#(did I break his arm? yeah don't look at that :) )

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

My Head in Your Hands

It was late evening in Heartslabyul dorm and Cater was doing your makeup. There was no special occasion, you had simply said you liked how he did his and he offered to do yours as well.

At one point during the interaction, he had waved his hand off to the side dramatically as a way of emphasizing a point he was making. He was busy looking back at his phone to make sure it was recording (he was making a video out of him doing your makeup) when he felt it. A soft weight on his palm.

It took him a moment to realize what the weight was: your chin. There you were with your head rested on his palm and a sweet smile on your face. He thought his heart started beating for a moment, but he quickly did what he could to regain his composure. "What are you doing?" His voice came out a bit shakier than he had hoped.

You look at him strangely for a moment before sitting back up "Riiight. That's a trend from my world. Sorry Cay-Cay-"

The moment the word 'trend' leaves your mouth his eyes light up. Before you can finish your sentence, he's demanding you explain this trend to him.

The next day, as you're walking past the Pop Music Club's clubroom, cater calls to you to join him and Kalim. You walk into the room as you have nothing better to do only to be ambushed by Kalim.

"Cater showed me that video where you did that hand thing! You said it was a trend from your world?"

It takes you a moment to catch your breath after getting the soul scared out of you, but when you do you answer "Uhm. . .yeah."

"Can we do that trend too?!"

You're stunned for a moment. Looking over to Cater, he only offers you a shrug. "Sure?"

Kalim grins wider somehow and hugs you excitedly. He softly takes your hand and places his head on it with the widest grin in the world.

Before you can make a comment, he hands you his phone to take the picture with. With a sigh you extend your arm and smile gently before taking the picture.

"Thanks, Prefect! I'll make sure to send the picture to you later!"

That evening as you're relaxing in Ramshackle you hear a knock on the window. At first you brush it off as the wind since you're on the second floor, but there it is again.

Nervously, you throw your legs over the edge of the bed and creep towards the window. With one motion, you tear open the curtains. There's nothing there.

"Boo"

You shriek and nearly fall over, being saved from your fall by a certain mischievous fae. "Lilia!"

All he offers in response in a chuckle and a wink.

"What are you doing here?" You finally sigh

"Cater told me earlier about your escapades in the Pop Music Club today and the moment you two shared yesterday and I simply could not miss out!"

"So you decided to nearly scare me to death and break into my dorm?"

"Break in is such a strong term. I prefer 'indulge in a surprise visit.'"

You have to hold back a groan at his response. "So, what do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious, My Dear? I'd like to take a photo with you!"

"That's it?"

"That's it," he confirms.

"Alright, fine."

Lilia pulls you into a hug before spinning the two of you around in the air. He finally sets you down, getting a chuckle from your dizzy state "Your hand, Dear."

"My hand?"

"Of course! Don't you think I'd look just adorable nuzzled up in your hand?"

A sigh escapes your lips, but it's accompanied by a small smile. You extend your hand and, true to his word, Lilia does indeed nuzzle into your hand. Just as you're about to grab your phone to take the picture, he shakes his head and points to his phone floating in the air.

"Smile for the camera, Dearie!"

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[cozmowrites]

jealousy jealousy

The day had been productive so far, and you felt a spark of motivation after your conversation with Midoriya. He was surprisingly insightful when it came to strategy and technique, and you had spent the last ten minutes discussing how to improve your combat reflexes.

"Thanks, Midoriya," you said with a smile. "I think your idea about pairing agility drills with situational exercises could really help me."

"I'm glad I could help," Midoriya replied, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "You're already doing great, though. I'm sure you'll master it in no time."

As you laughed lightly, completely oblivious to anything else around you, Bakugou was watching. The sharp, angry clench of his jaw, the twitch in his hand, and the dark scowl on his face weren't lost on Kirishima, who stood nearby.

"Uh, Bakugou?" Kirishima started cautiously. "You good, man?"

"I'm fine," Bakugou snapped, though his eyes remained locked on you and Midoriya.

Kirishima followed his line of sight and let out a knowing chuckle. "Ohhh, I see what's going on. You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" Bakugou barked, glaring at his friend.

But he was. The way you leaned in, the way Midoriya nervously scratched his neck when you smiled at him—it made Bakugou's blood boil. Before Kirishima could say another word, Bakugou stormed toward you.

"Oi, nerds," he growled, cutting off whatever Midoriya was about to say. "What the hell are you two so chummy about?"

You turned, startled by Bakugou's sudden appearance. "Bakugou, we're just talking about training. What's your problem?"

"My problem?" he repeated, voice rising. "My problem is that you're wasting your time with this damn Deku instead of someone who actually knows what they're doing."

"Kacchan!" Midoriya exclaimed, his usual nervousness flaring as he took a step back.

"Hey," you said, your tone sharp. "Midoriya does know what he's doing. He's been really helpful."

Bakugou's scowl deepened. "Helpful? You've gotta be kidding me. If you wanna get stronger, train with me. Not with this useless extra."

Your heart skipped a beat at his intensity, but you quickly brushed it aside. "Don't call Midoriya useless! And I can train with whoever I want, thank you very much."

His glare snapped to you, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between you. His jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Whatever," he muttered, turning away. "Do what you want."

You watched him stomp off, confused and frustrated. Why did he always have to act like this?

"Um," Midoriya started, breaking your thoughts. "Maybe... maybe you should talk to him? He's not great at expressing himself, but I think he—"

"Midoriya," you interrupted gently, shaking your head. "I don't know what his problem is, but I'm not chasing after him when he's acting like a jerk."

Midoriya gave you a small, knowing smile. "I think you're misunderstanding him. But... it's up to you."

With a sigh, you decided to leave it for now. But as the hours passed and the memory of Bakugou's fiery glare lingered in your mind, you found yourself unable to let it go. Maybe Midoriya was right.

+++

Later that evening, you found Bakugou sitting alone by the training grounds, staring at the sunset with a scowl.

"Bakugou," you called softly.

He stiffened but didn't look at you. "What do you want?"

"To talk," you said, stepping closer. "About earlier."

"Tch. There's nothing to talk about," he muttered.

You crossed your arms, unwilling to back down. "Why do you care so much about who I train with?"

He finally looked at you, his crimson eyes burning with something you couldn't quite place. "Because it pisses me off seeing you waste time on someone who doesn't push you hard enough."

"Midoriya does push me," you argued. "You just don't like him."

"Yeah, I don't," he admitted bluntly. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point, Bakugou?" you demanded, exasperated.

He hesitated, his jaw working as he struggled to find the words. "The point is... you deserve better," he finally said, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You deserve someone who'll push you to your limits. Someone who..."

You blinked, your breath catching. "Someone who what?"

He looked away, his ears tinged with red. "Forget it. It doesn't matter."

You stared at him, your heart racing as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Was he... jealous? Did he care about you more than you realized?

But no, that couldn't be it. You shook your head, trying to banish the thought. "Bakugou, if you want me to train with you, just say so."

"I already said so," he snapped, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Then stop acting like such a jerk about it," you shot back, stepping closer. "If you care, just... