his lips press a kiss to your messy folds, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “tastes even better,” he moans, sound reverberating against your sensitive cunt. 

“Oh that won’t do at all, we’ve barely started,” Satoru tsks all the while tugging your sleeves down to reveal your bare chest underneath the dress barely on your body at this point, crumpled fabric pushed up and down into the middle by them, “no bra, Princess? For us or for the camera?” 

“For you,” you manage between moans, Suguru’s tongue tracing teasing circles around your clit, “always for you—“ the word trails off into a moan, as Suguru meanly sucks on the sensitive nub, “ngh, fuck—“ your knees are buckling, quaking as if your bones were made of rubber, a gasp pulled from your lips, when Satoru’s lips press a teasing kiss to your already erect nipple, while he toys with the other between his forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling. And he switches, welcoming the other with a graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue. 

The sounds of the lewd squelch of Suguru’s mouth against your dripping cunt filled your ears, volts from his touch reaching every inch of you, “so wet f’me, pretty, you like thinking someone could hear us fucking you?” Suguru mutters, his lips pulling away for a moment, as his long fingers spread your folds for him — every inch of you exposed, “fuck, you’ve dripped all over the floor of the trailer, Princess,” 

“All that just from Suguru’s mouth?” Satoru smirks, dragging a finger down your puffy lips, while his other hand gropes at your breast, “imagine how sopping you’ll be when we fuck you,” 

And you’re whining, as Suguru teases your entrance with a finger, “You fuckers—“ you yelp as Suguru picks you up with ease and tosses you into the nearby bed — a request you had made so you could nap between scenes or during times you weren’t needed on set — not that you had gotten to use it, until now. 

Satoru’s pulling the dress up and over your head, tossing the garment away, both of their gazes dragging over your exposed skin. Satoru flips you onto your stomach, and you hear the creak of the bed behind you and you know Suguru repositioned himself between your thighs. 

“On your knees, pretty,” Suguru’s hands are lifting your legs, his fingers already teasing your sopping hole again, and he’s bracing an arm around your thighs, “such a good girl,” and his fingertips breach you only to pull away, even as your walls try to beckon him inside. 

“Fuck,” you’re groaning, needy cunt begging for release, you needed it, needed it so bad. 

“Such a filthy mouth,” Satoru clicks his tongue, as he undoes the buckle of his belt, tugging his boxers and pants down to free his weeping erection. And god, his cock is so pretty — long and pink, with beads of pearly precum dripping from the slit, lovely veins running up and down his length, “how ‘bout I put it to use sweetheart?” 

And the tip brushes against your face, smearing against your lips, before you part your lips and let his dick slap against your tongue, before letting it part your pretty lips. The tip of your tongue traces his slit, tasting his pre, as you sucked and licked along his length, until his sweet grunts slipped from his lips. And fuck, you know he would feel so good inside you, long cock reaching the places he always did and that you never could. 

But it was hard for you to stay focused when Suguru bas two thick fingers buried in your right cunt, dragging against your walls, moaning around Satoru’s length. And it feels almost too good, as if you’d melt between them, burning from their touches. And you’d still always ask for more. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your locks, as he moans, “Fuck, s’good for me, baby,” his hips buck against your mouth, his hair sticking to his forehead, sticky with sweat, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,” 

And Suguru pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his face still sticky with your cum, as you whine at the absence, “she’s not either, but I think she needs something more,” and you feel his cockhead drag against your folds, and you’re whining, “not gonna put it inside baby, too much of a mess, and can’t do too much, can we?” And you feel his lips curl in a smirk, “after all, your boyfriend out there might mind,” he’s pressing your thighs together, beginning to rock forward, sending you deeper onto Satoru’s cock, making him hiss. 

“Fuck, take it, sweetheart,” his fingers tilting your head up slightly to find your eyes glazed over in pleasure, puffy lips with saliva and precum dripping from the corners, and it only makes him want to fuck your throat, “gonna go back on set like this? All messy from your ‘side pieces?’” 

“Fuck, she twitched hard when you said that,” Suguru is fucking between your thighs, his hard cock rubbing against your dripping slit again and again, delicious friction sending you closer and closer, “fuck, g’nna cum for me sweet girl?” 

And you’re moaning around Satoru, and his tip brushes against your throat with one particularly hard thrust from Suguru, and that’s it. 

Satoru’s moaning your name, unable to hold back, as he cums in your mouth, his hot load pouring down your throat, dick twitching as it continues to spurt as he rocks his hips into you. Suguru pinches and rubs your clit hard, rocking his leaking cock into you, and you cum, walls fluttering around nothing, as you soak him in your release. 

The moans of their names on your lips send Suguru tumbling over too, as he pulls back and pumps, before cumming all over your back with his thick seed. 

You’re pulling yourself off Satoru, with a wet pop, cum and spit trickling down your lips, as your tongue flicks out to clean it off. And Satoru groans, as he lays down and settles beside you, “don’t make me fuck you right here,” 

And Suguru helps you turn on your side, legs still shaking from your orgasm, as he slips up behind you, his softening cock pressed against you, pressing sweet kisses to your sweat soaked skin. 

“Think anyone heard us?” you mumble, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, and their chuckles rumble against you, making you shiver. 

Suguru answers, “No, if someone did, they would have come—“ 

There’s a harsh knock on the door, followed by the call of your name, “The director’s calling you to set,” it was your agent’s voice, “so I suggest all three of you clean up and come out.” 

Well, fuck. 

“How has shooting the film been so far?” 

“It’s been wonderful. It’s so different from filming a television series, and I’ve loved learning the nuances of film and how it’s made,” you say, sitting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair behind Sukuna, who managed to look interestedly disinterested. 

“Speaking of which, you two have worked together before, right?” 

“We have,” Sukuna replies before you have a chance to answer, “the two of us haven’t had many scenes together before, so being able to finally act together is…fate,” 

You force yourself to give a wry smile, “I forget he’s such a romantic, when he isn’t too busy calling me a brat,” the words slip out and you’re instantly regretting your words — fuck, fuck, fuck. You really just said Ryomen Sukuna called you brat — in an interview that will air on TV but also live on the internet. 

“A brat huh?” The interviewer chuckled awkwardly, “is she a bit of a diva on set?” 

“Oh and off,” Sukuna’s grin grows all the more wide, leaning against his hand and stealing a glance at you, “but I know how to tame her,” and you self consciously tug at your high neck sweater, the bites Satoru and Suguru well concealed — and you’d never have him pass it off as his own. 

Oh, you would kill him. If not for the fact that you had dug your own grave, and he only did you the favor of pushing you in and burying you. No the only funeral was your own. 

“How bad?” You ask your agent on the way home, earbuds in your ear as you sit in the back of the car, partition up as the driver makes their way to your home. 

“How bad? You mean how great! We’re getting so much traffic on that interview. People keep talking about you and Sukuna. You’re trending again,” and that was the last thing you wanted to hear and the first thing she wanted to tell you. 

Why the fuck did you want to be an actor again? 

“What are they saying about me?” 

“There’s some negative stuff about both of you, but that’s expected — mostly people surprisingly, uh, like you better with Sukuna than Gojo or Geto—“ 

“What? Why?” God, fuck the public’s want for an older man. 

“I don’t know. You guys have this chemistry in interviews. The way you guys banter it feels so personal and electric I guess?” Her voice almost makes it sounds like she agreed.

“Are you saying that or the fans?” The only thing electric about your conversation with Sukuna was the feeling of rage running through your veins faster than a million volts. 

“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s mostly fangirls of Gojo and Geto who are relieved they aren’t taken,” she adds, your silence seemingly scaring her, “you should look on the bright side, people are really excited for the movie, and after what happened in your trailer…the director’s happy too,” you see a text from Satoru and Suguru. 

The Boys 💕🤍🖤

Bangs Baby: when are you coming home? 

Six Eyed Dork: we’re already making dinner. 

And you scrub a hand down your face, never having such irritation over the prospect of dinner, “Tell that to my makeup artist,” because you know you’ll be littered with marks by the end of this. 

“We’re adding a sex scene,” and you nearly spit out your drink that morning, sitting at the round table with the director, several staff members, and an extremely unfazed Sukuna. 

“What?” you say, trying hold your tongue, that was only writhing under your hold to say something much, much worse, “that’s not anywhere in the script or the source material,” 

“It was my suggestion,” Sukuna lifts his hand casually, before pressing his hand to his chin, painted black nails gleaming in the dim light of the early morning, “the characters felt lacking,” 

Then play your role better. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead you ask, “how so?” 

And Sukuna glances at the director, who clears his throat, eyes shifting from him to you, “We thought it would be better to build more intimacy between the characters. Add a certain level of—“ 

“Raunchiness?” you scoff. 

“Tasteful raunchiness,” Sukuna corrects, doing nothing to suppress his smirk, “if you don’t want to, I’m sure we can make due with the stunt double—“ 

Fucker. He could have his pick of any movie — he was a pillar of the industry, but you had to be stuck with him. And stuck with the director following his every, irritating whim. 

You grit your teeth, “when are we shooting it?” And Sukuna grins wider, leaning back in his chair. 

“About that—“ 

“You’re going where?” You resisted the urge to rub at your temples, as you pack your things, Satoru’s pout filling the majority of the screen. 

“You heard me. We’re filming in Canada,” with a flight that left the next day, you barely had time to pack, much less talk. Fuck, you don’t have a thing for the cold, but you were told that coats and thermals would be provided — or at least they better be, “I’ll be gone for a couple weeks,” you say, wondering if the sounds of you packing would be enough to drown out or enough sweaters would somehow soften the blow. 

“Weeks?” Suguru repeats, taking the phone from Satoru, “sweetheart, you had said filming would be over soon enough — you said a month of filming in Japan—,” and you sigh, it seems like you had been doing a lot of that lately. 

The throbbing in your head only got worse — the long shoots and lack of sleep weighing on your body like iron weights around your neck, “I know, love, but the director wanted to add more scenes,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “there’s one more thing,” and Satoru is pushing into view of the camera as well, a click of Suguru’s as he shoots a glare at him, “the director decided to add…an intimate scene to the film,” 

Silence, but Suguru speaks first, “And that wasn’t in the script before?” And you shake your head. 

Satoru gives a bitter laugh, “Such bullshit. They planned it and got you to invest yourself in the movie—“ he cuts himself off, “sweetheart, I want to have a word with the director,”

“No, Toru, it won’t help,” you run your fingers through your hair, trying to keep your tone level, “it just won’t. It will just make me look like I have to rely on my boyfriends for protection,” 

“It still isn’t right, what they are doing to you is exploitative,” Suguru cuts in, “adding a sex scene last minute after you already spent weeks filming—“ 

“You don’t think I know that?” you say quietly, “what am I supposed to do? Quit? Let you guys run to the director to protect me? Great, either way, my career would be over,” the words slip out far more cutting than you want, but this has been a knife you’ve honed against stones thrown at you, and you were tired of being the one to take the blows. 

Satoru furrows his brow, “What are we supposed to do? Watch you get taken advantage of?”

“No, but don’t talk down to me like I don’t understand what’s happening,” you snap, “these weeks I’ve had to deal with fucking Sukuna and these shoots, while balancing your feelings too and I’m tired of it. I’m just done,” you shake your head, willing your voice not to break, “I’ll text you both when I board and land, ok?”

“Sweetheart—“ 

“Baby—“ 

“Bye,” and you hang up, eyes burning not just from your lack of sleep but now everything else too. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t see them. You couldn’t quit the movie. You couldn’t fix this. You couldn’t do anything — you glanced at your suitcase — except keep going. 

“You look like hell,” you don’t bother looking at Sukuna when he speaks, and out of all the seats, how did you end up next to him? Either you had the absolute worst luck in the world — or bad luck had a little help from your agents and the director. 

“You look like you’d know—been to your kingdom lately?” you’re placing your suitcase away when a flight attendant rushes over to do it for you, and you thank them, before rifling through your bag for your headphones. Noise canceling headphones that were going to be your best friend as long as you were stuck with him. 

“Why visit a kingdom when my queen is here?” Your eye twitches, and you only wish that planes worked the same as ships when it came to jurisdiction. And if so, you would have tossed him into the high seas without a second though. You could start over — no extradition on Satoru’s island. 

You glanced at your phone — no reply to your text about getting on the second flight. And they had both barely responded to your other texts about boarding and landing. Maybe it was your fault. You had blown up at them, and ignored all their calls and texts all day, until they finally stopped (even Satoru had given up sending you selfies of him crying). You switched it into airplane mode and locked it, tucking it away into your bag, before taking your seat and buckling your seatbelt. 

“Trouble in paradise?” And you scowl, pulling out your headphones, “c’mon you can tell me about your other boyfriends — I know I’m your favorite,” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You put your headphones on, your eyes growing heavy as the plane begins to prepare for take off. You choose a playlist, and start to fall asleep. The only good thing about this flight was you could finally get some sleep. 

And maybe your life wouldn’t be hell when you woke up. 

“I already got us a private jet,” Satoru walks into Suguru’s place, suitcase in hand, as he tugs his mask off, “we can be in Canada by tomorrow—we just need to pack—“ 

“What are you talking about?” Suguru looks up from his phone, “have you even thought this through, dumbass? She barely wants us coming over because of paparazzi, you think if someone sees us in Canada with her that they will write it off as a coincidence?” 

“If we’re careful, it won’t come to that,” he sets down his things, “you heard her, Suguru, she said she’s done,” 

“She’s just tired and frustrated,” Suguru sighs, tossing his phone aside, “we haven’t exactly made this any easier on her either,” 

“I know, which is why we should go make it up to her,” Satoru sighed, “I can tell by her texts that she’s upset — it’s all periods and short one word responses. Y’know that’s bad,” he’s pulling out his phone to show Suguru your texts — and Suguru ignored the several sad selfies Satoru had sent, before handing it back. 

“And we should make her more upset by doing the one thing she told us not to do?” Suguru shakes his head, “we’re better off waiting for her to calm down and come to us—“ and Satoru stares at his phone, “what is it? Did she text?” 

“No, worse,” he shows Suguru a news article — ARE THINGS HEATING UP ON AND OFF SET? SUKUNA SPOTTED WITH HIS COSTAR GETTING COZY ON PLANES AND IN THE AIRPORT.  

And below were images of you and him asleep, fingers interlaced on the plane, and a picture of him with his arm around your waist walking through the airport. 

Suguru’s eyes narrow, “Do you want risk losing her, Suguru?” And he knows it’s a bad idea, he knows it may only make things worse, but — he looks at the pictures of you and Sukuna again — losing you would be far worse. 

“When’s the flight?” 

CLICK! 

You stir at the sound, as you hear it again and again, shifting in your sleep. Fuck, what was that noise? Everything’s heavy, thoughts swimming through thick syrup as it tries to break to the surface and into consciousness. Another click makes you grasp at your headphones with one hand, the other caught on something, but you feel nothing but your neck and shirt. And finally, your eyes fly open just to find a camera lens in front of your face, and something holding your hand. 

Or rather someone. 

“What the—“ 

“Finally woke up? How was your coma?” and the photographers are shooed away, as you pull your fingers free only for him to drop your hand, wiping your hand on the seat, “I didn’t do anything but hold it,” he shrugs, “probably—“ 

You scowl, “my headphones?” He holds them up, and you gape at him, “they fell off. You’re quite the restless sleeper,” and you snatch them back. 

“They fell off or you took them off for that photo op,” you snap, glancing at him, “since when did I give my permission to be photographed while sleeping?” 

“When you decided to go into this business,” he replies drily, dry as his skin was from holding his hand, “are you that naive? Can anyone keep anything from anyone without paying them off one way or another? I’m pretty sure that’s how your little throuple does it,” 

And you couldn’t deny it — the paparazzi more than ever was a toll or a tool — a toll to pay when you wanted word to stay quiet, and a tool when you wanted things to blow up. And Satoru had been paying them off since the three of you had started this — insisting that his connection gave him discounts, but it was more likely to blow his father’s money. 

“So what was that photo op about?” The plane is slowly descending now, your ears popping, as you spare a glance outside, and he only scoffs, as if to ask if you were that stupid? 

“To announce our arrival.” 

“Why are there so many security guards and people?” you mutter, tugging at your mask, as you hurry through the airport with what felt like a military and police escort of men around you. 

“To create a scene, generate interest,” Sukuna seemed uninterested as he strolled along the airport, raising an eyebrow, “not used to this? The adoring fans,” and you spare a glance at the crowds, taking pictures more than even looking at your actual faces. 

“This is adoring?” and then the security guards begin to stumble as the crowd grows a rowdy, as people push through to get through their gates, others try to duck between the security guards to get closer. A security guard knocks against you, nearly sending you tumbling,  “what—“ 

And a wrist grabs you and pulls you hard, as the security guard tumbles to the ground, another arm around your waist. He steadies you, as you sigh, glancing to find Sukuna. 

“Be careful,” you blink — wow was he actually a nice— and then he nearly shoved you away, “don’t need you getting injured and messing up my movie,” he strides off, and you watch dumbstruck, as you watch his back recede until bodyguards check on you and urge you along. 

You can’t believe you thought even for a second that Ryomen Sukuna was nice. 

And now you had to spend the entirety of tomorrow kissing up to him — literally. 

Fucking ass. 

“You can’t seduce me into letting you go,” Sukuna smiled, one hand on your hip and the other resting against the wall, pinning you against the headboard of the bed, “just because I let you win tonight—“ 

“Then I’ve won the battle,” you reply, fingers toying with a lock of his hair, twirling it around your finger, before dragging a finger down his cheek, “it’s only a matter of time until I win the war,” 

He chuckles, hand cupping your chin, “such a brat, how did I ever fall for you?” And you only lean close, brushing your lips against his chin, delighting in the way his body shivered, “fuck—“ 

“You love it,” and he’s gotten you pinned to the bed in a moment with one hand, the other large palm sliding up your body, dragging your shirt along with it— 

“CUT!” 

You both sigh, glancing at the director as you both untangle yourselves — how many times did that make? Twelve? Fourteen? 

“I think we’ll be dead before he gets it right,” Sukuna mutters under his breath, as a P.A. brings him a towel to dab at his skin. 

“We’re calling it for the day,” the director announced, hair askew from the number of times he had pulled at it, “we’ll resume tomorrow, first thing,” there was almost an audible groan from the crew as everyone packed up for the day. 

After all that, you’re making your way to your hotel room when someone stops you, you’re trying to brush past them absentmindedly, but his voice stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Can’t run from us that easy, sweetheart,” and your head snaps up, finding Satoru in front of you, and you’re speechless, no words finding their way to your lips, before the hotel room next to yours opens up. 

“Princess, in here, before anyone sees,” and Satoru’s hand tries to find yours, but you ignore it, walking into the room, not speaking until the door clicks behind Satoru. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” and you waver when you see Satoru’s sad gaze and Suguru’s tight frown, and you sigh, evening out your tone, “sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped — what are you guys doing here? I told you it’s risky—“ 

“We didn’t want to leave things the way they were, I couldn’t. Not like that,” Satoru shakes his head, “we needed to see you, baby, I couldn’t—“ he breaks off. 

Suguru speaks in his stead, “We couldn’t fathom that was the last time we spoke,” 

Your brows knit together, “Why would you think—“ and you’re sighing, scrubbing a hand down your face as your words ring in your own ears, and you know where their minds had went — fuck, “I would never ever break up with you two,” you’re stepping forward, “you’re idiots, but you’re mine,” and their arms are slipping around you in an instant, “I just got frustrated with everything, it wasn’t just you guys — the movie, Sukuna, long shoots, lack of sleep, and not seeing you two—“ 

“We should be the ones who’re sorry,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “we made it all about us and didn’t see that you needed us,” 

“We’re never going to make that mistake again, Princess,” Suguru presses a soft kiss to your neck, and you sigh, stress melting under touch with the ease of a lit candle wick melts wax, “we’re sorry for being so selfish,” 

“Yeah, Suguru’s sorry—“ and that earns Satoru a sharp elbow from said actor, “and I’m sorry too. We didn’t mean to add more stress. You’re already dealing with so much. We should have been there for you, sweetheart,” he finds your lips in a sweet kiss that has you sighing, “we trust you — it’s just—“

“Him, I know, but I hate him,” you say, and Suguru chuckles, fingers turning your head towards him, pressing his forehead agaisnt yours, “seriously, everything we’ve done is just for the movie or for publicity,” Suguru kisses you, teeth teasingly running along his bottom lip. 

“You seemed pretty cozy with him in those pictures,” Satoru presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, and you blink. 

“What pictures?” and then it occurs to you, “on the plane? They framed those—“ and Satoru’s cutting you off with another kiss, “Toru—“ and Suguru nuzzles the nape of your neck, “Sugu—“ 

“Just let us take care of you tonight,” Suguru murmurs, lazy fingers drawing circles on your hips, “been too long since we’ve seen you, Princess,” 

In a moment they have you on your back on the bed, Satoru’s eyes gleaming with need, their hands slipping up your body, “I’m yours,” you murmur, “both of yours.” 

And that’s all they needed to hear. 

“Toru, I’m trying to make us breakfast,” you chuckle, half laughing, half exasperated, as he nearly engulfs you in a hug from behind, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

“So? I’m not in the way,” Satoru mumbles, sighing as he kisses the skin behind your ear, “right, Suguru?” 

“You’re hindering the process, Toru,” you’re trying to flip pancakes for said boyfriend as he traces constellations of kisses against your shoulder and neck, “right Sugu?” 

“Now, now, play nice you two,” Suguru replies drily, glancing at the two of you from the couch, “can’t blame us for missing you, sweetheart,” 

“Y’know how many months I had to go without being able to cuddle you,” Satoru’s pouting against your skin now, “I have to make up for all that lost time,” 

Shooting had finally ended three months ago — after a month and half spent in Canada, you flew back to Japan. Satoru and Suguru had taken up residence in a hotel room next door (under fake names of course) for about a week before flying back because of work. Satoru had tried to convince you to let him fly back and forth, but for the sake of the environment (and your sanity), you sent them both home. 

And still, they both were acting as if you had been away for several years, not months. 

“Does it have to be now?” And Satoru nods, grinning, and you relent, “well, this is much better than having dinner with Sukuna,” 

“There’s a name we haven’t heard in a while,” Suguru raises an eyebrow, as he strolls into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. 

“Thankfully,” Satoru adds, brow wrinkled, “what does he want?” 

“Just a dinner to celebrate the end of production,” you sigh, as you step past Satoru to grab a plate for the pancakes, “the movie is going to have its premiere in a few months, so it’s also to plan ahead for that,” 

“Did they announce a date yet?” Suguru asks, leaning against the counter on the other side of you, beginning to prepare coffee. 

“Not yet, but it should be sometime this coming summer,” and you’re flipping pancake after pancake for the three of you, a stack forming, until you’re finally done. You catch the two of them shsring a look, until Satoru asks: 

“Can you get us tickets to the premiere?” 

“Of course I’m inviting the entire JJK cast,” you smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek, “why would you two be any different?”

“And what about us two?” Satoru hums, as he shuts off the stove for you, daring less than an inch away from your lips, “Do we get the VIP treatment?”

“Uh-huh,” you bite back a laugh. 

“Does the VIP package include you?” Suguru murmurs, a smirk against your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth, 

“Of course,” you murmur, as Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your pulse, “once we’re away from cameras and phones and press,” 

“All access?” Suguru murmurs, large palms slipping under your shirt, making you shiver from their cool touch, and you roll your eyes, as Satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“All access.” 

“I don’t understand why we had to get ready together,” you grumble, assistants gather around you, one adjusting your gown, another fixing your makeup, and a third trying to tame your hair, “we could have just been picked up and taken to the venue together,” 

The two of you had been ushered into these adjoining hotel rooms bright and early — much too early for you to even be awake, much less have to deal with Sukuna. The only consolation was while you were getting your makeup and clothes on, you didn’t have to see him. 

“Someone might have seen us,” Sukuna replies, letting the assistant put his watch on, “or your throuple would undoubtedly get in the way,” you shoot a glare at him. 

“Can you not call us that? They have names,” and Sukuna scoffs, fingers running over his charcoal suit coat to ensure there wasn’t even a single crease, the cut of his lapels sharp as knives. 

“Like I care to remember them, brat,” and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Do you even know my name?” he bears no reaction, but the corner of his lips twitch, “you don’t even fuc—“ 

“Are we all ready?” Your agent enters the hotel room with the director, “we should start heading to the venue,” and Sukuna brushed past you, and out the door, his entourage following behind him. 

And you sighed, you were surely ready — ready to put this movie and Sukuna far behind you. 

But of course he wasn’t behind you, so much so that he was beside you. Plastered to your side for the press to eat up, his arm slithered around your waist, as you both made your way down the carpeted premiere. 

You had been to a premiere for both seasons of Jujutsu Kaisen — but never like this. The camera flashes were blinding, the sounds of the crowd deafening, and the walk down the carpet amongst all these others was disorienting. You were almost grateful for Sukuna’s gruff and short temper, he kept most interviews on the carpet from dragging too long, 

You finally make your way inside and Sukuna parts from your side a moment without a word, beckoned off by someone or another. And it feels like too much. The day, the long hours, the carpet — all of it bears down on you at once, and you feel as if someone sucked the air from your lungs, using it to fill this hall with the smallest remnants of oxygen. 

Fuck, you grasped tightly to your clutch, you were going to pass out if you didn’t go somewhere, somewhere else with less goddamn people, but where? 

And you only take a stumbling step forward, before an arm is around your waist again, and a different voice murmurs in the opposite side, “Lost without us, sweetheart?” Suguru’s voice steadies you, keeps you from slipping deeper away from them, while Satoru’s touch grounds you. 

“Let’s get her somewhere private, hm? Does that sound okay, Princess?” And you’re nodding; as the two of them discreetly usher you away, you barely can keep your eyes open, still feeling your breath lodged in your throat, choking on the very thing that was supposed to keep you alive. It doesn’t feel okay until you’re sitting on a bed, holding your head. 

You feel the bed divut in as they both sit on either side of you, and their bodies brush against yours as if to ask for permission; and you’re leaning against their touch, until they engulf you in it. 

And this was what you needed. 

You don’t think about premieres, ruining your makeup, tripping, cameras, or anything else — just both of them and you. 

“Are you okay, baby?” Suguru murmurs softly, and you’re nodding, “did you get overwhelmed?” And you nod again, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I really wish you could have come with us,” 

“I told ya we should have just taken her with us anyway,” you know Satoru’s face is scrunched up in worry, “the movie’s out anyway,” 

“Not like I didn’t agree — I just told you she would never agree,” Suguru muttered, most assuredly rolling his eyes, “plus, we said we wouldn’t do that to her again,” 

“Can you guys not talk like I’m not here?” and they instantly refocus on you, as you bury your head in the crook of Suguru’s neck, while Satoru does the same to you, pressing butterfly kisses to your skin, as Suguru carefully carded through your locks. And you just sat like that for a while, until you grew calmer by the second and finally lift your head, “sorry,”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Satoru furrowed his brow, “you didn’t drool all over Suguru’s suit did you?” and you elbow him lightly in the ribs. 

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind anyway, I’m used to you drooling on me one way or another,” and now you glare at Suguru, “you’re the one apologizing for no real reason,” 

“There is a reason,” you sigh, shaking your head, “we should be out there enjoying the party, but instead, we’re—” 

“All alone, with the two most important people to us?” Satoru tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “if anything, this was exactly the VIP treatment I was looking for, just us alone, in a room together?” Satoru’s tilting your head if only to press kisses up the side of your neck, nosing your pulse. 

“He’s right, princess, we only came here for you — no one else, we’re so proud of you,” Suguru murmurs, his hand finding its way onto your thigh, “and all we want is to see you happy,” 

Happy? When had been the last time you had been happy in the last few months? It had been far too long since it had been consistent — but the two people that ran consistently through every up, far too little downs? Satoru and Suguru. It had been so hard — and now it was almost over. Only a few more interviews and public appearances, and you would be done with Sukuna.

But you didn’t want to think about Sukuna now — you wanted them. More than ever. 

Your lips find Suguru’s first, lips sliding against his — a hesitation for a millisecond, before he’s melting into it, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before you’re pulling away, soft pants filling the silence, until a warm hand is turning your head, and Satoru kisses you next, needy and persistent, as he always was, his fingers threaded in your hair, grazing against the nape of your neck. But Suguru doesn’t waste time, a hand sneaking up the silt of your dress, dragging against your pantyhose, snapping the skintight, translucent fabric against your skin. 

You part from Satoru for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his, and you see the lipstick smeared on both their lips — you can only imagine what little you have left is painting more than just your lips at this point. 

“If we don’t stop right now, don’t know if I can, baby,” Satoru murmurs, guiding your palm to his already hard erection, “it’s risky,” 

“It is, someone could catch us,” Suguru is still drawing tempting circles on your upper thigh, his nose brushes against yours as he presses his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?” 

And you knew the right thing to do would be to fix your faces and return to the party, act as if this hadn’t happened, as the three of you suffer through an evening without each other — until you get home far too late and far too tired to fall asleep beside them. That was the right thing, the sensible thing. 

But your need for them both was hardly sensible. It wasn’t sensible when the three of you had gotten drunk multiple nights after shooting together — Satoru only drinking a shot each time at your and Suguru’s insistence to get far too plastered too quickly. It wasn’t sensible when the two asked you who the better kisser was — your character the envy of every fangirl as you got to kiss the two “strongest” sorcerers — and then when you cheekily replied you weren’t sure, they didn’t hesitate to kiss you then and there, one after another — and you realized you never wanted to stop (and the three you never did that night). It wasn’t sensible to hook up again a few nights later, heading back to Satoru’s place to hang out, only for the three of you end up in bed together yet again — a habit formed, but that you couldn’t quit. And it surely wasn’t sensible when the three of you had started to date — it was far from it, in a business like this. But you did it anyway — because it was them. 

It was always them. 

You rise to your feet, facing them a moment, before turning your back to them, looking over your shoulder at them, “Well? You’re going to have to help me get out of this dress because I’m not letting you two ruin it.” 

And they share a look, before their lips curl into grins, as they reply. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Of course, baby.” 

“Suguru no—“ and he snaps the fabric of your pantyhose against you making you whimper, “I told you not—“ 

“To ruin your dress, you said nothing about your pantyhose,” his nails digging crescents into your lovely thighs, “and you should worry more about Satoru,” 

Satoru’s lips were nearly glued to your neck, tongue dragging up the side, until he pulled away to scowl at Suguru, “Eh? Why me?”

Suguru shrugs, “who left all those marks all over her neck last time?” 

“You left marks over her thighs,”

“Jealous?” 

“No, but I think you are that everyone saw mine, but no one saw yours,” and Suguru scoffs, 

“My marks aren’t for anyone else but me,” and his fingers tear at the fabric of your pantyhose, as you whine, lips curling as your skin is freed, “and if anyone else was seeing them, well,” his thumb drags across the swell of your far too wet cunt, drawing a pretty gasp from your lips, “I’d have to punish her wouldn’t I?” He kisses the skin exposed between the patchwork tears, making you whimper, “make her cum over and over, until she begs me to stop, show everyone how I fuck her well,” 

“Not as well as I do,” Satoru replies, “isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“I’m not answering that,” you scoff — you knew nothing good came from getting between their fights, except maybe getting between their bodies. 

“Then maybe we’ll have to remind you,” Suguru’s hands drag over your legs again, tugging off the shreds of your pantyhose off, “give you our dicks over and over until you tell us which one’s better,” 

“Sounds good to me, yeah?” Satoru leans down to kiss the valley of your breasts, before his fingers follow, finding the front latch with a grin, “planned for this sweetheart? And I thought I was the one who wanted this the most,” and he undoes the clasp with practiced ease, your chest exposed to his touch, nipples pebbling under the cool air. 

“You still are,” Suguru replies, as he nips at your thigh, eyes flicking down to Satoru’s obvious erection straining against the fabric of his slacks, “ready to burst just from looking at her chest, bet you wouldn’t last a minute getting her off,” 

“Oh yeah? Then let’s see who lasts longer,” Satoru undoes and tosses his shirt with ease, his deep blue suit coat long discarded, before he pulls you up into a sitting position while he lies back, and then lifts you with ease onto the middle of his bare chest, “you in her mouth or me eating her out,” 

“Toru—“ you squealed, as you squirmed, your already embarrassingly wet panties clinging to your dripping cunt, slick against his skin, but he holds your hips steady with large hands, “I can’t — I’ll crush you—“ 

“Ride my face, baby,” Satoru smiles up at you, that same smile you could never say no to — the one that made your stomach tie itself in knots, “wanna watch you cum all over my face, wanna walk around covered with your slick m—“ 

“Fuck—“ you cover your face, cheeks burning, “stop,” 

“Already embarrassed? That’s not good, Princess,” Suguru clicks his tongue, as gentle but teasing fingers pry your hands off your face, “can’t have that, we barely started,” 

“Please, baby?” Satoru pouts, and you can’t resist — a small nod, and his thousand watt smile almost makes it worth it, “take your seat on your throne, Princess,” you snort, almost. 

You gingerly shift yourself over him, still hovering as you hesitate. You whimper as he inhaled, a shudder leaving his body, “how is it possible for you smell so fucking good?” And you hear the distinct sound of him unbuckling his belt and the zipper of his pants, and you knew he was already palming at his length. 

Yet still, insecurity creeps up your body from his gaze, as he gazes up at your messy folds “Are you sure I won’t suffocate—” and he leans up to drag his tongue up your clothed cunt, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “ngh, Toru,” his name comes out far too needy for your taste, knees already beginning to buckle, quivering when he tugs at your drenched panties to snap them against your glistening folds, “fuck—” and he’s pulling the thin fabric aside, his warm breath sending ribbons of heat up your body, nearly shuddering from anticipation alone, and it’s nothing compared to when he pulls you down to seat you fully on his face. 

“Fuck,” your body folds forward, and you barely catch yourself, as Satoru’s needy tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, “Toru, oh my god —- fuck,”

You barely register the creak of the bed, and the rustle of clothes or the click of the belt, “That’s the idea after all, princess,” Suguru knelt before you, his pretty cock aching for you and an inch in front of you — he was thicker than Satoru, lovely veins that you wanted nothing more than to trace, and pretty beads of pre-cum dripping from his slit, “are you going to be a good girl and—” he hisses when your lips part to suckle at his tip,tongue flicking over his slit, before you let his cock part your lips again. 

But Satoru wasn’t one to be ignored — his tongue circling your clit faster, as his hands rest on your ass, squeezing, before slapping his hand down against the sensitive flesh, sending you forward onto Suguru’s cock. 

Suguru grunts, fingers threading into your strands, nails digging into your scalp, “s’fucking good for me, princess. Such a good cockeater,” his fingers cup your chin, forcing your gaze higher, eyes blown out in pleasure, boobs bouncing with the way you rocked against Satoru’s face and Suguru’s shallow thrusts, the heavy weight of his dick on your tongue. 

And Suguru can’t resist — palming at your breasts because you’re so pretty when you whine, as he pinches your erect nipples before rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. You moan around Suguru’s length, your hands grasping at his hips, sloppily sucking him off, as Satoru grinds his face against your cunt. 

The wet squelch of your pussy rings in your ears, greedily lapping at your juices like a man wanting to drown, diving deeper and deeper to depths unknown. And when his thumbs reach up to part your hole further apart, you’re nearly choking on Suguru’s dick, as Satoru’s tongue slips into your entrance. 

You whine when he teasingly pulls away, pressing sweet kisses to your clit, “Gonna fuck you right, sweetheart — make sure you can’t remember anything tonight except the feel of my tongue inside you, that is, until I fuck you open,” and he’s burying you back, moaning at the feeling of your juices slipping off the side of his face, “gotta open wide for you baby — gotta swallow this whole cunt, yeah?” 

And you would have moaned if you hadn’t had your mouth full of Suguru’s dick, nearly beginning to choke on it when he began to lazily thrust into your mouth, a shiver down his spine as he looks at you drooling around his length, sloppily tracing his veins, a graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin, and a hiss parts his lips, “careful there,” and he gives a particularly hard thrust, “don’t want me to fuck this throat do you?” and your moan makes a mean smirk curl his lips, “or maybe you do,” 

Fuck, you were getting close — and so was Suguru by the way his hips began to buck into your mouth, and Satoru for that matter — the wet sounds of his fisting his cock along with the messy moans against your cunt sending more pleasure up and down your spine. And fuck, his bucking against his hand was making the bed shake — and god, you’d reach behind you and jack him off if you weren’t holding onto Suguru for dear life. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, swallow my cock, fuck, g’nna cum soon,” Suguru’s balls slap against your face as he begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, “Toru looks he’s about ready to burst too, gonna clean up our cocks before we fuck you, pretty?” 

“Fuck, she nearly clamped down on my mouth from that,” Satoru says, thoroughly muffled from your heat pressed tight to his mouth, his tongue then returning to fuck you, as you ride his face to find your release, unable to think about anything else but cumming, “cum on my face, baby,” and when Satoru sucks around your clit, a sharp palm bearing down on your ass again, you’re cumming, grinding and riding out your high on his face, as he welcomes your release with an open mouth. The wet sounds of his slurping and sucking, as your juices roll off both sides of his face and stain the mattress underneath him.

And then you’re eagerly sucking at Suguru’s cock, swallowing around him as he fucks your face, “g’nna cum, are you gonna let me cum alone — are you going to help Satoru cum too?” and he’s helping you reach back, leaning back with you so his cock never parts your pretty lips, and right as your fingers brush against Satoru’s cock, squeezing around the base, you hollow out your cheeks, letting Suguru’s tip brush your throat. 

They both groan your name as they cum, thick spurts of Suguru’s release down your throat, while Satoru cums all over his stomach and your hand. They slowly still their movements, Suguru slowly pulling his cock from your mouth, strings like a spiderweb of cum and your spit connecting your lips to his dick, and Satoru helps you off his face, eyes shut as your legs are still shaking from the way he ate you out still, as they lay you down on the bed. 

Your eyes flutter open to find Satoru licking his face clean, still glossy with your release and his spit, “Fuck, sweetheart, how do you taste so good?” he murmurs almost reverently, a grin on his lips, “I’ll have to sit on my face more often,” and you’re rolling your eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be sitting on my throne very often, you weirdo,” you chuckle softly, far too breathlessly, and you turn to Suguru to find him leaning on his elbow, gaze still dark. 

“Well, you do have two thrones after all,” Suguru leans down to find your lips in a kiss, tasting himself on your lips, a soft moan pulled from your lips, “you’ll have to use the other at one point or another,” 

“Jealous?” you echo Satoru, and Suguru has you pulled into his lap in a moment, your back pressed flush to his chest, his cock already far too hard, far too quickly, and your head falls back as he drags the tip over your still sensitive folds, “a-ah, Sugu, I—” 

“The only thing I’m jealous about is that the only thing that’s been in this pretty pussy tonight has been Satoru’s tongue,” and he’s tilting your head down, to watch your cunt rub against his length, a whine leaving your throat that you barely recognize as your own, “think we should fix that, shouldn’t we?” 

“Room for another over there?” Satoru adds, drawing closer, his length in hand, as he lazily pumps it to full mast, and you whimper at the sight of him, “our princess is so needy, she needs two of us to fill her, yeah?” 

And Suguru takes the opportunity to spread your folds with his hand, and sink his length into you, your head falling back into his shoulder, as a pornographic moans parts your lips, and Suguru is shushing you all the same, as he works himself into you inch by inch, “Don’t want anything to think we’re filming a different kind of movie in here, hm?” 

“Imagine the headlines then,” Satoru hums, as he teases your clit with his cock, “movie star found cheating on her co star — one dick just wasn’t enough — she needs two,” 

“Can they blame her?” Suguru’s finally inside you fully, his stretch far too delicious, shorting out your nerves with the pleasure — and you swear your cunt was making a mold of his cock, complete with every lovely vein, pretty curve, and each inch, “this pussy deserves the best after all,” 

“S’full,” you’re a mess, walls already fluttering around Suguru, practically begging him to begin moving, while welcoming Satoru in with folds that only craved his cock, “so big,” you whine. 

“Mmhmm, I know, baby,” Satoru’s tilting up your chin, lips curled in a grin, “Suguru’s almost too much for me — how are you going to fit me too?” and you whimper, shaking your head, “you still want me?” and you nod far too eagerly, and he chuckles, “well, you heard our princess, Suguru, mind giving me a hand?” 

And you furrow your brow, unsure, until you feel Suguru’s hands reach around to your front and spreads your pussy lips wider for Satoru, making your cunt clamp down on him, “fuck, she just got tighter,” but Satoru takes it in stride, gathering some of your juices on his fingers to further lube himself up. 

“No matter how much we fuck her like this, she’s always so tight for us,” Satoru’s pressing his tip to your spread entrance, and you whimper, “maybe tonight,” his fingers tilt your chin upwards, “we’ll finally fuck her to remember our shapes,” 

And he guides his cock into you, and Suguru braces your body against his as your back arches, as both of their lengths stretch you open — like they said, no matter how many times they did this, you never quite got used to it. 

But this pleasure? You were far too used to — they had ruined you for anyone else, because no matter what, no man could please you like either of them, much less both of them. 

“S’full, fuck, I-I can’t—” your walls are squeezing them hard, dicks rubbing together, drawing deep groans from both of them. 

“Don’t have to break our dicks off to get us to fuck you all the time, baby,” Satoru mutters, panting, as he lifts your leg, hooking one around his hip, “already gonna fuck you stupid anytime you want,” 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last that long, Satoru,” Suguru says through gritted teeth, pressing heated kisses to your neck, “gonna start moving, sweetheart,” and you’re nodding, as they both begin to fuck you in tandem. Suguru thrusted upwards steadily, forcing you to ride him, allowing his dick to sink into sweeter depths, pleasure ripping up your spine, while Satoru fucked into you at a rough pace, hands gripping your thighs as he did. Both of their movements drove the other deeper into you, reaching depths you didn’t think were possible. 

“F-fuck, Sugu, Toru,” you’re babbling, lost in the thick haze of pleasure, dripping over your skin like hot molasses, slow but burning all the same, as your walls fluttered around both of them, “s’good, I can’t—” tears burning at your eyes, as your hands brace themselves on Satoru’s shoulders. 

“That’s it, such a good girl, been thinking about you spread out on me like this since the moment I saw you,” Suguru grunts, rutting into you faster, “couldn’t wait to rip off this dress to fuck you right — didn’t think you’d let us so soon,” and you swear their cocks were kissing your cervix at this point, and surely you’d look down and see a bulge in your stomach from how deep they were. 

“Pretty girl takes us so well, no one compares to you, sweetheart,” Satoru sighs, watching the way his cock sunk into you again and again, “you’re ours, just ours,” 

“I’m close, s’close, g’nna—” pleasure built like a coil in your stomach, ready to snap, and they were only more than happy to pull you apart, as long as they were the only one to put you back together. 

And Satoru rubs at your clit, a moan on his lips, “Cum for us princess,” and you do, toes curling as you cum hard with their names on your lips, clamping down around both of their cocks. Low moans of your name leave their lips as they fuck you through your orgasm, hips stuttering when they slowed, “g’nna cum,” 

“Where—” Suguru chokes out, and you’re leaning into Suguru, while your arms wrap around Satoru’s neck, pulling him close. 

“Inside, please, give me your cum,” And they both moan, slowing until they notch themselves deep as they both cum, thick releases painting your walls, continuing to fuck their cum deeper inside, “ngh, fuck,” And Suguru finds your lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, as Satoru digs his teeth into your neck, no protest coming to your mind, only just a want for more, more, more. 

And they slow, creak of the mattress and the pants stilling into silence, as you lean back against Suguru, Satoru’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder as the three of you bask in the afterglow. 

And finally, Satoru slowly pulls himself from you, groaning as he watches the evidence of the double creampie they gave you drips from inside you, “Fuck, sweetheart, we filled you up,” 

“A shame to waste it,” Suguru murmurs, as he pulls his softening erection from inside you, “should we plug her up, make her keep our cum inside her for the rest of the night?” and you’re biting back a moan, but Satoru doesn’t miss the way your lower lips twitch. 

“Oh, she likes that,” Satoru grins, cupping your face to find your lips in a languid kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue that teases teasingly over the seam of your lips,  “or maybe we should fuck her again and give her more until it drips down her thighs all night, hm?” 

And the moment is fraught with tension, as the two of them lean in again to kiss you, before the door bursts open, making all three of you freeze. 

Fuck (and not in the good way). 

“Oi, what the fuck,” the three of you glance over, as Satoru and Suguru hurriedly covered you up with Suguru’s nearby discarded jacket, “you fucking idiots—” 

“Look who’s talking,” Satoru scoffs, “fuck off,” 

“I would say the same to you, but you already did,” Sukuna shakes his head, “all night you’ve been gone, and you can’t be bothered to keep track of the time?” and your brow knits together, “it’s nearly time for the fucking—”

“Question and answer, with the press,” the warmth of their embraces erased in a moment by the news, a bucket of ice water spilled over your head, “fuck,” you’re trying to scramble to get up, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t out there like this—” 

“No fuck you can’t,” Sukuna scoffs, and Suguru glares at him, as he helps you into your dress, while Satoru stands with his jacket as a partition.

“Stop talking if you’re not going to help,” and you’re lucky the dress doesn’t require six people to get into, and you had chosen something relatively simple, with a fucking string corset you were beginning to regret as Suguru tried to retie it as best he could, “fuck, why was this dress so easy to take off?” But he finally gets it, as you open the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“My makeup, my hair — I can fix it, but not the way it was before,” you’re covering your face, how was your career over before you barely started? “Fuck, what do I do—” 

“It’s simple,” Satoru sighs, “as much as I hate to suggest this, and I probably will go gouge my eyes out—” 

You sigh, “Toru—” 

“I have an idea,” Satoru’s eyes slide to Sukuna, disgust evident in his face, until he glances back at you, “but we’ll need his help,” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t know your name either,” Satoru’s head snaps back to Sukuna. 

“You don’t know—” 

Sukuna smirks, “What’s the plan?” 

Satoru’s expression sours, as he scratches the back of his head, “Well…” 

“You surprised me, brat,” Sukuna says, as he holds your arm, as the two of you make your way back into the ballroom, and you’re adjusting your dress, still far too self conscious — as if everyone could see what you did — even though that was the plan. 

“That I agreed to this?” you murmur. 

“No, that you bit me that hard,” he rubbed the mark you left on his neck, as your cheeks burn, “didn’t expect a tiny thing like you to be able to bite that well,” 

“Well, I had to make it look real,” you look away, but look back when you’re about to reach the doors of the ballroom, “fuck, everyone is going to look at us, aren’t they?” 

“Let them enjoy the show,” an arm slides around your waist, “you know they will.” 

~~~

It’s only been a few weeks since the film premiered, and it’s already far surpassed some of the top grossing films this year. A lot of the buzz generated from the film has been around rumors surrounding the relationship between the two lead co-stars—their tumultuous relationship seems to have come to an end—

And you tune out the video for a moment, scrolling into the comments to see what people are saying: 

sukunasthirdleg69: damn can i get on him next? 👅 

gegesnumber1hater: wonder if she got back with gojo or geto again? 🤭 I’d like to see that groupchat pop off. 

gogecutestprincess replied to gegesnumber1hater: no way she lost her chance with gojo and geto 😤 they deserve better…like each other

You chuckled, at least the news of you and Sukuna had spread as planned. You had enough of the coverage of the premiere with the zoomed in images of your clothes and the marks on both of your bodies. But finally it was done — but how long would it be until you slipped up with Satoru or Suguru and the rumors would begin again? 

“What are you thinking about so much? Aside from me,” Satoru collapses on the couch beside you, hair still damp from the shower, arm slipping around your waist, as he leans over your shoulder, “what are they saying now?” 

“Just more rumors — some are wondering if we got back together,” 

“How could they ever think we let you go?” Suguru presses a kiss to the top of your head, before sitting beside you. 

“I still hate that they think the marks I left are from Sukuna,” Satoru mumbles, as you flip through the comments, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, “how could they not realize it was my hard work that put those marks there?” 

“Because it’s so distinct,” you snort, and he’s pouting as you press a kiss to his cheek, “not everyone has your sharp eyes, Toru,” 

“And yet you saved every picture they got of her,” Suguru smirks, and Satoru glares at him, “but I did too,” 

“What are we going to do when they start talking about us again?” Satoru tilts his head at your question. 

“Let them,” Satoru leans back on the couch, fingers toying with a strand of your hair, “and if you really don’t like it, we can pay them off,” 

“And if I don’t want to pay them off?” Both of them furrow their brows, “what if I want them to know?” You add, chewing on your lip, “about us?” 

“You want to?” Suguru’s gaze softens, “but more than us, it could impact your career,” 

“It already had,” you scoff, when had it not recently? If it was going to be like this, you would at least like to be in control of the narrative, “everyone is always talking about us, well,” your lips curl into a grin, why don’t we give them something to talk about?” 

“And what would that be?” Satoru hums. 

You lock your phone screen, “When does shooting and press start for season three of jjk?” 

~~~~

A few months later….

“A successful film, several offers to be in other blockbusters, and now you’re back shooting season three of Jujutsu Kaisen,” the interviewer leans back, shaking her head, as she fans herself with her interview cards, “I think we were lucky to get an interview with you now! Although it isn’t in person this time,” 

“Well, you can’t forget your roots,” and you couldn’t — this was the first show that had requested you for an interview all those years ago when season one of Jujutsu Kaisen was airing, even if you had relegate them to a video interview, “it feels like this year has been that in many ways,” 

“Oh? How is that?” and your lips curl. 

“Last year with my first feature film and everything else, it felt like starting over — starting from scratch with something so new that I barely recognized myself at some point,” your hands clasped in your lap, “this year, after the film gained so much traction, and going back to film the show that made my career, it just feels like coming home — especially to the cast,” 

“Speaking of the cast, are you going to see more behind the scenes with Gojo and Geto?” she grins, “so many of your videos with those two went viral — are we going to see more of the three of you messing around?” 

And you can’t help the smile on your lips, “Oh definitely you will be seeing more of that,” you’re tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and the lights glint off a set of two rings on your finger, diamonds glinting as if begging for notice, and you hear a small gasp. 

“Is that—” and you freeze a moment, before your smile grows wider, and the interviewer squeals, “Are you married?” 

“Guilty,” 

The interviewer grins harder than you are — and you’re not quite sure if she’s more thrilled at the news or of getting this exclusive, “Who’s the lucky man?” 

And you open your mouth, when the camera goes out of focus for a moment, only for it to come back into focus with Satoru and Suguru leaning into the frame of the camera, their arms around your sides. And Satoru lowers his sunglasses with a smirk. 

“Who said it’s just one?” 

✧ a/n: ahh this was super fun to write just because of how much crack it was hahah, i hope you guys enjoyed <3

✧ taglist: @forest-hashira , @supilyu , @yamaguccitadashi, @kentocalls, @magicalgirlb, @ssetsuka , @isabeauwolf , @lemonintrovert01 , @astraecea-silversin , @cerene-dipity , @whorefornoodles , @hobimysolecito , @risuola , @ja-zz , @spider-fan72 , @jayathelostdragon , @therealestpussyeater , @too-much-snow , @umarureid , @rosso-seta , @maddie-jayne , @at-the-chateau , @cherrypieyourface, @sleepysaurusworld , @lucilferz , @spltbtch , @bobfloydluvsblackwomen , @johannakhalafalla , @augustwinesworld , @catsgomurp , @psychxbby, @hellkaiserinphoenix , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @cstandsforchaos , @sunamatic , @lycoris-01 , @mua-for-now , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @voids-universe , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @gorouenjoyer

[agaypanic]

hi omg i got so excited when i saw you were doing egon spengler x reader aaaa! could you do egon and an personality opposite reader? he's all serious and deadpan while she's happy and upbeat (it'd be cool if she was the new girl in the team and had a crush on him). sort of like a "she fell first, he fell harder" situation?

The Sunlight On My Spores (Egon Spengler X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The new addition to the ghostbuster’s team is a ray of sunshine, and she has her sights on a scientist with an interest in fungi and the supernatural.

A/N: AHHHHH ive been waiting for an egon/ghostbuster request!!! since i havent written for egon before, i hope i get his character right lol also idk shit about science/paranormal jargon. and idk if eegs is spelled the way it should but it’s pronounced ee-gs, like egon but s instead of on

***

Joining the Ghostbusters definitely brought amusement and hecticness to your daily life. Although you handled more of the office work, you had seen your fair share of the paranormal action. Namely Slimer, who would get ahold of your lunch every now and then.

Ray was the first on the team that you had met, being the one to interview you. You liked to call him ‘Sun-Ray’ for his bright and positive personality.

You were pretty much hired on the spot, mainly because Janine had been complaining about the lack of extra help. But as long as you had a steady paycheck, you didn’t mind. Ray had immediately showed you around the firehouse. You met Peter and Winston on the main floor, the former being flirtatious and the latter being more polite in his welcoming. 

Then Ray took you up to the second floor, where the dining area, sleeping quarters, and lab were.

That’s where you met Egon Spengler. His tall frame was hunched over one of the lab’s many workbenches, doing some soldering work on a proton pack.

“Spengs!” Ray said with a wide grin, bringing you over to the scientist. The man in question set down the soldering iron and straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he turned around.

“What is it, Ray?” He asked in a somewhat monotone voice. He glanced at you, furrowing his brows slightly before looking back at his friend. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, our new recruit!” Ray replied enthusiastically, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Ah, so you’ve filled the new receptionist position.” He said, giving you a once-over. “Janine will be happy to hear that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spengler.” You greeted with a smile. He outreached his hand, which you grasped firmly and gave a few shakes. His hand was slightly calloused, probably from his work, but still felt nice.

“Egon’s fine.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers on paranormal studies; I think the whole thing’s fascinating.” 

Some of his research papers weren’t the only thing of Egon’s you’ve seen. Ever since the Ghostbusters had gained some popularity, you couldn’t help but find him quite cute, spending an extra few seconds looking at him whenever a picture of the group was in your newspaper or on your television screen. 

And he was definitely even more handsome in person.

“Well then, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” Ray grinned, but your focus was still on the spectacled man before you.

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.” Although his voice was a bit monotonous, the response was genuine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my spore samples.”

“Spore samples?” You asked with curiosity.

“Yes. I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” 

“That sounds like fun!” Egon was a bit taken aback by your response. That wasn’t a reply he was used to hearing. And the fact that you sounded genuine and peppy was even more confusing to him. 

Ray, wanting to show you the rest of the firehouse, started to pull you away. You gave a quick goodbye to Egon before bounding down the stairs after Ray. Meanwhile, Egon needed to take a second to get his befuddled thoughts straight before he could tend to his samples.

***

You fell into a routine pretty quickly. The job was mainly making appointments and ensuring the boys were ready for a call, scheduled or unexpected. Occasionally, you filed paperwork or got coffee for everyone at odd hours in the day. But because the job was shared between you and Janine, you often had at least a little bit of free time.

“Got another one!” Peter announced as he stepped out of the Ecto-1 that had just rolled into the firehouse, holding up a slightly smoking trap. As Winston and Ray emerged from the car, you wondered if Peter had been wearing a poncho because he was the only one not covered at least halfway in goo. “He was a real slimy one, too.”

“I can tell.” You laughed as Ray and Winston peeled out of their uniforms with a grimace. 

“You’re back.” Egon’s voice almost made you jump; you hadn’t realized he had come down from the lab. He walked until he was standing next to you, holding his hand out towards the ghost trap. “I’ll take that, Peter. Ray, come with me, I want to discuss the containment facility with you.”

“What about it?” Ray asked as he closed his locker. Egon brushed past you to walk down to the basement, Ray close behind.

Not wanting to be caught staring at Egon’s leaving form, you whipped back around to the car. It seemed that Winston and Ray weren’t the only ones who got slimed. Poor Ecto.

“I think I’m gonna clean the car.” You thought aloud. “You guys don’t have any more calls until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Y/n,” Winston said. 

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Peter interjected. “We gotta ride in style, after all.”

“Really, Winston, I don’t mind.” You insisted. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Suit yourself.” He said with a shrug.

Patting you on the shoulder, Winston went upstairs to take a shower. While Peter hung up his jumpsuit, you looked around in a storage closet for car washing supplies.

“Y/n?” You looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Egon peeking out of the basement entrance.

“Yeah, Eegs?”

“You, uh-” He cleared his throat, cheeks going slightly pink, and you wondered why. “You can wear my jumpsuit, if you want. So your clothes don’t get dirty.”

You grinned, straightening up from your slightly bent position. Peter raised a brow at Egon, although you couldn’t see that because you were also looking at the tall man.

“Thanks, Egon!”

He nodded once before going back downstairs, Peter hot on his tail. 

“You sweet on her or something, Spengs?” He asked quietly, not wanting to gain your attention.

“Shut up, Venkman.”

***

Music blasted as you washed the soap suds of the Ecto-1. You were pretty sure everyone was out of the building, either getting lunch or just not wanting to be in the firehouse. You had taken Egon up on his offer, his jumpsuit fitting very baggy on you. You had to roll up the sleeves and pantlegs, but you didn’t mind. Especially when seeing the patch with his last name on your chest.

Over the music and your own voice singing along to Whitney Houston, you didn’t hear Egon walking down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he watched as you jumped around to the beat. 

“I need a man who’ll take the chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last.” You sprayed the last of the soap off the front of the car before turning the hose off. “So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls. Ohh- Oh!” You yelped in surprise as you turned around, seeing Egon, who was still looking at you. His eyes trailed up and down your form, but it was so quick that you didn’t notice. “Hey, Eegs! I thought you’d gone out with the others.” Even after turning down the radio to hear his response, you still danced a bit. Although, your movements were a bit more subdued.

“I was up in the lab, checking on my fungi.” 

“Oh! Was the music distracting you?” You asked, already sounding apologetic. “I can keep it down if you-”

“No!” Egon answered quickly, taking the both of you by surprise. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “No, the music’s fine. I wanted a snack and found that we were out of Twinkies, so I was going to get some.” 

You nodded in understanding, moving to put away the car cleaning supplies that you were no longer using. And then you noticed that Egon hadn’t made any move to leave. You looked over your shoulder, seeing that he was standing in the same spot with eyes darting around the room, and turned back around to face him. You tilted your head with a questioning look.

“Would you, ahem, would you like to come with me?” He seemed a bit shy to ask, and it made you smile brightly. “Wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone and all.”

“Sure!” You answered enthusiastically. “Lemme just put all this away.” 

Without asking, Egon helped you gather everything and put it in the storage closet. You unrolled the limbs of Egon’s uniform, and he couldn’t help but admire you in his attire, despite how much the fabric consumed you. It was hung back up in his locker with care before you grabbed your purse from your desk and skipped over to him.

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you walked out of the firehouse. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his. But before you could pull away and apologize for not asking, he was already pulling you along the sidewalk, the tiniest hint of a smile on his serious face.

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoonkook x Reader

Touch-Starved [Main Story]

Yoongi has a crush on you, but is convinced you're not interested in him. You have a crush on Yoongi, but are sure that he'd never like you if he knew your secret. Jungkook has a crush on you but won't admit it to anyone, and you have a crush on Jungkook, but you think you know that he'd never see you as a possible partner, because he knows your secret. It's all just such a mess. How could you ever sort this out?

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Bangtan, Wolf!Jungkook, Wolf!Yoongi, Dog!Reader, Puppy!Reader, DDLG aspects and themes, no judgement allowed here, non-sexual regression!!!, none of those themes are sexualized in this work, hurt and comfort, major fluff but also lots of angst and insecurity, friends to lovers

Length: idk long didn't count

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Yoongi is not good at things like affection, or relationships at that.

He easily turns red as bright as a spanked ass whenever he has to try and compliment someone he's even just remotely romantically interested in, or he will otherwise simply not find the courage to do it at all. Backhanded compliments are a regular thing with him, his character not allowing him to show someone he cares without implying that he doesn't- a trait that he hates about himself.

He'd learned it from his father, making him even more upset since he never really got along well with that man in the first place. Yet the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like his family history will just repeat itself, and he will find himself in a marriage simply created because of convenience, not love.

He cringes at that, throwing the rest of his sandwich away. His appetite has been long gone anyways.

The reason of his foul mood is in the dorm currently, sitting comfortably on the couch playfully wrestling with Jungkook over a pack of chips he can't identify from his spot.

He hates Jungkook sometimes.

He's always pictured as a shy boy, yet he's actually the exact opposite - easily likable, charming, and most of all- he's your age. The maknae and you are merely half a year apart in age, and he can see why you get along with him. He is a nice person, with his bright smile and large eyes, talented, strong, and likes video games as much as you do.

Yoongi himself does play some games to a small extend, however, he rather buries himself in his work, losing sense of time whenever music is involved.

Overly confident is not how he would describe you- you are simply uncaring of trends of the masses. You don't crave to stand out like Taehyung does, you rather enjoy simply living for yourself and what makes you happy no matter what people would think of your 'goals'. You love stuffed animals and soft colorful things no matter how childish it might make you look. You rarely take selfies of yourself, and never really pose much in images- you just smile, simple as that.

God that smile. If there is an emotion for hate and love at the same time, he is constantly feeling it when it comes to you.

Yoongi wants to be close to you as well, maybe even the closest if he is honest, yet he doesn't know how the hell he is supposed to do that. You both rarely text- he is too unsure if he can, since he is only in a groupchat with you, and only got your ID from Hoseok, who gave it to him in case Yoongi needs to text you something important. You rarely visit him in his studio, but then again, he never told you you'd be welcome anytime. Every small thing he does for you he either brushes it off as nothing speci¹al, or sometimes even tells you that he didn't do it, but one of his members, claiming that he has no Idea what you are talking about. You also show absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.

Which makes his embarrassing crush on you all the more awkward.

He's Min Yoongi for god's sake! He could have anyone if he really tried, if just for his fame and wealth and status as a full blooded Wolf-Hybrid coming from a 'clean' bloodline- yet he is stuck with you, the tiny dog hybrid who sees him as a friend only- if even that at all.

"Yoongi! Finally leaving your wife in there to join us in being social for once?" Seokjin remarks with his signature laugh following, making you chuckle as well.

"Don't be mean Jin." You softly scold the oldest. "Yoongs works hard in there." You look over your shoulder, one of your floppy ears unfolding while you smile that goddamn smile at him- not huge, not a smirk, simply a nice friendly gesture towards him, curled tail wagging a little.

The nickname doesn't make it better.

He hates nicknames, however, he could definitely keep living with your cute versions of his first name any day of the week. He wants to answer you, give you a verbal response, yet all he can bring himself to do is a shrug of his shoulders.

What the fuck.

But you only playfully hold your heart, falling into Jungkooks lap with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, always so cold-!" Which makes the guys laugh, and himself involuntarily smile to himself. He sits down, managing to actually place his ass next to you on the couch without instantly retreating for once. You bravely put your legs over his lap, and his mind is beginning to form the same amount of error messages like his PC system the last time he spilled his iced americano over his MIDI-board.

Yet he only grunts on the outside, and takes his phone out to search for something.

You chuckle, mumbling a sorry under your breath and move to slide your legs off of him again, but his unused hand stops them, shifting them back. His fingers are touching the small patch of bare skin on your calf between your leggings and fluffy sock that had slid down a little- and he has to use all of his self-control not to burst into flames.

He's never really had any very close contact with you, and always imagined what your skin may feel like- as creepy as that sounds. The smile he can see you forming from the side of his view makes him relax, as well- the first sign spotted that he might have some sort of effect on you. Taehyung makes a noise, but is silenced by namjoon who pulls him into a conversation to avoid embarrassing the producer, well aware of his own personal dilemma with you. He is the only one who really knows of his feelings towards you- having told yoongi that you actually feel the same way, yet a bit different. You are, according to namjoon, scared to overstep boundaries with Yoongi, worried that he may snap at you like he did a few months back.

There's that certain feeling whenever you do something stupid and then want to apologize, but you miss the chance and now weeks after it's just awkward, so you don't mention it, while also having to deal with the consequences daily.

Yeah. He still thinks of that moment he'd yelled at you sometimes at the most random of times, cringing internally at it. He'd been stressed with the new Album he wanted to put out, having been stuck on one song, and you had just turned up at the wrong time. You didn't cry or anything like that, you simply apologized for opening his studio without knocking, and left with your tail tucked between your legs. Since then however you'd become a bit more distant with him, more careful, and less touchy than you were with the rest of the pack.

He knows you're a sucker for skinship and cuddling, especially as a dog hybrid who's grown up in a carecenter between many other hybrids, yet you also respect if someone wants space. He loves how much attention you pay to your surroundings, eyes always wide open- you remember things for a long time, and you are able to keep track of so many things at once- yet he's also seen your apartment, a glimpse of your more raw personal side that you tend to keep close to yourself. You're a chaotic person, and he doesn't know how you find anything on that desk of yours.

You struggle to keep track of chores and your own health sometimes, yet you try hard, he knows that. And that makes him feel such an extreme need to make sure you're always happy and taken care of, that he's the one to take care of you.

"Oh, YOONGI!" You suddenly gasp at him, and he raises his eyebrows, looking at you as you move around a bit, your hands searching in your sweater pocket for something. "I actually cleaned up my apartment yesterday, and I found this. I think I borrowed it sometime ago, but lost it- sorry for that again by the way, won't happen again I promise!" You say, showing him a black and silver USB stick, your curly tail wagging in excitement.

You're right, that is his. He actually had forgotten about it.

"Took you long enough." He simply says and takes it from you to put it in his own pocket, seconds later cringing at his sentence. He could've definitely phrased that better, or maybe even simply thank you for giving it back even after all this time. Yet the timeframe of saying thank you without making it seem weird or out of place is already overstepped now, so he has to suffer.

Jungkook chimes in instead.

"I helped her get some order back into that place. Poor puppy had been so stressed with work that she couldnt keep up anymore." He says, laughing along with you, and Yoongi lets a chuckle of his own slip. But instead of telling you what a good job you did, or any praise he really wants to tell you, he only pats your leg gently two times, running his thumb over your calf for a second, internally imprinting into his mind how soft your skin is.

You however beam at this, visibly feeding off of his small gesture like a touch starved pet- and he can't help but find it cute.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

A knock on his door makes him look at it, giving a verbal response in a low "Hm?", as he hears your voice from behind it.

You're not really saying anything, just a sound of confusion and discomfort escaping you from behind the door, and he can slowly hear your slippers softly moving away, when he gets up from his chair to open his door to see you stop to look at him. You're standing in front of him with wide eyes and lowered ears, one of them being pulled on by your hand as he can hear the rest of the pack laughing in the main living room of the dorm. He chuckles at that, waving you into his studio, making him and yourself smile. You thank him somewhat quietly, and go to sit down on his small couch he has inside his studio, laying down so your feet still touched the ground as to not overstep any unspoken rules he might have.

Yoongi however walks up to you, and puts your feet up for you, grabbing a spare blanket from besides the couch, something he always kept here since he sleeps in his studio quite often. You thank him quietly for that, the soft buzzing of his studio PC and the nice air conditioning already helping your fuzzy head a lot.

Jumping over your shadow and coming here was a good idea after all, it seems like.

Yoongi sympathizes with you when it comes to headaches- and it's clear from your behavior that you probably have one, which could also explain why you don't really talk, since it probably hurts. Due to the fact that he seems to solely survive off of caffeine and a cup of instant ramen smashed in between his busy schedule, he gets them more often than he would like to admit. Yet he also remembers how you'd told him once how easily your headaches evolved into migraines if you weren't careful, so he is mindful to help you in avoiding that this time. He digs around in his mind for any small excuse to talk to you, yet ultimately decides against it, thinking it would probably be better for you to have as much silence as possible.

He wonders what your secret is.

Namjoon had mentioned something you kept secret 'for a reason', but he wouldn't tell the producer what it could be, not even a hint. You hopefully know that nothing could ever really make Yoongi see you any different than he does right now.

Except maybe murder- but he doubts that that's what you're hiding.

He also knows that Jungkook is aware of it too. Maybe you both are a couple? He does sleep over sometimes after all, seems to be awfully good with calming you down whenever you're anxious or panicking. It's like the young wolf is aware or something Yoongi isn't, able to manage you when you're becoming restless about things.

Another knock is heard. Yoongi attempts to call out- but gets up to walk to the door instead so he won't shout and worsen your headache. It's Jungkook- because of course it is.

"Hey- is- oh, there she is. I was wondering where she went " jungkook says, entering after the rapper walks aside, silently giving him permission to come in. "Hey- everything okay?" Jungkook wonders softly to you, and you quietly shake your head, whining slightly to yourself before you pull down your ears once more over your eyes, clearly signaling your headache to him as well. "I told you to drink more, puppy. Come on, let's get you home." He gently says, helping you sit up.

"She can just nap here, I don't mind." Yoongi offers- but there's something in Jungkook's eyes that seems oddly suspicious as he looks for an answer inside his head it seems like.

"Ah, I'll rather take her home, but thanks hyung." He tells him, averting his gaze as he instead occupies himself with you who's silently reaching out for him, clinging onto him as he picks you up, showing clearly how used to it both of you are. Jungkook holds you almost effortlessly, while you're instinctively laying your head on his shoulder, arms around his neck.

Yeah, you're probably a couple, and you just don't want to say it out loud.

"You know, you could just tell everyone." Yoongi grumbles more or less as he opens the door for the two of you, Jungkooks wide eyes looking at him. "No one's gonna get mad or something if you told them." He shrugs, and Jungkook looks around for a second, on edge. "You're together, right?" He asks, and Jungkook shakes his head- though with a hint of shyness in his face.

"Ah no- hyung.." He sighs. "I'll- she'll explain when she's ready okay?" He says, as you whine into his neck. "I have to bring her home now- thanks for looking after her!" He says already walking away-

leaving Yoongi confused.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook honestly wishes you and him were a couple.

But life doesn't work like this, and sadly, you're not into him like that. You see him as a comfort person, a packmate and a friend- but nothing more than that. He remembers when he first 'caught' you in the midst of regressing in your home-

the whole apartment a mess, cluttered and absolutely disorganized.

You're one of only three percent of dog hybrids that fall into a different headspace when stressed or overwhelmed. It's not something you can control, and neither is it a trauma response- it's just nature playing a cruel joke on you, making your mind shut down to a certain degree to protect you. It's like your brain is overprotective- trying to shield you from all potential mental harm.

But all of that comes with a lot of issues and troubles, such as difficulty holding a job, or simple things such as keeping your apartment clean.

Jungkook remembers how terrified you were of him finding you in your messy apartment- having had to calm you down for a good hour or so before he could even attempt at helping you clean up and take care of your needs. He's not sure why you're so adamant on hiding it from the rest of the pack- but he's got an idea.

Dog hybrids with your condition are alienated, isolated, judged terribly. And you're probably terrified of being cast out of the pack for it, leaving you alone and without anybody.

Your personal nightmare.

So he just instead has decided to take care of you, and wait until you feel ready to tell someone else. You deserve happiness and the feeling of safety and comfort, but he can also understand that you're worried of how it'll be taken by the rest of the guys.

And yeah, he also gets to be a little selfish himself when he's got time with you like this. He gets to live out a little dream here and there, where you're actually his to love. Because he does love you, to the moon and back- and he knows his heart will surely break a little one day when you find someone to give your own heart to, instead of him.

So he takes these moments for himself, and enjoys those daydreams for now, until he has to wake up.

"There we go, that's already better isn't it?" Jungkook hums after he'd taken out your hairtie, fingers massaging the spot where it had been pressing against your scalp for the past few hours. You hum in agreement, nodding against his shoulder while you move a bit to get comfortable on his thighs.

You don't even know that you almost exposed your secret to Yoongi of all people- the one wolf of the pack you've got a crush on.

Everyone kind of knows it, everyone also knows about his crush on you as well- though you seem rather talented in finding excuse after excuse as to why that can't be true. Jungkook knows your main fear is what you're right now- and that Yoongi could find you appalling, or childish, or anything else negative that could come to your mind.

And Jungkook can't say he doesn't understand your fear- because he does.

"You're gonna get all stiff if you nap like that." Jungkook chuckles, patting your back a little, making your curled tail wag happily. "Don't be a brat now. Come on, we'll take a nap on the couch, yeah?" He hums. You whine. "No? Not a nap?" He wonders, but you nod now. "Okay, yes to a nap, no to the couch?" He navigates, laughing when you nod now, tail wagging. "Puppy if we nap in bed you'll sleep for hours though." He sighs.

But you simply wiggle out of his lap, before you run to the bedroom-

The wolf hot on your heels, when your doorbell rings.

When Jungkook opens the door, it's Yoongi- the producer holding up a jacket. "She left it at the dorm." He informs Jungkook, who reaches out to take it- though Yoongi holds it back. "I'd like to give it to her myself-"

"You can't." The younger wolf denies, panicking a little when he hears something jingle, and feels the toy hit his back softly, fabric ball tumbling to the ground, bell inside the cotton filling the cause of the noise. Jungkook closes the door a bit more now to keep you out of sight. "Just- uh, she'll grab it tomorrow-"

"Her phone and purse are in the pockets." Yoongi says. "I'm sure she'd like it back right now." He challenges, and Jungkook can feel himself squirm uncomfortably under the strong gaze of his packmate, having to avert his gaze. "What's really going on?" Yoongi asks, as the toy hits Jungkook's back again.

"Look, this is really bad timing right now-" Jungkook whines as he kicks the toy back with his food go occupy you at least for just a second to give himself more time to think of an excuse. "-She's.. not feeling well right now." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook you're not being very convincing right now." Yoongi sighs. "What the fuck is going on? Does she hate me?"

"NO!" Jungkook barks, before he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ah.. God, fuck, alright." He sighs, defeated, letting the door slowly open more, while he turns around to throw the soft fabric ball towards where you sit on the floor, toy flying over your head, making you flop onto your back as you try to catch it.

You don't even realize it's Yoongi who's now in the doorway whole Jungkook sits in front of you to start a game of tug-of-war with the soft llushy toy with you, successfully pulling your attention away from the producer who just silently enters the apartment, and closes the door behind him before he hangs up your coat.

It takes him one good look to realize what's going on.

The hazy look in your eyes. The way you don't even greet him, rather occupied with the game Jungkook plays with you. Your almost clumsy way of movement.

"So that's the secret?" Yoongi hums as he sits down near his packmate, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Jungkook nods. "She's scared of anyone finding out." He reveals, while he watches you now nibbling on his finger instead of the toy, before you yawn.

"Why?" Yoongi wonders. "It's not like it's her fault or choice." He mumbles.

"Yeah, I know." Jungkook shrugs. "But I get it, you know? You hear horror stories about it all the time. Friends and family being weirded out and stuff." He explains, and Yoongi grows quiet.

It really is understandable.

"So that's why you sleep over so much?" He asks, and the younger wolf nods.

"She used to be triggered easily since she didn't have a person to rely on." He explains. "But when I took on that.. role, I guess, she became more stable. It doesn't happen so randomly anymore, she's got more control over it. Today was just a bad day I guess." He shrugs.

"She must be tough to handle." Yoongi mumbles.

"Not really." Jungkook denies. "She's very sweet. The beginning was hard, yeah, but mostly because I didn't know what to do. These days it's become easier." He nods to himself, though Yoongi doesn't miss the look on his friend's face.

"You love her." He states.

And Jungkook only nods.

"I do." He agrees. "It's hard not to."

Yoongi hums in agreement, and Jungkook wants to be swallowed by the ground. Now that the producer knows, he'll take over the care of you- you'll grow closer, emotionally and physically, and you'll no longer need Jungkook to care for you.

His dream is ending, and he hates it.

"She loves you too." Yoongi offers. Jungkook laughs a little.

"Situationally, yeah." He nods.

"No, in general." Yoongi argues, but he can't seem to push through the thoughts of Jungkooks mind, the wolf having already decided his stance on things. "Jungkook.."

"You'll take good care of her, right?" He asks, looking at his packmate with round eyes that try hard not to let any tears fall. "You'll make sure she doesn't have to.. feel ashamed, or bad, right?"

"I'm not taking her away from you." Yoongi shakes his head, and Jungkook nods.

"I know you're not." He says, trying hard to keep it together even as you crawl into his lap to comfort him, sensing his distress.

"She was never mine to begin with."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're absolutely mortified when you're informed of what happened- or rather when you connected the dots yourself, after waking from your nap with both wolves next to you in bed.

One look exchanged with Jungkook signals to him that you've pulled yourself out of your headspace- body shaking now with the overwhelming sense of shame you're feeling as Yoongi sits up now as well to look at you with a sense of worry.

"Hey, it's fine." Jungkook reassures easily. "He doesn't hate you or anything, he's cool with it."

"Oh god this is so weird.." you hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by the events unfolding like this.

"Its not. It makes sense, really." Yoongi shrugs. "So this is why you don't want to move into the pack dorm with us?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Its weird. You can say that, I know myself that it is." You sigh.

"You're not weird." Jungkook shakes his head, taking your hand to reassure you. "Promise."

"I agree. This isn't weird, it's something that happens to some." He shrugs. "I still like you." He says without thinking, as you slowly look at him.

"You.. do?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Very much." He smiles a bit awkwardly, when Jungkook let's go of your hand, clearing his throat.

"I'll.. I'll see myself out then." He mumbles, and at that your head snaps towards him.

No- he can't leave like that. Yoongi might've..somewhat confessed, but you still need him. You still want him here.

Wait.

If Yoongi likes you, and toy like him back, and that leads to you Noth becoming partners, that's great. But if that means you can't have Jungkook, you don't want it. You need jungkook.

You love jungkook, too.

"Hey, Yoongi will stay with you, you're not alone anymore-" He tries to settle your clearly bubbling panic, but its to no avail. Your head is filled with the fact that Jungkook wants to leave, and you don't want that.

You want both. Why can't they both stay?

Your cheeks are wet with tears as your puppy-mind refuses to accept the situation. You've slipped right back again, as you make jungkook hold yoongis hand, before you yourself hold onto them, stubbornly holding onto their connected hands, before you lay down on them, eyes closed and ears pinned back.

"I uh.." Jungkook stampers a big awkwardly, attempt at pulling his hand away responded to with a low growl from you, eyes glaring.

"Seems like we'll have to share." Yoongi teases surprisingly, catching the younger wolf off guard as hemeeys the older one's gaze.

"I mean- uh-" he stammers, unsure. "Is that.. will that even work out?" He worries, while you happily fall asleep hiding both their hands.

"Guess we'll have to find out." Yoongi shrugs, laying down again next to you, Jungkook slowly doing the same a few seconds later.

Looks like his dream didn't end after all-

Maybe it just begun.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[dazeddoodles]

Tips for drawing in The Owl House style?

I'm not very good at tutorials but I'll try to give some tips with this OLD drawing and the redraw I did of it two years later as examples

The main thing to understand when drawing in the Owl House style is proportions (the main difference between these drawings)

You're gonna have to get used to drawing skinny bodies with long legs cause that's most TOH characters. A majority of the characters legs make up like half of their bodies. (Though it's more noticeable on the teens and women than the men)

You notice how their necks are too sort in the first picture? The length TOH characters necks vary depending on height, most likely for a more defined silhouette. Because the Hexide uniforms have hoods, most of the teenagers have long enough necks so their heads are visible not touching their hoods

Although not all as shorter characters have shorter necks

Meanwhile tall characters, like the adults, have longer necks. Eda (and Lilith) actually have long necks while Camila who's short has a shorter neck. Raine's is normal but still visible shorter than Eda's. Same with Luz.

Should go without saying but the wider a character's body is the wider a character's neck should be (I see alot of people draw fat characters with skinny necks). More noticeable, most of the adult men have a broad build and therefore have much wider necks compared to the women and children

Also, the witches ears are not completely pointed at the end, they're slightly rounded.

This could be easily missed, but some of the female characters (like Eda and Amity) have thicker outlines for their eyes, almost like their wearing mascara

If shading matters to you, most of the time the shading is limited to under the nose (unless they have a hooked nose), under the neck and SOMETIMES on the ears. Of course it depends on the scene and the setting.

This last point doesn't matter at all but I've noticed alot of cartoons draw blush differently. Some do solid color horizontal ovals, some do a full gradient splotch across the nose, some just do lines.

In the Owl House when most characters blush its the gradient spots on each cheek, and sometimes they do the lines thing too. Or both.

The only exception (I think) is Amity (+Alador I guess) who blushes across her whole face sometimes and Raine who reapeatly blushes on their nose/across their nose. They both also do the line thing too.

Okay I reached the photo limit

[nekassvariigs]

I saw someone having a post mentioning if a character from one piece would be certain about age gaps so here i am in a silly goffy mood.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Idea: Waking up/Walking around not realising youre wearing a shirt saying "Dilf patrol" and going out on the ship/certain places causing some interesting conversations.

Raighley, Shanks, Mihawk, Law, Kid, Doflamingo

Special addition: Bepo for cuteness

I know kid and law arent dilfs but theyre fun to write

Kid

Way too busy to notice it at first until someone points it out.

Hes flabbergasted.

"Into experianced men huh?" he comments brows furrowed in question.

It took you a while to register.

"I know i dont qualify as one but give me a few years."

You couldnt be more embarrassed, not to say anytime he asks you to stand on lookout he'll yell "DILF PARTROL" full blast embarrassing you each time.

If hes into you he'll paint over one of his shirts the words "certified dilf" while working on his gagets. If you catch him in the act give him a sly smirk and run for your goddamn life.

However if you both happen to wear it at the same time again its now your turn to shout over the entire ship "DILF SPOTTED" the moment you see him. You'll distract him so horredusly he wont be able to unhear it for the next week.

At some point you both take a picture, altough the main focus is you zooming in on his tits where the label he drew on was.

"Let me see the photo."

You show it to him proudly and prepare for self defense.

"You little shit." hed scoff ,however his ego was lifted that hed certified dilf material.

Doflamingo

This pink flamingo has been walking around you all morning trying to be subtle.

It was getting on your nerves.

"Can you ATLEAST pretend that your subtle, Youre like 10 meters tall dude you wear a PINK FEATHER COAT."

"So?" He picks his teeth with a toothpick.

"Why are you following me?"

"Your shirt."

"What about it?" you get more annoyed by the second.

"Not your dresscode madamoiselle?" you give him a fake smile with your eyes.

"Ha..Hahaha..HAHAHAHA, i must send this to the navy." He takes a photo.

"Fuck do you mean send it to the navy?!"

"Look, i can already hear "it's the dilf parol woman" with your face plastered all over it."

Oh he really was pushing it huh.

With a loud FWAP the shirt lands flat on his face right on the centered plastered with the writing.

"I think they'd like this one better."

You show him the picutre. There he is this wooden shelf for a man in his pink ridicilous coat with his face covered in a shirt thats says "Dilf patrol" boldly.

"My ass im gonna let you have your way with it."

Onsues a battle between two idiots.

Nearing your defeat you splur out "Y'know if you had a kid you'd qualify for it."

"Huh- Yeah right."

"Im dead serious."

"..."

"Time to take one for the team." He said confidently.

Raighley

Usually you stay over at Shakky's rip-off bar having known the owners well half owner Raighley. You never managed to catch his wife on time however, she was always out so one good day you treated yourself to a hands on barman experiance pouring yourself a drink, mind you its late so its okay.

Whilst mixing your drink you hear the front door open Raigley in sight he catches a seat.

"One whiskey on the rocks ma'am." he gets cozy until seeing you prepare your drink. You shake the mixture the tshirt you wore frurrowing all sorts of ways.

"?" He sees something written on it.. not fully tho, so he'll take a another peek in a bit.

Your drink made, you start his grabbing some ice and whiskey for the foxy man.

"Here ya go~" you happily chirped at him offering his drink.

It wasnt until you were mid drink he said "Say would i qualify as a dilf?"

ah the burning sensation of choking on alcohol.

"What?" you ask him barely able to breathe.

"You know, I mean not to shoot myself in the foot i do happen to look good for my age." he takes a swig of his drink calmly.

"F-First off, where is this coming from? Second off what!?" You stutter, Raighley barely dared being so cocky, and now all of a sudden this!? Did he hit his head?

He doubles the K.O pointing to your shirt at which you stare down, immidiatley embarrased for showing your interest in older men un such a dumb way.

Cheeks blazing you admit defeat, giving him a thumb up weakly.

"You're overqualifed.."

"That so?" He smirks hand on his beard in question.

Now confidently you humm altough your legs were giving out.

Who woulda thought you had one of the hottest man, not to mention the most humble one around teasing you like this when youre compleatley unprepared.

[continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]

Law

Poor guy was hoping to eat his meal in peace when you come in theough blazing the words dilf patrol on your shirt.

He literrally chokes.

"You alright capitan?" you ask him.

He swallows dryly, "Yeah..." he stares at you, then at the writing, then at you,the writing and at you for the last time.

"Y/n-ya, You know our crew mostly has guys around the age of 20, right?"

"Riight.. , point being?" you curiously ask.

"Point is WHO ARE YOU PATROLING FOR?!" Not gonna lie he was determined to know.

"!!?" Shocks sets in as you realize what youre wearing.

"Haha oh this thing, well you know give it a few years everyone will be aprooved, even you Law." you chuckle lips pointing in a whistle like manner.

He mentally stopped until he lowered his cow-print hat lower over his face, continuing eating without furter comments.

Hoo... Oh my.

"C-Capitans blushing!" Bepo alerts everyone in the dining hall. Startling you and Law himself.

"Was not, shut up!"

"I'm sorry!" he bows apologizing.

"Well in anycase we have time dont we?" You chuckle pouring yourself some tea.

Few meters behind you you hear more bickering about "Dont joke about this!" et cetera.

Mihawk

The silent man was trying to enjoy a morning newspaper till perona started babling to him about you.

"Whats the issue?" the blandly replies.

"Have you seen what shes wearing its not cute at all!" she pouts pointing to you , a pastry in your mouth the shirt revealing the writing.

Lightning stuck in his head.

"We all have preferances.."

He didnt want to even think about it.

"Thats right, we all have preferances" you pouted back disagreeing with her.

"Of all things you choose old hot guys seriously!? Pick something cuter next time!"

Bwaaa~ You drop your pastry.

"Who says i like old hot guys?"

"Your shirt says.." He nonchalantly interrupted.

"Ah so it does, WHAT?!" You strech out your shirt noticing the writing 'Dilf patrol'

"As long as she can handle it, i see no issue." He adds in.

Your jaw dropping, how can he be so relaxed about this.

"Stop embarrasing her old man-"

The bell dings in everyones head striking a nerve.

Everyone locks eyes.

Silence follows.

It was the tensest breakfast youve ever had with the two of them.

After breakfast you chose to clean the dishes upon hearing a knock.

"Not my buisness, but good choise." And he leaves just like that.

No dishes were washed for the next 30 minutes out of sheer incapability to understand his approval.

Shanks

All bark all bite he doesnt hold back.

He digs the shirt, calls it trendy,odd but trendy, hes seen worse.

"Y/n, i qualify."

"For what?"

"You can count me as a dilf, no?"

Your brain shortcircuts.

"Well.." You eye him up and down making him wait impatiently.

"I mean sorta? Youre not really the hot DAD material are you? "

"I can be though." he shoots you a grin.

"Caaan you?" you hiss back at him.

"Wanna seee for yourselllf?"

[Continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]

Bepo!

You had just woken up having no actual shirt to wear from your regulars you scramped one from the dryer. You didnt even bother to check which one it was you had agreed to train with bepo.

"Goodmornin'. " Hes as polite as ever.

"Mornin' bepo, lets start some warm ups?"

You both proceed to train along eachother however the longer it lasted the more people gathered around you two.

"Whats this about?" You question wiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt.

"Mm Maybe because youre wearing that today?" ,his fluffy paw points to your shirt.

Every guy in a 10 meter radius was giving you thumbs up making you red as a raindeers nose.

"Y/n, whats a dilf anyways? Some new monester out there?" He innocently asks

"Haha y-no?, Do you wanna know?"

He nodds.

"Well its a preferance for older attractive looking men that have kids or had kids who grew up."

"So.. Do you like ..." he was deep in thought..

He didnt know what to ask.

"Ah mabye Vice capitan Ben?"

Pffttjfjfhdha

"Dont think hes got kids, but hes attractive so i approve." You wipe ur nose at the thought.

Next day Bepo shows around with a shirt labeled

"Shaved ice patrol."

What an innocent creature..

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, I have a new idea for a TFP character.

Jack, Raf and Miko go to school with Susan Farmfield or as the whole school knows her (a nerd who is crazy about space, aliens and conspiracy theories).

She could talk about these topics for hours, it was she who ran the very site from which Raf constantly deleted photos of Bumblebee and red energon, she always studied the former battlefields between Autobots and Decepticons trying to take photos and collect all sorts of metal fragments and various minerals.

I also thought that making Susan an enemy of the trinity would be very interesting and funny, since children naturally do not want their autobot friends to become known to the whole world, and their classmate, in turn, knowing about their connection with aliens, suspects that they are helping them in their plans to take over the world and that is why they prevent her from showing the truth to the world.

And I also would like to add a small tragic twist to her story.

Maybe the fascination with aliens and space was a common hobby between her and her grandfather, who died a long time ago, and maybe her grandfather was just as mocked as she was, and for her to confirm the existence of aliens is important not only to show that she was right but to show that her grandfather was not an idiot or crazy.

And so every time Jack, Rafe, and Miko clean up all the evidence and make her look like a joke in front of all of Jasper, she feels incredibly sad because she thinks she let her grandfather down, but at the end of the day she just tries even harder to find new evidence.

I hope you like my idea.

FINALLY! I had seen this request before and never got to it cause it disappeared!

The reign of Susan shall begin!

Hope you enjoy!

Jack, Miko, and Raf vs Susan Farmfield

SFW, Platonic, Mention of death, Slight Angst, Human reader

TFP

Like the Autobots, the kids had an enemy of their own.

Someone from school.

Believe it or not, it wasn’t Vince.

Well, Vince a bully, but he wasn’t their main enemy.

That title belonged to Susan Farmfield.

Did she push them around?

No.

Did she ever threaten them?

Not really.

Did she ever commit a crime?

Not that they know of at least.

Susan wasn’t even that strong.

She was just the school conspiracy girl.

The nerd for space and alien life.

The same nerd that ran a website that the crew was all too familiar with erasing the bots existence from.

Raf on his computer at the base. Raf: “And done! That was the last picture Bumblebee!” Bumblebee: “Beep bop beep! (Thanks, Raf!)” PING! Raf looking at his screen: “Oh come on!” Jack and Miko coming to his side. Jack: “What is it?” Raf showing them the screen with new pictures of Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Arcee. Miko groaning: “Susan.” Jack and Raf: “Susan.” Bumblebee: “Beep? (Susan?)” Raf: “She’s a girl in our school that runs the website that we have to clean when you guys’ photos come up.” Miko: “She’s, our Nemesis!” Jack: “Not nemesis Miko. Just…” Miko: “She is our Nemesis Jack! She’s gonna try and take over the world at this point!” Jack: “I think that might be an overexaggeration. Susan isn’t all bad.” Miko: “Have you sat by her when the topic of space or aliens comes up? Talk to me when you’ve done that.”

Susan did indeed run the website.

It was her baby in a way.

It was a way to express herself.

To try and show the world that her deceased Grampa was right.

That there WAS life out there.

Like her, Grampa was also mocked and ridiculed for most of his life for believing in the unknown, for believing that humans were not alone in this vast universe.

Oh, how Susan loved her Grampa.

She still remembered those nights when he’d take her into the desert with his telescope and sleeping bags.

When he passed, Susan vowed to continue her search for aliens and the unknown, no matter how much it hurt her.

No matter how many hits or jabs it took.

Susan walking through the halls and spots Miko: “Hi Miko! How’s your day been?” Miko groans and walks away. Susan a bit dejected: “Oh, you’re busy. We’ll catch up later, okay? Remember we still have the project due next week!” Later at lunch… Susan spots Raf sitting by himself in the lunchroom. She goes and sits beside him: “Hey Raf! I heard your model car got crushed. You need some help fixing it? I know a bit about machines—” Raf nervously standing up: “Sorry Susan but I got a—a thing to do now! Bye!” Susan sighs as she is left alone at the table. Later… Susan is looking through her polaroid camera when she sees Jack drop something. Susan hurriedly picks up his pencil pouch and runs up to him. Susan: “Jack! Jack, you drop your pencil pouch!” Jack already mounted on Arcee stop. Jack: “Oh. Didn’t even notice it fell. Thanks.” Susan smiles and has an idea. She takes out her camera: “Is it okay if I take a picture of you and your bike? I need a reference for my—” PING! SMASH! SPLASH! Arcee reeves her engine and using her sidebars, knocks the camera from Susan’s hands. Then crushes it with her front tires, in the process splashes dirty puddle water on Susan before speeding off with Jack. Jack: “Woah! Arcee! Was that necessary?” Arcee: “Miko said she was your nemesis, right? Besides she’s probably going to put it on that blog of her’s. The least phots the better Jack.” Susan, wet from the puddle, looks down at her smashed camera: “…project…” Susan pulls out her laminated folder of the polaroid photos. Susan: “At least I got the important stuff.”

But jokes on the kids, because with every beating, mocking, taunting, at the end of the day Susan Farmfield is as stubborn as her grandpa and is NOT GIVING UP ANYTIME SOON!

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part five (m).

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 10.9k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, unprotected penetrative sex, roman’s implied demisexuality, dick pics and weddings

a/n ; and that's the end of s3!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Roman had gotten into the habit of sending you pictures of his dick every now and then. Apparently, having sexual intercourse with Roman also entailed an afterparty consisting of dick pics and filthy messages. Not that you weren’t enjoying them, he really had a pretty cock—but you were growing increasingly paranoid that people, maybe hackers, maybe curious coworkers looking over your shoulder, were going to find out about the salacious pictures and texts he’d been sending you. And how bad would it look to have people find out your boss was sending you pictures of his penis? 

Maybe it was his way of getting you to stay. Really, it just translated to: Hey, look at my dick! Remember this? We fucked, do you remember that? Do you like it? Please tell me you like it.

You found it strangely endearing, in a way. A lot of emphasis on strange.

And now, as you were just settling into the lovely, spacious room in Italy for Caroline’s wedding, your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

Another dick pic. How lovely. You smiled down at your screen as you replied with:

looking great ro :)

A second later, you asked: you going down for welcome drinks?

Yup, he texted back. I’ll come by.

Not three minutes later, he swung your door open without bothering to knock, peeking his head through. He was dressed in rather casual attire for a wedding event—pale blue slacks, a white shirt, and an unbuttoned canary-hued top. 

“You dressing down as a way to tell your mom you don’t approve?” you queried as you smoothed down your own pantsuit, a soft shade of purple over a cream turtleneck. 

“Fuck you. You look great, by the way. Like a jizzed-up grape,” Roman snorted, linking your arm with his when you stepped out. “I need to talk to her about getting a prenup—this Munion character is a walking fucking sinkhole. Shiv is being an avoidant bitch about it.”

A hum fell from your lips as the two of you began making your way downstairs and out to the gardens, where the event was taking place. “Shiv’s always been more prickly when it comes to Caroline. It’s a warped mirror to her, you know?”

“She’s my mom, too. I get it,” Roman said with a shrug. He didn’t, not really.

The two of you spotted Caroline chatting with Peter, and you nudged Roman into their direction. After pleasant greetings were exchanged (well, less pleasant on Roman’s end), you excused yourself from the rather tense atmosphere to go walk around and grab a few drinks and bites of food. You knew Roman would be confronting Caroline on the prenup and his distaste for Peter, and you really didn’t want to be around for that hot mess.

Instead, you found yourself engaged in a lovely conversation with a pretty, raven-haired woman about the last book you’ve read, genuinely interested in what she had to say. The joy was short-lived, however, because Shiv stormed up to you, only barely apologizing to the woman before dragging you away.

“What? What’s going on?” you asked, incredulous. 

“Check Matsson’s Twitter. Jesus. What the fuck is going on, do you know? Is this a move of some sort?” 

Pulling out your phone, you quickly opened up his profile, reading the latest tweet. 

Going to Macau. Feeling lucky. 

You narrowed your eyes. Soon enough, Gerri and Roman appeared, the former looking apprehensive and the latter in more denial. 

“It could be nothing,” Roman said, which made Shiv narrow her eyes. “Fucking social media fireworks.”

“He’s always been one to tweet bullshit when he’s high off his ass,” you tried to reason, reading the five words over again. “Remember that time he said he was going to release his sex tape? That blew over in a few days.”

Clearing her throat, Gerri argued back, “Well, yeah, it could be bullshit. Or it could be him trying to up his price.”

“Is he just rocking the boat or is he trying to blow up the deal?” Shiv asked. 

From behind his wife, Tom chimed in, “Maybe he’s just going to Macau, and he just happens to feel lucky.”

Roman stepped away to leave Matsson a voice message, because none of his calls were going through. You sucked in a breath, wondering if you wasted an entire evening at Kendall’s disaster of a birthday party just for Matsson to fuck you over the ass. 

God, you hated him.

After sending a few messages, Roman popped up beside you. “I don’t know, he’s a fucking trickster. It’s nothing.”

“Mmkay, so is he going to steal our watches and saw the fucking deal in half?” Shiv deadpanned.

“Hm. Maybe,” Roman reluctantly drawled.

A frown pinched her lips thin. “You’re supposed to be inside this, Roman.”

“I am inside this. Leave it. Why don’t you go find someone else’s dick to tug on? Oh, sorry Tom, didn’t see you there.” 

They were bickering like children, as they often did. Tom blinked in mild confusion.

“Hey, okay, why don’t we get in contact with his PR team instead of him? They’re supposed to be working with us on this. None of this should be leaking onto personal accounts until the deal is met,” you calmly said. Gerri nodded, sending message after message to Karolina to get on their asses.

Though, it was far harder to stay calm when Kendall approached the group, face sullen, his phone held out to show Matsson’s twitter. To your surprise, his head was now shaven.

“Matsson going nut-nut, huh?” It was said as if it was supposed to be a joke, but his voice was monotonous, and his exterior cold. “Keep a hold of that shit, bro.”

“It’s all under control, motherfucker,” Roman hissed. “And where are you off to? Going to go score some junk in Naples?”

Kendall didn’t show any reaction to that. “No, just our mother throwing me out of her party.”

“Oh,” Roman replied. “Nice.”

“Where are my kids?” Kendall asked, before wandering off to go search for them.

Rolling his eyes, Rome snickered, “What a surprise—Ken doesn’t know where his kids are.”

“SEC is going to be all over this,” Gerri said, shaking her head. 

“Ooh, gummy love bite from the fucking toddlers. I’m so scared,” Roman scoffed. “I think he likes us, I do. I can feel it in my gut.”

Pulling a sour face, you told him, “I really don’t think we should be banking the future of the company on your gut, Rome.”

It was then that Matsson tweeted again. This time, it was just three emojis: a game controller, crossed fingers, and an eggplant.

“He’s fucking us,” you muttered, which made Roman’s head jerk in your direction. 

“Nah, come on. Don’t be so paranoid—we’re good. I think we’re good!” Roman insisted. 

Brows raised, Shiv asserted, “Yeah, well if he blows this deal, then who is left for us, exactly?”

Before Roman could reply, you all caught sight of Logan making his way through the crowd, Marcia hanging off one arm and Kerry trailing behind the two of them.

“Jesus. He really doesn’t give a single, solitary fuck, does he?” snickered Roman, gaze following after his dad.

Caroline wove through to stand in front of you and Shiv, inviting the two of you to the bachelorette party. Shiv fumbled with protests, but Roman had insisted she went. When Caroline looked to you expectantly, you nodded your head and told her you’d be there, but not without a reluctant glance in Roman’s direction, who rubbed your back in an almost consoling manner.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be spying on you guys with a pair of binoculars,” he leaned forward to whisper.

“Not creepy at all, Roman. You sure know how to charm me.”

Nearly an hour later, the bachelorette party set off a little ways away from the hotel. There were drinks, there was gossip, and there was laughter. By nightfall, the party began to fizzle away, and you were more than ready to head back to the hotel. Find Roman and rope him into sleeping next to you, like he often did.

Though, as you descended down the stairs of the building the bachelorette party was occupying, you weren’t all that surprised to see Roman leaning against the bannister, a rogue smile on his lips.

“Have fun up there?” 

“Mhm.” You kissed his cheek once, then another time for good measure. He smelled like limes and expensive cologne. You liked the limes more than the cologne.

“Not too much fun, I hope.”

You snorted. “Were you waiting for me here?”

“No, I just really like loitering around Italian streets at three in the morning.”

There was a warm sort of feeling simmering within your chest. “It’s only eleven o’clock, Roman.”

“Close enough.”

Roman rather liked the way your hair had gotten a little more tousled as the night passed on. You muffled a yawn, leaning against him as the two of you set off for the hotel.

“Matsson?” you asked tiredly, voice hoarse with overuse.

“He left me a message—said the tweets were just fucking around. You were right. As always. Lawyers gave him the spooks—he’s flying back to Switzerland.”

You hummed again, pleased. “Good. You did good, Roman.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him, soft. “And what about your dad? How’s he taking it?”

“Gerri says Dad thinks Matsson is trying to fuck him. I don’t know. He’s just gotta ride it out,” Roman said, shrugging. “They want me to go save the deal. Go see him.”

“You’re leaving me alone in Italy?” you crooned, laughing slightly. 

Without hesitation, Roman offered, “Come with me. Can get you away from Mumsie and her nosy little fingers.”

You pulled a wince. “Mmh, no thanks. Didn’t like the way Matsson eye-fucked me the entire time I sat near him at Kendall’s party. Don’t want a repeat of him getting distracted.”

“Good to know I didn’t just imagine that,” Roman murmured. His head drooped, hair dropping over his forehead.

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by a few people passing by, cheering in broken Italian. Drunk party guests, you assumed.

“What’re you thinking? Like—is Matsson… is he good for us?” 

“No,” you said, much quicker than Roman had expected. “I don’t like him. He’s a flight risk. But he’s big—it would be a huge fucking deal acquiring GoJo. As in, change the company fundamentally, kind of a big deal. Could be good for the company in the long run, maybe. I don’t see us working well with Matsson, though.”

Roman studied your side profile, eyes roaming the bridge of your nose, your drooping eyelids, your parted lips. It was dark, but the moon’s glow seemed to light up the most beautiful parts of you. Or maybe it was just the Italian air. 

“Well, I guess we’re just gonna have to see.”

“Yeah.” You yawned again. 

“Okay, yeah, come on, sleepy. I don’t have the arm strength to carry you there.”

Matsson wanted a merger of equals. You should’ve guessed, with how he was talking at Kendall’s party, not wanting another man’s shadow looming over him. And… asking about Logan’s death.

“I hate that guy,” you mumbled to Roman as the two of you walked to the meeting room, where Logan had called for everyone to assemble. “The nerve of him…”

“I think it’s off the table but… Gerri’s pressuring me to push the deal forward. I’m already so stressed I’m jerking dust.” He rolled his shoulders and frowned. “Think Dad’s gonna eat it?”

You spared him an unsure glance. “I mean, what other choice does he have?”

With a heavy sigh, Roman swung open the glass door and the two of you filed into the meeting room. Logan waved for you to take a seat. Around the table was Gerri, Kerry, Shiv, and Tom—Karl and Frank were on call, displayed on a big screen TV. You sank down beside Gerri, with Roman across the table from you.

“Now, before we get the whole circus here, I wanna get a sense of what’s going on,” Logan announced. “Is he a Twitter panty-flasher? Or is he a serious person?”

“Uh, well, he is a serious person,” Roman said, which earned him a disbelieving scoff from Shiv. “But, Dad, he thinks there’s value that hasn’t been priced in yet. He’s gunning for a merger of equals. So I guess that kills it, right?”

“What? A merger of equals?” Shiv parroted, staring at her brother as if he’d grown a second head.

“Well, yeah. He’s got, like, twelve of the prime Asian sports leagues under GoJo’s belt, and he’s gonna fold it all into the platform. Live sports, games, betting—it’s a fucking growth bomb.”

Narrowing her eyes, Shiv hesitantly broached, “Okay, but… fifty-fifty board, all stocks? Dad, what, splits control?”

“Yes, Siobhan,” Roman exasperatedly said. “That’s what he wants.”

Everyone looked to Logan, who was silent for a few moments. There was a contemplative look to his gaze.

“But the guy isn’t a fuckhead?” he asked Roman.

“Oh, no. The tweeting was a move.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his large hands on the table. “He’s not some big baby who shits for clicks?”

“No, Dad. He’s, uh, he’s—I know people, Dad. I’m a fucking people sniffer.” 

Shiv was glaring at her brother, and you pursed your lips. 

“Because I can win any round with a boxer fuck, but I don’t know how to knock out a clown,” Logan deadpanned. 

“He’s not a clown, he’s a tough motherfucker,” Roman insisted. “It’s what you would’ve done, right? He just maximized his leverage.”

Still not happy with the whole ordeal, Shiv shook her head. “Yeah, but merger of equals? That sounds ridiculous!”

“No such thing,” Logan gruffed.

Tom, by his right, nodded in agreement. “Always a top dog.”

“Family stake will be seriously diluted,” Karl warned, his voice crackling on the call.

“Could be just an on-paper thing,” you added. “Real control rests on the family if we negotiate who gets board seats.”

“Yeah. We could still be the puppy-fuckers here,” said Roman. “I think Matsson would let us craft it so that we keep balance of the board. He just wants the freedom and the status. GoJo Royco, I mean, who gives a fuck? Let him have the logo, we take the wheel.”

Sensing her father was being swayed, Shiv finally caved. “I mean, it would be real-scale. It’s a legitimate way of staying relevant.”

Frank and Karl weren’t happy, seeing as a merger of equals would threaten their positions with newer, better replacements. You almost laughed upon seeing Frank’s pixelated, unsure features.

“Dad and Gerri, you guys would stay with your hands on the tiller. Their price rise is real! It’s a proper fucking streamer. Would save that sector of Waystar completely. The future is really boiled down to: movies, TV, music, games, sports, eSports, VR, AR, betting—fucking everything for everyone, and Matsson can get us there,” Roman argued.

With a slight dip of his head, Logan said, “We can’t afford to walk away now. This is our crutch. Must be worth a conversation, son. Call in the team. Let’s get the banker fucks on this.” 

Roman grinned victoriously, his eyes meeting yours. 

You smiled back, pulling out your phone to shoot him a text.

you’re a fucking champ rome

The GoJo bankers began to file in, and you put your phone away. Roman’s buzzed on the table, and he glanced down at the screen, beam unwavering. He shot you a sly look, before tapping his keyboard a few times, deciding now was a good time to send you the picture of his hard dick he’d taken early in the morning, while you were still asleep.

dinner to celebrate? eat this, fuckface

He watched you expectantly, but you were busy greeting one of the bankers, shaking her hand. And then, his father’s phone buzzed. Logan slid on his reading glasses, clicking on the new text notification from his son.

Dread sank down to the pits of his stomach once he realized what he’d done.

Oh, fuck.

Logan stared angrily at his son, who sunk further down on his chair. You were still chatting to the banker, but halted the conversation when Logan suddenly stood up. 

“I need five,” he said.

And with that, he was gone. That was the quickest you’d seen him walk in a long time.

Shiv shot you and Roman a confused look, before following after him. 

You excused yourself, too, rounding the table to put a hand on Roman’s shoulder. To your confusion, he seemed to jerk away from your touch. 

“Hey, what—? Rome, what’s going on?”

He sucked in a breath, letting you pull him out of the meeting room. The two of you stood in the hallway, just a few feet away from the conference room Shiv and Logan had disappeared into.

“I maybe might have sent Dad a, uh, a picture of my dick,” Roman nervously said, scratching at the back of his head. His arms seemed to shake.

“Oh,” you replied, far too stunned to say anything else. “Were you… was it for…”

“Yeah. It was for you. Fuck.” 

The two of you stared at each other. 

“Will he… oh, Rome. Fuck.” You didn’t know what else to say. Logan wouldn’t hurt Roman with GoJo right in the next room, right? 

But you weren’t so sure.

Inside the conference room, Shiv winced to her dad whilst handing his phone back, “Yeah, he sent you his dick by mistake.”

“Well, that was pretty obvious.”

“It was meant for Y/N,” she said. “He calls her fuck-face all the time.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, they’re… they’re weird with each other. Everyone knows. Frankly, I think it’s fucking disgusting.”

“Yeah? They fucking?”

Shiv spluttered for words. “I don’t really—I don’t—I mean—” She shook her head. “Regardless, this… this is grounds for a potential lawsuit. Boss sexually harassing his employee kind of situation.”

Logan took his glasses off. “Isn’t this Roman just being Roman? They’ve been good pals since babies.”

Shiv chose her words carefully. “No. No, Dad, I think this could be a potential problem. This could be bad for us, you know. Y/N could use this as blackmail if she wanted to. And Roman, he’s… he’s a loose canon. People say he used to get jerked off by his personal trainer.”

It was then that Logan bellowed Roman’s name so loud, the very walls seemed to shake. Roman flinched, and you gently patted his arms, urging him to go.

“Put in a good word for you,” Shiv told her twin as he hurried in.

Roman twisted his hands nervously, only barely managing to catch the phone that Logan angrily slid over. 

“Are you a sicko?” Logan asked, voice harsh. “What is this? Why do you send them?”

“Jesus, Dad…” Roman sucked in a breath. “It’s just—you know, we’re… it’s like, here’s my dick, or whatever.”

His brows cinched. “What? Like a ‘fuck you’?”

“No, it’s just… people send each other pics of their dicks. It���s no big deal.”

“No big deal?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking normal. You ever heard of dick pics, Dad?”

Rolling his eyes, Logan retorted, “Well we do publish a number of popular newspapers, so yes, son. We probably invented the fucking words. But why?”

Roman’s mouth opened and closed. He shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. It’s just something people do.”

“You have a problem, son?” Logan asked, watching Roman like a hawk would its prey. “What happened to that nice piece of tail you were with?”

“Uh, Tabitha? Yeah, she’s… she’s not really in the picture anymore. We had a few issues.”

Logan frowned. “She wasn’t messy. Y/N is messy. She’s a good girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s messy.”

“Well, uh…” Roman shrank under his father’s glare. “I like her.”

“Oh, you like her? Fucking solves everything, doesn’t it? It’s one thing for you two to be plastered all over gossip tabloids. It’s another thing entirely for it to be real. And I don’t like things going on that I don’t know about.”

It didn’t go past Logan’s notice when Roman’s voice cracked a bit. “It’s all fine. Nothing’s going to happen. We’re… we’re friends.”

A terse second of silence. Roman worked a hand over his jaw.

“Go on. Fuck off.” 

Roman made his way to the door. “So, what’s… what’s going to happen?”

“You end it. Or you fire her. Whichever is easier for you, son.”

A pained look crossed Roman’s features. “Well, uh, I’m not a radical feminist or anything, but I think, maybe, we shouldn’t fire her for getting pictures of my dick?”

“Then you end it.”

Roman cleared his throat. He lingered by the doorway as if he had something else to say, but he eventually turned on his heel and left the room.

Meanwhile, Shiv had beckoned you out of the hall to sit in a different room, her expression contorted into one of false security.

“What’d he say?” you asked her. “Is he… did he get a—?”

“Yeah. Roman’s dick. Real classy,” she replied, before beckoning you out of the hall to sit in a different room. “So… I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You tilted your head. “Uh, yeah. It’s fine, Shiv, really.”

“Uh-huh. Has this kind of thing happened before?”

You studied her, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Can’t really remember.”

“Right, yeah, of course. But if it did… did you ask him to stop?”

Fed up, you held your hands out. “Listen, Shiv, I’m not going to give a statement to you. I wouldn’t jeopardize Roman or the company like that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you were welcoming these, right? Because that would be… an abuse of power on Roman’s end, wouldn’t it?”

You drew yourself back. “Roman and I are friends. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure. Things are just really delicate right now. Can’t afford to fuck up, right? Do you want to make a formal complaint about this situation? You’re the victim here, Y/N.”

“Woah, uhm… can I have some time to think about it?”

Humming, Shiv nodded. “Of course. Just know that… you should really report this to HR. It’s a big deal, this.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Shiv.” You hesitantly turned away, biting down on the inside of your cheek anxiously. You stood out of the meeting room for a second, trying to compose yourself. Plastering on a professional smile, you swung the door open and stepped inside.

Late that night, long after the meeting had ended, Roman slipped into your room, making sure nobody was around to see. 

He kissed you then, fingers cradling your face as if he was expecting you would crumble away right in front of him. When you pulled away, hands lightly pushing at his chest, he mumbled that he needed this.

And so you let him pull you apart. Kissing you, touching you, holding you. 

Your clothes were gone at some point—you hadn’t even registered taking them off, and he guided you over his lap. You rode him then, slow and steady, his hands roaming over your sides. Your foreheads were touching, the both of your moans muffled into kisses.

It was much more intimate than the last time the two of you had sex—Roman shook beneath the pads of your fingers, rife with fear. Sex was fine, but intimacy… that scared him more than anything. But he felt safe with you. It felt right with you.

And, this time it didn’t feel like Roman had a point to prove. 

He came first, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth sinking into the flesh of your breast, panting wetly against your skin. You were close to follow, shuddering against him, your hips slowly rocking to a grinding halt.

You left to clean yourself up a minute later, and came back to Roman sprawled over the bed, half-asleep.

You laid down beside him and brushed the hair away from his forehead.

“Dad told me to fire you,” he mumbled, almost slurring his words. “If I didn’t want to break up with you, that is.”

“Break up?” you echoed. “But we aren’t together.”

“Right. Sure, yeah.” He sounded hurt, but he wrapped his arms around you, nonetheless.

With no hesitation, you curled your leg up over his. “You gonna fire me, Romey?”

“No. You’re the only thing that makes sense in this fucking shitstorm.” 

“Okay.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. You were never really worried on that end. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be less… open and affectionate in public. It’ll blow over eventually. We’ll fade away, and nobody’s going to care.”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay.”

The two of you fell asleep like that, entangled in each other, dreaming of tooth necklaces and strawberry popsicles.

The next morning, you heard from Shiv that Kendall had nearly drowned himself in the pool while everybody was at the meeting, and he’d stayed over at the hospital overnight. At your worried expression, she reassured you that he was fine. One too many limoncellos, apparently.

To make matters all the worse, GoJo’s market cap had overtaken Waystar’s, and they were apparently also considering other options. Roman and Logan were off to go see Matsson to make sure he wasn’t pulling the plug. You mumbled a low good luck to Roman, not wanting to do or say anything else with his father watching the two of you like a vulture.

Hours later, when he returned, there was a slightly panicked look to his eye. He pulled you into the gardens, where it was mostly empty, save for an elderly Italian couple sniffing the roses a good distance away from you.

“No more merger of equals,” Roman hurriedly whispered to you, which made your eyes widen. “Matsson insinuated that GoJo eats Waystar—and he stays top dog.”

Your brows cinched. “What did your dad say?”

“Nothing. Told me to leave. But Matsson said he’d go with a handsome settlement.” The distress was clear across his features. “And where does that leave us? Fucking—kicked out to the curb with bread crumbs and cardboard boxes.”

“Jesus,” you breathed out. “Well… did he offer you an out?”

Roman ran a hand through his hair. “No. Just—just don’t tell Shiv, okay? We’ll stick to the merger of equals story.”

“Okay.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in what you hoped to be a comforting fashion. “C’mon. It’s time to face Mr. Poseidon. Shiv and Con are already waiting.”

“Poseidon, huh? And who does that make me? Hades?”

You arched a brow. “Hermes. Duh.”

The two of you made your way out of the gardens, to the fancy little tables Caroline had set up. Shiv and Connor were sitting near the balcony, bearing a particularly breathtaking view of the Italian countryside. Rolling green fields and slanted, multi-hued rooftops. It wasn’t too bad of a place to get hitched, you wistfully thought, shooting Roman a glance. If Shiv had noticed anything between the two of you, she didn’t say anything. To that, you were grateful.

He was explaining the merger of equals situation to his siblings (save Kendall, who still had yet to appear), and Connor grew angry with the fact that he wasn’t informed. He didn’t like Matsson, but for a wildly different reason than you.

“Okay, well, if you guys don’t mind, I’m a little churned up about my big brother trying to kill himself, so I can’t really think about that shit right now, thanks.” Roman made a high-pitched noise, before leaning forward and snatching a piece of garlic bread off of Connor’s plate. “I’m fucking starving. Can we get some more food here?”

“It’s a buffet, you dipshit,” Shiv told him.

Before Roman could get up to grab food, Kendall turned the corner, stiffly making his way to his siblings, and you. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of expensive, brown-tinted sunglasses, doing a great job of hiding the bags beneath his eyes. He hadn’t slept a wink at the hospital.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello,” Roman chirpily greeted. Only Roman could somehow make the word hello sound sarcastic. 

Kendall’s hands twitched at his sides. “So, what is this?”

“Take a seat,” Shiv said, and Connor patted the head of the empty chair beside him.

Kendall scoffed, but sat nonetheless.

“So,” Shiv started, looking awfully uncomfortable being somewhat emotionally open with her brother, “we just wanted to get together and let you know that… we love you.”

A soft breath, and a tilt of his head. “What?”

Connor nodded. “I love you straight up.”

“We care about you, Ken,” you added, feeling mildly guilty that the last time the two of you spoke, you were yelling at him about something as stupid as a popsicle.

“I suppose I don’t want you to die,” Roman lamented, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“What is this, guys? What’s the angle?” Kendall asked. 

In a placating tone, Connor said, “No angle. We were just worried that you… consciously or subconsciously tried to… you know…”

“Are you trying to shut me down?” gruffed Kendall. 

“Uhm, you kind of tried to kill yourself, dude, and that’s not cool?” Roman inputted, avoiding eye contact.

“I fell off an inflatable.”

Clearing your throat, you gently said, “You were drunk. And your kids were there. Comfrey had to fish you out. I heard that Soph was crying behind the rose bushes, Kendall.”

At his daughter’s name, Kendall’s face seemed to twist with an unmistakable sort of anguish. “Is this a fucking intervention? Why do you guys get to do an intervention on me?” 

“Seriously?” Roman asked.

“No, well, maybe you need an intervention.” He gestured to Shiv. “You need an intervention, Con. You two need one, too.”

“Yeah, totally, but, like—you’re kind of the top of the pile, right now. We can do me tomorrow, yeah?” Roman said.

Shiv pursed her lips in agreement. “Suicides kind of jump the line.”

“I fell off my fucking floatie!”

“You’re an addict,” Shiv stated plainly. “You’re addicted to booze and to drugs and relationships and sex and work and family drama.”

The siblings decided to argue a bit more, until Connor, fed up, exclaimed that he was the eldest son, and that he loved all of you, and he’d proposed to Willa and nobody even bothered to congratulate him. Your face fell with guilt, but you didn’t try to stop him as he stormed away. The conversation died out after that, with Roman complaining that he was too hungry to think straight, leaving for the buffet table, and Kendall straight up leaving without even saying goodbye.

Not wanting to be left alone with Shiv, you shot Roman a message saying you’d be in your room, and left the table.

The wedding started two hours later. You’d managed to squeeze in a nice nap and a quick shower before, meeting Roman at the lobby with a refreshed smile.

“You look great,” he told you, genuine. His hands seemed to reach out for you, but he winced and pulled himself back. “Now that we’re not supposed to be all over each other, I suddenly have this inexplicable, caveman urge to raw dog you in front of everyone.”

Your lips twitched in amusement. “You are so romantic, Roman.” Careful not to draw attention, you bumped your hip into his, and the two of you began walking to Caroline’s wedding.

Shiv met you at the entrance, pestering Roman on where Logan was (which he clearly didn’t know himself), and also making several incessant japes about Roman’s lost chance to marry his mother. A part of you wondered if she was amping it up because you were there, as if to try to goad a reaction out of you.

“Well, I’m just worried about the prenup,” Roman hotly defended after Shiv made fun of him for not liking Peter Munion.

“She has a prenup, Rome,” Shiv said while rolling her eyes. “She had her lawyer look at it because she wants to keep the London flat Dad gave her.”

“What if he poisons her? Or pushes her down the stairs to get this flat he so desires?” Roman quipped, crossing his arms.

Shiv snorted. “Oh, yeah. And what if worse—he fucks her with his dick. Fucks her so good that she dies?”

A group of giggling children passed by, and you muttered a quiet apology to the parents glaring at the three of you.

“We should get going,” you told the twins. “Must be starting any minute now.” 

They halted their quarreling for the time being, and followed you into the building. 

The ceremony was delayed around half an hour—you suspected it was because Logan hadn’t shown up, and Peter Munion sure wanted to brown-nose some more—but it carried on without him. You wondered if Logan wasn’t here because of what Roman had told you.

GoJo eating Waystar. That would make headlines for a good few months.

After the ceremony came a lovely little banquet, decked with long white tables lined with sweet-smelling flowers, beautiful flutes of champagne and wine passed around. Waiters flitted to and fro like busy worker bees, serving up course after course. There were seventeen dishes total, you counted. Roman said there were actually eighteen—you missed one when you briefly disappeared for the bathroom.

“You don’t have a fucking clue where Dad is, do you?” Shiv prodded at Roman’s shoulder, and he shrugged her off.

“Just relax, will you?”

Connor came up to the three of you then, a wary smile on his face. You and Shiv took turns apologizing to him, wearing guilty expressions. He’d always had soft spots for the both of you.

“No, no, it’s okay. Forget about it.”

“Mhm,” Roman said. “Forgotten.”

“So, guess who’s getting married to the greatest gal in the world?” Connor announced, a wide smile overtaking his features. 

You grinned, congratulating him with a hug, Shiv and Roman slapping their older brother on the shoulder. When you pulled away, Connor pulled up a shriveled little brown bulb out of his pocket.

“Oh, ew. What is that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“It’s a dried penis from one of the great men in history, correct?” Roman postulated, poking it before wiping his hands onto you.

Pointing at it, Connor said, “This is maca root. It’s for Dad’s smoothie.”

“Mhm?” Shiv asked, not quite getting it.

“He’s working on his baby batter!” Connor reiterated. “Maca root, almond butter! Dad’s putting together a more adhesive, potent gloop.”

“Ew,” you said, grimacing. “He’s eighty fucking years old. The baby practically pre-ordered the daddy issues themself.”

Utterly confused, Roman asked, “Are you fucking with us right now? That’s disgusting!”

“No, I’m not! Look at all the walnuts he’s been munching! He’s gonna be rocking sperms like a little catfish.”

“Oh, my fuck. Dad’s scrambling the fighters,” Roman guffawed, batting away Connor’s hand when he waved the maca root closer to his nose. 

With a final laugh, Connor clapped Shiv’s shoulder, before bidding adieu, in search of his now-fiance.

“We gotta find a way to kill this baby,” Roman muttered.

“Yeah, finally you’ve got a worthy adversary,” laughed Shiv.

It was then that Tom made his way to the three of you, his arm curled over her waist. You eyed the fluid motion, wishing you could have something of an open relationship like theirs. Though, you weren’t sure comparing yourself to Tom and Shiv was the best way to go.

Tom let it slip that they were planning on having a baby, too—but by freezing an embryo. 

“Congratulations,” you told the two of them, though Shiv didn’t look all that happy.

Roman chortled and made a few jokes about how Tom would have to poop out his own baby, and you nudged him harshly. 

“That’ll be your niece or nephew, you know. Just don’t be that weird, creepy uncle they avoid at family gatherings.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Roman whistled, though he fell silent when Gerri strode up to the three of you.

It was just as you thought. She’d heard Logan and Matsson were meeting with financiers—which meant Logan was going through with the flipped deal. GoJo swallows Waystar, Logan leaves with his pockets full, and everybody aboard the sinking ship is left to fend for themselves. 

“Why would Matsson need financing for an all-stock deal?” Shiv asked, though she was beginning to get an inkling of what was truly happening on her own.

Gerri suggested splitting up to cover more ground. Roman would get Kerry, Shiv handled Marcia, Gerri tackled Frank, and you were left to call in a few of Roman’s lawyers to see if they could rifle through anything that could block Logan from plowing into GoJo full-steam.

“I think Frank and Karl are in Europe,” Roman told Shiv, his phone pressed to his ear. “It’s got the fucking Euro ring.”

“What?” Shiv demanded. “Rome—are we being fucked right now?”

Roman hung up once Karl lied straight through his teeth that he was in America. Just before, he’d seen Gerri and Kerry speaking to each other in hushed tones, before Gerri quickly walked away. Was Gerri knifing him, too?

He turned to stare at you, speaking to his lawyers on the phone about voting power for the next CEO.

“Okay, well, I should probably tell you,” Roman said, scratching at the back of his head. “Matsson did float, just as an idea, that maybe they’d buy us.”

There was a momentary pause. Shiv’s eyes flared wider, her lips pinching tight. “Right. And what did Dad say?”

Roman shrugged. “Fuck off!” he said, in his best Logan imitation.

“Mhm. And he stuck around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Abruptly, Shiv shoved him so hard that Roman stumbled back into a table. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this earlier?” She stomped off then, making her way to Kendall, moping by the edges of the gardens.

You hung up the phone, walking back to Roman. “Dead ends. They’re going to have to look through fucking everything—signing heir contracts, settlement conditions, the divorce clauses. Might be something there that gives the three of you a hand on the steering wheel.”

“Great.” Roman sucked at his teeth, hesitant. “Hey, as it turns out, I don’t think I can trust Gerri.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and—I can trust you, right?” He scuffed the grass with the heel of his expensive boot, anxious.

The two of you stared at each other for a long moment. Man and woman, microphone and stand, dog and chew toy. You ran your tongue along the back of your teeth. 

“I love you, Roman. You know that,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Yeah. I trust you.”

“Hurry the fuck up!” Shiv yelled, startling the two of you away from each other. She began making her way around the building, towards the deserted back, where nobody was around to hear what the four of you were discussing. Slow on her heels was Kendall, dragging his feet along glumly.

You and Roman were only barely able to exchange comforting glances, before hastening after her.

“Okay, so—Dad is doing us dirty, right?” Shiv said, a tad too loud for your comfort, seeing as there were wedding guests only around the corner.

“Can you not make it a whole thing?” Roman protested, nose wrinkling. “We actually don’t—we don’t know anything yet. Matsson pitched to Dad the idea of them eating us, but I think he was just flying a kite.”

“Financing wouldn’t be there if it was just Matsson jerking off. Karl and Frank wouldn’t have bothered unless it was real. You know that, Roman,” you said.

The man merely raised his tense shoulders, kicking at a rock on the sandy ground. “Dad kind of shut it down,” he replied.

“He kind of shut it down?” pressed Shiv. “A moment ago, you were telling me that he told you to fuck off!”

Frowning, Roman told his sister, “Well, I didn’t keep track of the exact number of expletives he used, Siobhan. Okay? I’m not a fuckometer.”

There was a crackling silence for a few seconds. Kendall wasn’t facing the three of you, opting to stare away into the distance, hands propped on his hips. 

“Our market caps have tipped,” Shiv vehemently put forth. “The local town’s been bought out by a new set of advisors. Something has flipped!”

It was clear that Roman was the only one still clinging onto his father’s leg. He watched you and Shiv with scrutinizing eyes. “Dad would never sell, would he? Hey, asshole, Dad would never sell, right?” Roman directed the question to Kendall.

Kendall’s shoulders moved just a tiny bit, barely a twitch. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

“I see him doing it if the buy-out settlement is large enough,” you said, expression grim. “A handful of billions in his pocket, and he’d walk off satisfied.”

“But Dad… he…” Roman itched at the back of his head. “What about us?”

“Okay, yeah, the question is—would we get fucking protection?” Shiv demanded, as if the three of you had answers to give her.

Kendall looked up at the bright Italian sun. He was feeling thirsty.

“Can you guys just do this without me?” he asked, voice dejected. “I can’t—I don’t really wanna get into it.”

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Shiv hurled out an accusation, “Wait a minute, Ken. Do you—you have an angle on this? Are you speaking with Matsson?”

Kendall laughed. He paused for a second, thinking on Shiv’s words some more, before laughing again. Then, he sank to the sandy ground. There were sharp rocks poking his legs, a fine layer of dust coating his ass and the back of his thighs.

“Is he okay?” you whispered to Roman, who just shook his head and murmured something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath.

“Ken, can we just talk?” Shiv asked. 

“Shiv, I’m not here,” he said. His knees pulled up to his chest, and his head rested upon them.

He wasn’t okay, that was plainly clear. Tentative, you took a step forward, exchanging uneasy glances with Shiv. The redhead crouched down and soothed a comforting hand over her older brother’s back. You kneeled in front of Kendall, uncaring of how dirty you were getting your pants. Lingering a little farther back was Roman, stressed out of his mind, studying the three of you contemplatively.

“Hey, you okay?” Her voice was far more soft this time around.

Kendall shook his head, a heavy exhale slipping past his slightly-chapped lips. The familiar sting of salt welcomed the corners of his eyes. 

“Talk to us, Ken,” you said, your shoe nudging his. 

His mouth trembled. “There’s something really wrong with me. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“Uh, well… it’s okay, Ken…” Unsure, Shiv looked up to you. 

“I just—I’m not feeling very connected to my children or my endeavors right now. And, uh, I can’t get one thing right with another, you know?” His voice broke near the end. A warble, a shake, a lilt.

Roman stepped closer. To anyone who didn’t quite know him, he looked as if he was angry. But you knew—you knew that that was concern splayed across his features. He was worried for his big brother.

“Kendall, we can get you help,” you tried to reassuringly say.

“But I can’t,” he replied, on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what happened. I tried to do something. I tried, I really did. Really.”

For better or worse, Roman attempted to diffuse the tension by saying, “I know, man. You fucked it.”

You and Shiv glared at him, while Kendall merely laughed. It was painful and grating. His throat ached.

“I took a shot, but it’s like it didn’t matter,” he said.

“It’s just business, okay?” Roman told him, trying to downplay the situation. “We’re all fucked. Everything just sort of got… mixed up.”

When Shiv stood up, her legs aching, Kendall’s eyes slid shut. “I thought I had an out. I could see it—I could see the way markers, and I thought I could, out of all our shit, I thought I could take us all out of it. I tried, guys. I did.”

Roman hummed. Shiv stayed silent. You watched him, pensive. 

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I’m not a good person.”

“Well, whatever,” Roman said, miffed. “You’re… fine.”

“I’m… I’m bad.”

A few tense, sparse chuckles. Roman shot you a confused look, as if to say, is he for real?

“Lighten up, glum-glum,” Rome said.

Kendall blinked down at the sand. “I killed a kid.”

“Hm?”

“What?” you quietly asked. What was he talking about?

Shiv laughed a bit, wondering if this was all an elaborate joke. After all, it was hard to take anything Kendall did seriously after his disaster of a birthday party.

“I killed a kid,” Kendall repeated.

“Like… metaphorically?” you queried.

“No, I… I killed a kid. And, yeah, they’re… they’re coming for me. They’re gonna come for me.”

Your mouth fell open and shut, shocked and uncertain of what to do, what to say.

“Is this—?” Shiv looked around wildly. “Is this real? What the fuck?”

There was a sharp inhale. A warm breeze blew by, and Kendall found himself swallowing around what felt like dust. Glass shards. All the same.

“At your wedding,” he said.

“What?” Shiv asked, voice hardened.

“Horseshit,” said Roman, though he knew it, deep down, none of it was horseshit.

Rapidly, Kendall blinked. “The kid. That kid.”

“Uh, you mean the… the waiter kid?” Shiv clarified. 

A soft, nearly horrified exhale slipped from you. “That was you?” you asked, voice much smaller than it had been only minutes ago. 

“I was high,” he began to explain, miserable. “I was trying to score, and I was drunk, I was fucked up, and I drove. He saw something and he snatched at the wheel. We went into the water.” His voice trembled. “And then I left him in there and I ran.”

“Uhm, okay, we gotta… we gotta get you inside,” Shiv started, but Kendall’s shoulders began to shake.

His head lowered further. “It’s fucking lonely,” he quietly sobbed. A tear fell down his cheek, slipping into his mouth. “I’m all apart.”

You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you reached out and kept a steady grip on one of his knees. It grounded him, in a way, because his sobs seemed to dullen after a few seconds.

“I mean, if it pleases the court,” Roman began to say, which made your stomach roil in fear of what other abrasive comment he might spit out, “it sounds like you didn’t really kill him. Sounds to me like… he killed him.”

Your brows cinched. Kendall ran away from the kid and drove under the influence, which made him largely at fault. But you also knew it wasn’t… wholly on his shoulders. It was an accident, first and foremost. Besides—what choice did he have than to keep quiet, with his tail pressed beneath Logan’s thumb? 

“Rome, I’m a piece of shit, man,” Kendall sniffled, shaking his head. 

“The road and the water killed him,” offered Roman. “That’s what it sounds like.”

“What he’s trying to say,” you interjected, voice slow and placating. “Is that it was an accident.”

“Yeah, seriously. You crashed, and then, what? You ran?”

“No, I mean… I tried to get him. I dived a few times.”

Roman spread his arms out a bit. “See? That… that sounds like the story of a hero to me. That’s more than I would’ve fucking done. Seriously, I would’ve been out of that water like a tabby cat from a bath.”

Pained laughs from Kendall filled in the space between the four of you, which dissolved into cries. “Don’t, man. I’m… I’m a killer.”

Scoffing, Roman groaned out, “Fuck you. Come on, bullshit. At worst you’re an… a fucking irresponsibler. Okay? You’re bigging yourself up.”

“I don’t know, you guys,” Kendall hiccupped. “I’m blown into a million pieces.”

“Okay, uhm, we gotta get you out of here,” Shiv said, rubbing his shoulder. 

“We could bring him back to the chapel,” Roman offered. “Stuff him into a confessional. That might fix him.”

It was then that your phone started ringing, the lawyers calling you back. You gently apologized to the siblings, before stepping away and answering. Not long after you, Shiv’s phone began to ring with Laird’s caller ID, and she pulled off, as well. Leaving just the two brothers.

Roman sank down to sit beside him. He tried, and failed, to comfort him. But he succeeded, too. Somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Kendall croaked.

Wincing, Roman said, “You know, one waiter down makes a bit more sense. Took me forever to get a fucking drink at that wedding.”

“Please, man, I can’t—”

“Yeah, no, I’m just saying. Who’s the real victim here, you know? I waited three quarters of an hour for a gin and tonic.”

Both you and Shiv hung up your calls at the same time, making your way back to the brothers.

“You first,” you told Shiv. “What’s Laird know?”

She nodded. “He was inside the deal, then got cucked out of the lead. He’s bitter and bleating. GoJo buys Waystar. They pay a premium, Dad cashes out—cash and stock, maybe a title and a few assets, but it’s Matsson’s fucking board.”

“Can we trust that? Is that even real? Laird is a fucking prick. I know this—I was stuck as a hostage with him pissing buckets next to me,” Roman spat.

“Look, Kendall, I know you’re in a tough spot right now, but we have to talk about this now. I’ll call the car. Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” Shiv said. 

The eldest of the four burst into another raucous sob. Roman got up from the ground and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders, squeezing. Shiv palmed his buzzed head. You took your previous spot, crouching down in front of him and patted his kneecaps.

No more words were exchanged about the accident. It was time for war.

“What’s your news?” Roman asked. “My lawyers?”

You offered them a small, bitter smile. “There might be a gun in this knife-fight.”

In the car, you explained to them how the lawyers had found a clause in the extensive divorce settlement between Logan and Caroline: the kids would have veto power to any changes in company control.

If all the kids objected, there was legally no way Matsson could buy Waystar. 

The siblings were reunited on the same side for the first time in what felt like decades. Despite this, Roman still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal. 

“These are still all just rumors,” he said from beside you. “So I’ll have to talk to Dad alone first.”

Indignant, Shiv scoffed. “You think you’re close to him? You’re just his little rat fucker.”

“I’m just saying, as a matter of fact, that Dad and I have been working closely lately and I don’t want to go in too aggressive,” he heatedly defended. “I’m not busting in there crying Team Shiv, okay? We don’t know how this is going to play out yet.”

“You think Dad is protecting you?” Shiv hissed. “No, we let Matsson take control, that is Dad slamming the door! It means he doesn’t think that we will, can, or should take over.”

“All this time he’s spent braying about family,” you whispered, staring out at the rolling Italian fields flashing past. “And he’s the one who drives the knife in.”

Roman bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I just don’t think we should be aggressive. Can we even actually stop him with this one clause?”

“Yes,” Kendall said. “A change of control needs a super majority in the holding company. He’d need us to agree to it.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Just one of you, it wouldn’t work. That’s why he wasn’t threatened when it was just Kendall. The three of you, though… that’s the golden goose.”

Roman nodded, uncertain. “Right, well. I’m not sure I want to pull a move like that. Maybe I just… I stick with what I got.” He looked at you, expecting your support on this, but you pointedly pursed your lips.

Shiv gritted her jaw. “Which is what, exactly? A hard drive full of dick pics you send Y/N? Where exactly do you think we fit on Matsson’s new org chart, Rome?”

In a calmer voice, Kendall said, “He’ll gut you like a pig, Rome.”

Roman’s brows knitted together. 

“Rome, you know Dad is never going to choose you because he thinks there’s something wrong with you,” Shiv said. “I’m sorry, but maybe it’s time we said these things to each other. Instead of just airing it out to Vanity Fair.”

There was a roll of his eyes, but you could tell that her words hit close to home. A home he never felt safe in, perhaps.

“Hey, Rome,” you said, taking his hand, uncaring that Shiv and Kendall were there to see. They’ve seen far worse, after all, and you were nearly certain they already knew what was going on between the two of you. “You might not have a place beneath Matsson. You know that, right? And… and neither would I, I don’t think.”

This seemed to tip the scales over for him. The thought of not having the company to keep you close by his side anymore—to tether you to him—made him far more scared than he cared to admit.

Finally, Roman tentatively broached, “The holding company move… if we do that, that’s real?”

“He can’t sanction a deal without us. That’s legal fact,” Kendall said. “Block him and he’s fucked.”

With an air of finality, Shiv said, “Okay, we just rip the band-aid right off. Push him out. Get him on his own, say it was his urinary tract at the shareholder meeting—say he’s out of it. He’s fucking a twenty year old, and he’s planning for babies in jars. He’s gone loopy, and he’s tried to sell the shop while fucking his assistant. If we tell the board all that, he’s toast.”

“Burnt,” you agreed.

“Full coup,” Kendall said.

“Yeah. We have, say, Ken, chair? Rome or me, CEO? The other, COO, or whatever they want—studios, movies, TV. Equal.” There was a hopeful glint to her eyes. “Y/N takes CFO, maybe director of operations, maybe president of relations. Whichever floats your boat.”

You were quite happy with your quaint little title as general branch manager, but you nodded along to Shiv’s words, not wanting to argue with semantics. 

“Okay, but really equal. Like, actual equal. If we do this, I don’t want you two cunts trying to big-brother me out of my fucking piece, okay? And I want the dick pic stuff with Y/N cleared. We do shit like that. We like each other, alright? Deal with it.”

Shiv eyed you warily, but found herself in no position to turn him down, especially not with him in such a precarious position. You shot Roman a flattered smile, squeezing his hand. This was the most open Roman’s been about his relationship with you… ever.

“We can fight all the details out,” Shiv reassured. “It’ll… it’ll be fun.”

The siblings laughed, genuine and chesty. 

“Oh, fuck,” Roman breathed out. For a second, it seemed like his eyes seemed to glass over, but it was gone with his next blink. “I do think that, even though this literally makes me want to vomit and I wanna kill you both every day and it’s all going to end horribly… I do think that we—puke—could make a pretty good team.”

“So how do we feel about killing Dad?” Shiv asked.

Kendall smiled. “Pass me the fucking shotgun.”

By the time the four of you reached Logan, the sun had only barely set, and a heavy sort of darkness started stealing away the clouds. The rooms were full to the brim and bustling about with a frantic atmosphere. Lawyers and financiers and other powerful figures from the companies flitting to and fro.

Logan, however, was in a separate room. Empty, save for the few people at the very top. 

He called for the four of you to come in, all false smiles and honeyed tones.

“Hey. Hi, everyone,” Roman greeted, high-strung. “We’re just feeling a little out of the loop, Dad.”

“Oh, of course. Things have moved very fast, yes. Sit down, all of you.”

None of you sat down, but Roman stood across the table from his dad. “So, yeah, we’re, uh… we’re hearing some rumors about GoJo?”

“We heard that we might be the target now,” Shiv said in a far colder tone in comparison to her brother. “Is that right, Dad?”

Logan nodded once. “Okay. I’ve been looking at a few options.”

“Right. We might be affected with our positions, so we just wanted to get some clarity,” Shiv said.

A harsh glare was sent in Kendall’s direction. “Absolutely, but do you mind not with him in here giving me the fucking doggy-evils? Can you take him out, Romulus? I’ll fill in your sister and give you the angles.” Logan gestured vaguely at his second-eldest son. “I don’t trust him.”

Roman swallowed uneasily, unmoving.

Logan stared at him expectantly. “Roman?”

“You can tell us together, Dad,” Kendall said.

“I thought we had this figured out,” Logan deadpanned, fixing his angry glare onto Roman instead of Kendall.

Five different emotions seemed to flash across Roman’s face at once. “Yeah, no, we just… it might be better. If all of us heard.”

A steady breath. Finally, Logan acquiesced. “Okay. The market capitalizations of our firm have been on the move. Ours is a declining business. There’s a wave of consolidations happening, and that means this is the optimal moment, in my opinion, to make a deal with a serious tech operation like GoJo. That’s what I’ve been exploring, okay?”

Shiv stiffly put forth, “Okay, so, I would like to say, on behalf of all of us, can you ease up and let us in? Stop this until we see how exactly we’re impacted?”

“No, it has to be now,” Logan said.

“An hour to negotiate positions wouldn’t hurt,” you said, far icier than you were anticipating to be. 

Logan leveled his gaze with you, simultaneously curious and angry. “Aren’t you supposed to be fired? Or did Romulus have the balls to fucking sever things?”

You reared back a step, teeth gritted. Roman sucked in a cold breath.

“Why does it have to be now?” Shiv demanded.

“Because I can feel it in my bones,” said Logan. “And, at the end of the day, it’s all I fucking got.”

Shiv angrily narrowed her eyes. “Well, you know that’s bullshit.”

“Look, this is the best moment to sell. If I don’t do the best deal at any given point, what’s the point of anything? I don’t get out, I leave five billion on the table,” the father explained. 

“Come on, Dad. What are you gonna do with the five bil?” Kendall prodded. “Huh? Put it on your pile with all your other fucking bil?”

Logan frowned and nodded. “Mhm. Probably.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Kendall asked.

“Make your own fucking pile,” hissed Logan. Then, after taking a pause to collect himself, Logan continued, “I know this is an adjustment, but our blood’s in the water and I need to make moves fast in order to control the situation and get myself and all of you assurances in the future.”

“Assurances?” Shiv echoed. “Once Matsson is calling the shots, we’re fucked!”

A dismissive wave of his hand. “No, nah. He rates you. And this is an opportunity for you kids to get an education in real life.”

“With you at the top, we can take over, but without you, we’re fucked,” Shiv said. The brothers stood side by side, quiet.

Abruptly, Logan stood up from his seat. “Come on, Roman. Let’s get away from these Jacobins. I’ve got you. We can discuss this.” Roman looked to you, and Logan clocked the exchange. “Y/N, my dear. We’ll work you in, of course. You are such a valuable asset to the company. The glue, as I recall all the papers we publish calling you.”

You stepped closer to Roman, putting a hand on his elbow.

This spurred him into saying, “Hey, look, Dad, I know what Matsson said, I was there. But, uhm, with Matsson calling the shots, we’re… we’re strung up in the town square.”

“No!” Logan asserted, making his way closer, standing less than an arm’s length away from Roman. “He likes you! You have my word. This is an opportunity son. A bit of fucking grit. Adversity, like me. You can trust me.”

These days, Logan Roy’s word seemed to mean very little. It was his money that held the power.

“You can’t trust him,” Shiv said, voice straining.

Roman’s hands shook. “Uhm…” His voice went all soft, almost a husky whisper. “We’re here to say, to ask, please… do not do this.”

Logan tilted his head. “And what if I decide not to listen to you?”

“We can stop you,” Shiv said. “And we will. Blow this up.”

“Kids have voting power over company control,” you told your godfather. “From the divorce.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shiv. “You need all of us. You need a super majority, and we can kill it.”

This time, Logan yelled, voice bellowing. “You’re playing toy fucking soldiers!” Roman flinched back into you, and you rubbed your thumb along the inside of his forearm. “Go on! Fuck off, all of you! I have you beat! You f—morons!”

Nose twitching with contempt, Shiv protested, “Well, no, because you need a super majority—”

Logan roared out a mocking imitation of Shiv’s voice, somehow still terrifying. He sighed then, pulling a hand over his weary features. He turned, asking Kerry something. Something you didn’t quite catch.

Then a phone was being pulled out, and you heard Caroline’s voice crackling through the line.

A heavy pit sunk down your stomach. It clicked for you before it clicked for the siblings—mostly because they were probably in such heavy denial.

Caroline had renegotiated the divorce agreement, effectively robbing the children of their say. Their voices. All three of their faces fell, crestfallen, as the weight of the realization slammed into them.

Shiv seemed the angriest of them, muttering expletives and yelling angrily at her mother through the phone. Caroline apologized, saying it was for the best, but she wouldn’t hear a single word of it. The call was hung up a second later.

“Dad,” Roman said, disrupting the eerie, tense silence. “Please?”

He was a child asking for a dog again. He was a teenager asking to come home from military school again. He was a young adult asking for his dad to stop hitting him again.

“Please?” Logan parroted, almost disbelieving. 

“Please,” he repeated, voice breaking.

“The seat sniffer gets a fucking leg up,” his father scoffed. “That’s a deal. What have you got in your fucking deck?”

“What have I got?” Roman asked. He reached back so the hand you had rested on his elbow laced with his. “I don’t know. Fucking… fucking love?”

When Logan repeated that word—love—it sounded so childish on his tongue. So frivolous and fanciful, as if it couldn’t possibly exist.

“You come for me… with love? You bust in here, guns in hand, and now you find they’ve turned into fucking sausages. You talk about love?” He worked a hand over his jaw. “You should’ve trusted me.”

Tears filled Roman’s eyes. “Dad, why?”

“Why?” Logan swept his gaze over his children, his goddaughter. “Because it works. I fucking win. 

A beat of unbearable silence. Your nose stung, a familiar sensation.

“Go on, go on. Fuck off. You nosy fucking pedestrians.”

A wave of nausea rolled over Roman. He called out for his father as Logan stormed off, disappearing behind the doors. Then, he rushed over to ask Gerri to help them out, as Shiv stressed on who had tipped Logan off that they were on their way to see him.

Gerri dismissed Roman, brushing him off as if he were a bread crumb on her jacket. Tom arrived then, asking if his wife was okay. Shiv seemed to piece something together that you didn’t quite understand yet.

Roman sank to the ground, and Kendall put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, just as Roman did for him hours ago. You sat down beside him, your side pressed up against his.

“I want to go home,” Roman muttered. “This was all for nothing. It meant nothing.”

“Okay, Rome,” you whispered in return. “We’ll go home.”

[ro-is-struggling]

Fireproof Series Masterlist || Johnny Storm x Reader

disclaimer: the pictures above are purely for aesthetic purposes and do not represent the physical appearance of the reader

Series summary: you and Johnny weren't supposed to get along. You were the exact opposite of each other. While he was loud and outgoing, you were quiet and introverted. He loved to be the center of attention and you actively made efforts not to be. He had made a name for himself as one of the biggest players on campus while you stood out for your academic achievements. You hated guys like Johnny, and he had no reason to associate with people like you since you rarely shared spaces. And yet, against all odds, you were able to forge a solid friendship. In fact it was the contrast that made the two of you work so well. You called out his bullshit and he pointed out yours. You were a good influence on each other, no one could deny that. It was a perfect relationship, you knew all the bad things about each other and still chose one another....

But what happens when romantic feelings start to flourish?

This series is a collection of one shots that will give you a glimpse inside Johnny and y/n's complicated relationship.

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, fluff, lots of cliches (like seriously, I was kinda playing the game of how many cliches can I put in the same story? lol) 2000s teen flick/ rom com coded (so I guess it’s a bit cheesy? read at your own risk!), FEMALE READER

This fic starts a bit before the events of the first Fantastic Four movie, when reader and Johnny are in college (but it gets to the movies don’t worry!)

English is not my first language

Author’s Note: I recently rewatched the old Fantastic Four movies and I had so much fun I just had to write something for Johnny. Yes it's terrible plot wise but I love the early 2000s vibes of it. So I tried to keep a bit if that vibe with very overused tropes/scenes and stereotypical characters (yk like the annoying popular girl, the playful fuck boy love interest with a heart of gold and the ‘I'm not like other girls’ main character). I have a soft spot for those kinds of stories and I thought Johnny was perfect for it! I tried to keep a balance as to not make it too over the top, I hope I did a good job

The idea for this fic is to make a sort of collection of separate one-shots that show different moments in Johnny and reader’s relationship, if that makes sense. I have most of the story planned and written, but it is not completely closed. What do I mean by that? That I have a beginning, conflict and ending thought out, but that doesn't mean that once I post those parts the story is over. 

I'm structuring this fic more as plot points than anything else (i.e. how they meet, when they have their first kiss, what the big love confession is like, stuff like that). Beause of that, there are parts of the timeline of the relationship that aren't shown. And that leaves me time to imagine a lot of things, if that makes sense? So if I have a random idea about a silly thing that happens between them in the middle of "the plot" (or if you guys think of something!), I can add it and expand the context without changing the whole story.

ALL PUBLISHED PARTS:

Part 1: First Impressions

Part 2: {COMING SOON}

[always-andromeda]

⋆｡˚୨ 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃' 𝒱𝒾𝒹𝑒𝑜 𝒢𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 ୧˚｡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1039

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ You spend a quiet moment showing Abby your Animal Crossing island; a testament to your love for Sanrio characters and your favorite girl.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ on my old sideblog, my sweet Saia requested that I write something with Abby involving Animal Crossing. buuuut, since I've deleted that blog, I thought I'd repost it here! I've made some little edits so it's a bit longer than before; but here it is in all its glory again! this one is entirely dedicated to you, @abbysdolly; thank you for being so lovely and so supportive, dear. I hope you enjoy this again!! alsoooo, divider credits go to @cafekitsune!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ minor swearing, absolute tooth rotting fluff, nothing else I can think of!

"Fuckin' video games..." Abby spoke under her breath as she fiddled with the controls of her switch. She'd only had it for a few days (thanks to some gentle persuasion from you) but she was already moments away from giving up on it completely.

"What's wrong?" you leaned over from your spot on the couch. Her character now stood blankly in front of her starter tent. You rested your chin on her shoulder, breathing in the pine scent that felt like home to you by now as you tried to see what the problem was.

"There was a scorpion and he just–"

Realizing her plight, you giggled, "Stung you?"

Abby set the console down and reclined back on the couch, taking a deep breath. "How did you get so good at this in the first place?"

"I dunno," you hummed. "You just gotta work on it."

Of course. As much as Abby fancied herself an expert at all things, part of her was alright with taking the loss on this one; especially knowing how happy you got when you finally got to best her at something. You could have this one.

Abby rolled her eyes and continued, "Ah, it's whatever. Show me what you've got on your island, babe." 

Your eyes lit up and a smile bloomed across your face. Letting out a chuckle of her own, Abby swore she'd never get sick of that expression. You picked your own console back up and snuggled closer into her side.

Immediately your fingers flew, maneuvering your character around the screen. Abby smirked, catching a glimpse of the pink bunny that decorated the skin of your console. She never had a single clue how she managed to land a delicate thing like you. It always made her a little afraid of breaking you; something she didn’t worry about with most. She was abrasive and proud of it. But not with you. Never with you. She hooked a strong arm around your frame and pulled you closer.

"The first thing I have to show you..." you trailed off as your character disappeared inside of a pastel pink house. The main room of your house was thoroughly decorated with polka dot wallpaper and white wood floors. Pastel couches and a white coffee table with a decorative cake and tea set on top constituted your home’s living room. Underneath it all, a fluffy looking rug tied the whole soft atmosphere. Except…it didn’t look like any old carpet. It was a picture of some sort of cartoon character tucked inside a bright blue teacup.

Abby squinted. "Who's on the rug?"

You looked up at her, "I've told you about the characters, Bee. Guess."

Noticing the long ears on the character, she spitballed, "Isn't that the bunny? MyMelody?"

"Nooo..." you whined and tapped the decal on your switch. "That's MyMelody. The rug is Cinnamoroll. And he's a puppy, not a bunny."

Abby scoffed, "Well, sounds like I've gotta do more studying."

"Yeah," you replied matter of factly with a glint of pride in your eye, "you really do."

As soon as you showed her around your house, you then graduated to running around your island. You'd sunk hundreds of hours into the game and it showed, considering every nook was themed and immaculately adorned with various trees, bushes, and flowers. She couldn’t help but be a little jealous. It wasn’t fair that these little virtual creatures could live in a paradise, entirely hand crafted by you. That sounded like a dream to her.

"So, this is Toby," you introduced her to a yellow rabbit with big eyes and teal hair. "He's part of the Sanrio set of characters. I'm trying to collect them all."

"Now, that is a bunny. It has to be. Geez, how many bunnies does this brand have?" she grumbled.

You giggled again, "Yes, he's a bunny. But he's based off of Keroppi," you added with a pointed glance in her direction, obviously expecting her to fill in the blank.

Now this is one Abby knew. She blurted out, "The frog!"

"Good job, Bee," you smiled proudly.

"Eh, it's no big deal," she brushed you off with a teasing look that told you she was playing her humility up. She had to preserve some respectability.

Then she watched as your character ran over to a secluded piece of land that looked over the ocean. The sun was setting over your island paradise as your character plopped down on an iron bench. Cut off from the rest of the island by a thick layer of trees, this area was quiet. The normally upbeat music subsided so you and her could clearly hear the wind blowing and the waves crashing. It was strangely kind of…calming.

"This spot is nice," Abby mumbled.

"I made it for us,” you replied quietly.

"For us?"

Your gaze was especially sentimental when you answered, "Yeah! So when you finally visit my island, we'll have a place to sit and watch the ocean."

Abby blinked vacantly. "You know...we can totally do that now too...in real life?"

You chewed on your lip as you watched the screen. "I mean, yeah. Of course. But I want to sit with you and watch the sunset virtually too."

Abby was quiet, thinking about all the hours you put into this endeavor. How patient you had been, sharing all of the things you loved with her. God…how had she been lucky enough to find you again? 

Finally, she spoke, "Ya know...maybe I won't quit the game just yet. At least not until I get to sit on the bench with you...virtually..."

"You're such a goober," you smiled, laid your head back on her chest, and hopped off the bench in game so you could keep showing her around.

Her emotions weren’t showing up too visibly on her face. But she was undoubtedly and thoroughly impressed. For one, she was amazed at your eye for design and the way you coordinated everything without making it look too uptight and proper. Your island felt comfortable, just like how you made her feel. And more than anything, she was happy that it was a kind of comfort you always wanted her to be involved with.

[fallenclan]

Related to FallenClan designs! All your designs are super amazing, what’s your simplifying process/how do you decide design for cat pelts? Cause I always struggle with simplifying/deciding how they look especially bengals and cats with white patches… thanks if you respond!

I’m ADHD and struggle with consistency and simplifying lol, though more complex designs are pretty, I lean more towards what you do w/ you’re cats as they are simple but still super pretty + it makes it easier to consistently draw them all for stuff like this! (These comic like moon updates :])

(Also hope none of this came off as offensive, it’s all meant positively! I really really admire you and your designs :])

ty for the compliments!!! very sweet ask and I shall do my best to give a good response o7

generally my method with designing characters/drawing is to just wing it. fuck it we ball basically. but i DO take a lot of inspiration from other people's warriors art, taking the time to analyze what i like about their styles and what different sorts of patterns i can use

(i also regularly consult the Clangen Sprite Guide for better looks at white patches/tortie patterns and such, highly recommend)

the first thing i decide when i'm designing a new cat is what fur texture i want them to have. i have four that I pick from (pictured below, in order), wavy, spiky, curly, and square.

i decide the fur pattern based on the cat's personality (a more stoic cat might have square fur, while someone more bubbly might have curly, or someone more excitable have spiky, so on and so on), and also based on their parents/how many cats i've designed with that fur pattern recently.

after that is snout shape, which is probably my favorite part. i love to draw cats with a very pronounced snout, not unlike an oriental shorthair, but i generally slide around between that and a more typical, stubby snout, occasionally veering off into the very square snout of a maine coon. this is also a great spot to determine how sharp you want their jaw to be, which is something that can really help set a design apart! (a couple of snout examples below)

then i usually move onto colors. i like to pick an undertone for the cat first, so i know what sort of pallate to work with. as you can see in the pictures below, ravenstar has a purple/blue undertone, and toadbelly has orange/red undertones

this helps me make all the colors look nicer together, so i don't end up doing something like making a very warm colored cat with blue-toned white patches (which would make the white patches look super cold/too bright), which can be a really cool stylistic choice, but isnt what i tend to go for

once i've drawn out the cats fur shape and picked my colors, i'll move onto the base coat. over my time of having the fallenclan blog i've discovered that having a very simple pattern underneath the normal pattern can add a lot of visual interest to a cat, and make them look less plain.

here's a good example! one of the first cats i designed, oaktuft. their pattern was super basic--one base color, plus the inside of the ears, and then the color of their patterns.

and here's another cat that i designed a little more recently--Shiverspots! you can see that even just the small change of adding a bit of a lighter color to her underbelly made a world off difference. plus my style got a lot more defined lol

i have a couple of different base patterns that i use. here's a few more examples. i've even started to experiment with more than two colors!

once i've got the base done i move onto patterns. this part can definitely be tricky; trying to make a dozen brown tabbies with short fur be distinct can be . a challenge. i like to follow the steps of what i've already designed--a cat with spiky fur might have very sharp, angular stripes, and a cat with curly fur might have much rounder ones.

i think a good rule of thumb for if your pattern feels a little too basic is just to throw some more colors in there. another shade of orange, a more pale tint to some of them, whatever. and don't be afraid to erase it and start again! sometimes a design just won't work, and thats fine :)

the final thing i do is to add little design quirks. a particularly sharp jawline, downturned eyes, a crooked smile or a gap tooth, whatever! little things can really give your cats character.

i really hope that this helped!!!

[moonlit-escape]

. ☠︎︎.˖⚝๋࣭⭑ֶָ֢♱ Gene Mystreet headcanons !!

my third and final favourite mystreet character. he's so silly i need to beat his ass

bisexual (it runs in the family. their mom is bi too)

the eyebags aren't just bc he's has a god awful sleep schedule, they're actually hereditary (dante covers his with cucumbers and a skincare routine)

only speaks in spanish when he's losing his shit (arguing, panicking, tripped and scraped his knee on the sidewalk)

god can that boy dance

honestly just really loves cats

he went through a rough patch in uni and it sort of gave him a major wake up call as to just how he was doing and what kind of person he was and wanted to be

he, zenix, and sasha went their separate ways during uni, but tried to keep mostly in touch until eventually coming back together as roomies

god he would have just. the Worst depression meals. bro eats macaroni cheese dust in a glass with milk like it's a fucking nesquik packet. takes apart oreos and eats all the cream off, then puts pieces of ham in between them like theyre goddamn lunchable crackers. makes mayonnaise and jello sandwiches. takis and sweet relish. sasha and zenix have to make sure they come home on time and cook something before he puts whatever fucking concoction he makes into his body.

but he's actually a pretty damn good cook (when he's Not in a depressive episode)

learned to read fairly quickly, so he would always read dante to sleep

HARD gifted kid burnout like my man crashed and burned at 16

but now he's just a silly little nerd

favourite ninja turtle is donatello (mainly bc his fav color is purple)

he likes anime a lot, honestly. especially from 1990 to 2000s

plays mihoyo games. his mains are, respectively; cyno (genshin), jing yuan (hsr), and anton (zenless). This is a meta joke.

piercings,,, pirericngs,,,,, yesssss ,.

typa guy to use kaomoji and cat emoticons and send you cat videos off of youtube

the only social media he has is tumblr and reddit his punkass doesnt fw any other

he'd probably get a tattoo. maybe for his sweet girl, Apple, the poor thing

wants another cat, but he wants to give sasha and zenix no other choice but to let him take one in, so he's up Praying a stray will find him and follow him home

*opens his wallet and an entire roll of dante's baby pictures fall out* "UHM- UH- FWUH- I WAS HOLDING THESE FOR MY MOM-" dante, travis, and aph tear up on the spot

was never that mean to travis, since he was dante's best friend, but he was never careful around him either, so

him and garroth actually end up being great friends who just spend most of their conversations gushing about mutual interests (their baby brothers, cats, video games) or sassing each other off

no wait bc why would his taste in men absolutely be himbos. (or at least just very sweet, kind-hearted people)

he calls people by specific little terms of endearment, depending on the type of response. that doesnt make sense. let me elaborate.

uses "babe" or "honey" when someone is in distress or upset ("oh, honey,,")

uses "bucko" or "buddy" when someone mouths off at him ("oookay there, buddy." "alright then, bucko.")

you get it now

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

i'm working on a new project that is (for once) not connected to any of my bigger original universes, so i thought i'd share some of the writing i have for it! taglist down below, feel free to take this opportunity to share your own wips (in a separate post of course) if you have any!! the first part is a sort of introduction to the story, from the perspective of main character marshall! the second part is a snippet from a scene much further into the story, to kind of paint a picture (for both you and myself lol) of what the setting and the tone of the story is gonna be like. it's a bit different writing than what you're used to from me so please take a moment to read the warnings first!! warnings >> blood, cult, death, implied cannibalism, gore, religion, violence

God won't speak to me.

He spoke to my sister when we were eleven, her howls echoing through the backyard of our childhood home as the venom of a wasp spread quickly through her veins.

He spoke to my mother the day we buried her oldest son, the hem of her alcohol-stained dress torn where it had caught on the thorns of a blackberry bush she had blankly passed through.

He spoke to my father the day he put the barrel of a .44 in his mouth, reenacting what he had classified a sin for all the wrong reasons, his trembling finger on the trigger strong enough to rip apart the last tendon holding our family together yet not to finish the job.

I was eighteen, when I was found on the river bank near Overture, Louisiana, the sharp end of a jagged knife plunged deep within my side and my bloodied hands clutching the cross necklace of my brother, my breathing akin to the ice cold shallow water grazing at my ankles as I stared up at the star-spotted sky with glazed over eyes, blue chapped lips shaped in the final hum of a prayer.

A black abyss stared back, a strained vacuum without comfort, leaving me with a plea unheard and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

And God did not answer.

'Gotta dig… Just gotta dig. Gotta get 'em out of there… Gotta take 'em home…'

The physical distance between Marshall and the grave did not muffle the continuous mumbling, the shaky voice of the young priest clear as day like a whisper directly in his ear as the eerie silence looming over the church's cemetery left him with not much else to focus on. He knew he should turn around and leave, at that hour of the night— get back in his car and return to Posey in the motel, get some sleep while he still could— yet curiosity held him tight within its grasp, and each step he took pushed him closer into the wrong direction.

'Just the bones… Just the bones…'

The man was hunched over, back turned towards Marshall and partially obscured by the few last rows of gravestones stood between the two of them. His neck twitched— a sudden and unexpected movement at an angle Marshall did not hold for possible, yet it had happened entirely too fast for him to clearly see.

'Hey, is everything alright?' he called out; well against his better judgment, hairs on his forearms standing up straight as his feet carried him another few inches closer to the priest.

And the closer he got, the more he wished he had listened to himself.

If he had just turned away, he wouldn't have had to notice the unusual and unplaceable noises bubbling up from the priest's direction. He wouldn't have had to realize the priest was sat next to a coffin, yet to be lowered into an undug grave. (A curious practice, but Marshall was not one to judge— Overture'd had to endure a rather tiresome series of curiosities as of late, and an unburied corpse in the middle of bumfuck Louisiana in the midst of a yet to be explained power cut would be the least of its problems.)

'Just the bones…. Gotta dig… Gotta bring 'em home.'

'Do you need help?' Marshall persistently asked, his voice muffled by the thrumming of his own heart in his eardrums while his eyes trailed over the coffin— splintered and shattered at the lid, the glimmer of the distant church lights barely enough to reveal the outline of an axe resting on the dirt at the priest's ankles.

'Have to do it, there's no other way. Gotta dig, gotta dig, gotta dig—'

'Hey!'

Marshall should have never stayed in town.

He realized that now, as the priest's obsessive muttering came to a sudden stop forcing Marshall to hold still too— yet he had already approached too closely, and realized that no dirt had been dug in at all, and realized that the priest's hands were instead stuck inside the coffin repeatedly plunging deeper and deeper into the rotting remains of the corpse inside, once white vestment covered in blood and gore and he stared up at Marshall with a faint glow in two milky white eyes and with a wide grin exposing bloodied and shattered teeth, much akin to a predator looking at its next prey.

'Just the bones,' he repeated, the nodding of his head nearly belittling— as if to convince Marshall this was how it was supposed to be, as if to convince him the Word of God was not to be neglected and his fate as a sinner was a gift to the Divine Light and as if to convince him as long as he would not struggle it would all be over soon.

'Gotta dig.'

Marshall could not move, lamb to the slaughter as the priest rose to his feet with the axe in his hand.

'Just the bones! Gotta take 'em home.'

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel

[vhstown]

hi guys shower thoughts in word form what's new 💀

why miles g is the perfect foil to miles — a long post

disclaimer: i obviously do NOT know what will happen in btsv. some of this devolves into external information like from the art book (or even just my own headcanons). i am also not an analyst. this is not a proper analysis by any means. also quite rambly so bare with me 😭

also i will be referring to 1610!miles as miles and 42!miles as miles g.

just so we're sure: a foil in literature is defined as "a character who is presented as a contrast to a second character so as to point to or show to advantage some aspect of the second character" (via britannica)

essentially one character exposes the flaw(s) of another character (usually by being the opposite of said character)

i talked about miles' attachment to the superficial goal of "being Spider-Man" in a separate post (which is long n kind of irrelevant so im not linking it here) but essentially the point i want to bring back is that 1610 miles is obsessed with the idea and IDENTITY of being New York's Spider-Man and being a hero and that is the complete opposite to miles g, who is arguably the PERFECT foil — it's literally a parallel version of himself

but first a bit of ramble about the start of the movie under the cut! (open)

you can see it in the way miles falls perfectly into the typical witty, effortless and loved hero in the way he fights at the start of the movie. when he's fighting the spot you're thrown into this false sense of security that everything's going to be okay and it's just another "villain of the week" because that's what you expect of Spider-Man. he has his usual quips and carefree interactions with the spot and we have no idea that he's about to take apart the entire multiverse

the spot as a character is one of my favourite villains EVER because he directly challenges this notion of what it means to be Spider-Man — you always expect the good guys to win and when they lose again and again to the spot, that's when everything we know, and MILES knows, falls apart. the spot is a brutal exposition of how futile "heroism" as a concept is to the spiderverse.

as a character miles so badly wants to be in the spider society in the first place because he thinks that's where it's at — that's where he can finally BE a real spiderman and fit in

so when all of his beliefs are challenged and he's forced to fight to SURVIVE rather than to win that's the turning point of his character. in the grand scheme of things to put it lightly this whole "spiderman" identity is bull

and also id like to point out that hobie's line of "im not a hero, cause calling your self a hero makes you a self-mythologising narcissistic autocrat" is SUCH a gut-punch when you realise this. my boy KNEW but miles had to realise it for himself obviously so he pissed off when he had nothing else to add. I LOVE HOBIE BRO—

in my other post i talked about how he attributes his security to his home universe, family and friends and then that changes to wanting to be a part the spider society (so security in his identity), but when he's kicked out, his main goals focus around his home universe again — he needs to save his dad

putting him in earth 42 is the final sort of way for the movie to say "look at yourself miles" because to him, he can't give up that want to be spiderman so easily. a part of him hopes that he can just go back home and be spiderman like normal, that's why he tells his "mom" (earth 42 rio) that he's spiderman even though that probably won't help him at all — he is still stagnant in his old ways

and thats where miles g comes in — picture his exact universe but where's miles is the "villain" (to him at least, he doesn't know that the prowler is actually a vigilante)

to give you the basics, miles g has NO super powers, he's a vigilante who has to HIDE from the public, he's not "friendly" — nothing like miles' picture of spiderman. again, he fights to do good, but also for survival — the sinister six are attacking HIS neighbourhood and HIS home so HE has to do something about it

of course that's not to say that they're completely different. miles g has all his cool gear and aesthetics for a reason. maybe deep down he wants to be like the superheroes that he sees in comics (assuming hes anything like 1610 miles) and/or he wants to live up to, or exceed his uncle in being the prowler

but it's far less superficial than just that. he's been forced into this more practical and REAL mindset about what it means to be a "hero" from the start — and now 1610 miles is too

miles g doesn't necessarily have a greater sense of duty. he doesn't concern himself with miles' universe because it's HIS — ("our dad—" "your dad.") and thats the reality check that miles needs, at least in this moment, that he's alone and that he needs to get the HELL out of there and save his dad — not the multiverse.

of course this might be a point of character development for miles g he's obviously not a perfect character and has his own trauma and backwards beliefs to overcome but he's in many ways a product of his environment

it re-emphasises to miles the importance of saving his dad — protecting what he has left because he has nothing else (his only sense of security anymore). the multiverse is this far away thing now and i think this could be explored as a spiteful rejection in btsv which he has to overcome but im obviously not sure

the real kicker is that in this universe aaron davis is alive and jefferson is dead. looking at this from a wider perspective, in my very convoluted opinion, on a surface level, JEFFERSON represents "the hero" and AARON represents "the villain". this is arguably why aaron "has to die" in earth 1610, because "good always prevails" (which is very clearly MESSED UP, which miles is coming to realise more and more)

okay now hear me out. in the SAME WAY miles represents "the hero" and miles g represents "the villain" — but we obviously know that it's more nuanced than that

and the respective fates of aaron and jeff clearly show to miles that it is NOT that simple. it's not a matter of "good over evil" because if that was the case his father wouldn't be dead.

and obviously thematically this ties into expectations of the future generation and overcoming archaic beliefs and failures of the past and hope in youth and blah blah blah (i actually love this theme it is just not talked about enough unfortunately but this video by elliot sang is a beautiful exploration of it)

miles g and aaron are NOT evil — they're just as much heroic, but not necessarily "heroes". again, that's exposing how superficial the notion of being "spiderman" and "a hero" really is

and this is why hobie is so right about labels and— (MUFFLED SCREAMING)

going back to the spider society when miles says "i thought we were supposed to be the good guys" — this idea of being a hero is really just a front for the spider society's lucrative and cult-like behaviour. you're doing it because it's your duty as a hero, you're letting people die because that's what's supposed to happen, because it's for the "greater good" (when it was never really about that in the first place but miguel and his "spider-cult" is a whole other topic)

by the end of the film we start to realise all of these things at once and that's what across the spiderverse does SO WELL in my opinion

so why is miles g the perfect foil to miles? to summarise, miles g encapsulates (at the very least on a surface level) the complete opposite of what it means to be the hero "Spider-Man". his entire universe is a parallel to earth 1610, and to miles, miles g exposes the flaws in miles' view about what heroism truly is.

neither of them are perfect characters, and we're yet to see much about miles g, but miles' development as a character and the way it's explored in such a self-realising way as well as thematically throughout all of across the spiderverse is something i will always love about the movie

im so excited to see if they'll team up as well!!!! so much potential

urrrrr thank you for coming to my ted talk ANYWAYS I LOVE HOBIE BROW— (THE CROWD BOOS) (SEVERAL TOMATOES ARE THROWN)

as always let me know your thoughts id SO love to hear them ^^ this was just a shower thought i was literally shampooing my hair and was like hold on a minute.... so there's definitely things to be added! take care n cya <3

[ghoulfriendfangs]

✧ APPRENTICEMBER ✧

I wanted to do something big for the Arcana community, something to bring us together! And why not make an event focusing on my favorite part of this community, our ocs and fan apprentices!

To participate, all you need to do is answer the daily question and tag your post with #apprenticember! There’s no pressure, no minimum word count, and you can skip days if you like!

Introduce your apprentice! Just their name, personality, appearance, and likes/dislikes for now! If you have pictures of them, post them today!

Who is their LI? What’s their relationship like?

Give a short summary of their relationship to the other main characters!

What about the couriers? Have they met them? What do they think of them?

Do they have any other friends outside of canon? What about the minor characters? 

Now, do they have any rivals? Maybe even a WORST ENEMY!? Spill the deets now!

Second week! Let’s go back to their physical description, but go even deeper! Do they have tattoos, piercings, scars, etc? What sort of clothes do they like?

Now let’s give their familiar the spotlight! Tell us all about them!

Do they have a patron arcana? Who is it? What’s their relationship like?

What is their relationship to the other arcana like?

Do they have a gateway? What does it look like? If they don’t have one, describe their ideal spot instead.

What does their home look like? Their room?

Can they cook? What’s their favorite meal?

What does their magic look/feel like?

What are they proudest of?

What’s their deepest insecurity?

Do they have any family, living or non living? List their family tree!

What were they like as a child?

If your mc fights, what is their fighting style? If they don’t, why not?

Remember the Valentines Day event where you could pick between 3 gifts to give the LI? What 3 gifts would you write for your mc?

Now what kind of gifts are they most likely to give?

What does your mc do to show their love?

What parts of Vesuvia is your mc most likely to be at?

Does your mc like parties, festivals, and masquerades? What do they do at them?

What’s your favorite thing about your mc?

How has your mc changed since you first made them?

Has your mc ever KILLED anybody? What are their thoughts on MURDER?

Are they afraid to die?

What is a fact about your mc others would never guess?

Is there anything else you’d like us to know?

Name another mc you read about and enjoyed! Shout out your favorite mc!

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

I've been looking at all the MVs and decided to compile every explicit reference to the Milgram prison I could find in them, see if there's any pattern. Don't really know how meaningful it is but I find it interesting. Also, keep in mind it's very possible I'll miss some stuff, and I'll only point out visual references, not lyrics. (And also not the credits in all the videos, they all say Milgram obviously)

Undercover - Just the entire video, I don't think I need to add any examples. I'm not really going to take it into account for this, but it has all the references you could think of.

Weakness - Milgram logo on a perfume (?) bottle, at the beginning. Funnily enough, this is the only instance I could find of the logo itself beyond Undercover and the Es cameo in Backdraft. EDIT: Wrong, it’s also in Bring it On.

Umbilical - Song name + cover song (Sticky Bug) thumbnail in the background. The song name shows up in other scenes as well, but I won't put anything redundant here.

Bring it On - Song name, Milgram name drop, prisoner number. EDIT: And the logo on the upper left corner of the phone.

After Pain - N/A

Throw Down - N/A

Ai Nan Desu Yo - Song + Milgram name drop on the magazine pages (in the image Milgram is name dropped to the right of Mahiru's picture)

half - N/A

Magic - "Produced by Milgram" in the credits (in Hiragana). This is the only time Milgram is written in Japanese.

MeMe - "Milgram [...] card" is written in Milgram runes in the tarot cards. I don't know what the middle word is, but it's not tarot. This is the only time apart from Undercover where 'Milgram' is written in runes.

Harrow - N/A

AKAA - N/A

Tear Drop - Song name drop + cover (Vampire) thumbnail in the background. Also Umbilical name drop because of the 'umbilical' skirt, making it the only video to visually reference the previous song title. Yuno is the only character to have a reference to her cover songs in the main MVs, and she has it in both.

Backdraft - Prisoner + Es cameos, the latter implying the Milgram logo and runes also show up. The QR code in all the spray paint cans leads to the Judge website. There's also Milgram runes in the spray paint cans translating to "Pressure."

(Also noticing now the only prisoner whose entire prisoner tag can be seen in the graffiti, and therefore their prisoner number, is Amane. 0308 nation we stay winning)

It's Not my Fault - N/A

Triage - QR codes that I assume lead to the Judge website, but I can't easily check because there's no clear shot of them. Also Milgram runes in the graves.

I Love You - N/A

Cat - Milgram + song name drop + prisoner number in several spots.

The Purge March - N/A, sort of, since at one point March Leader Amane's shadow is framed to sorta look like Es, but nothing else.

If you want me to come to any conclusions, I'd say anything branded "Milgram" shows a degree of separation with reality, implying Milgram is more involved in bringing it to light than more direct memories. Fuuta's videogame, Mahiru's magazine, Magic and Cat as a whole, Mikoto's highly abstract and symbolic tarot cards. This is what separates, for example, Bring it On's title screen from Tear Drop's; Yuno's perception of reality is a bit more grounded than Fuuta's was in the first Trial. Meanwhile, the name "Milgram" doesn't show up in Backdraft (apart from possibly in Amane's tag), because Fuuta is a bit more realistic there, for example representing Killcheroy more like childishly than in Bring it On.

As for the other stuff, it's quite interesting Yuno is the only one to reference her covers, which can be interpreted in a few different ways. She's shown to be quite intelligent when it comes to some of the more supernatural elements of Milgram (see: "Am I really alive?"), so maybe that's hinting at some sort of higher awareness? Kind of? Sort of? Who knows.

Backdraft is the only video to show the other prisoners (more explicitly than Triage's "extract that fang" line), as well as Es. This fits Fuuta being highly concerned with others' perceptions of him, making him quite prone to peer pressure.

Muu is the only prisoner to have no reference to Milgram in either of her MVs so far, though Kotoko might join her when Deep Cover releases. Take that as you will, I don't know enough about Muu to come to a definitive conclusion.

Don't really know what to do about the QR codes. I guess Fuuta and Shidou both have asked for specific verdicts, but they're not the only ones, so.

Also don't know what else to do with most of this, this was more to put the observation out there. Take care!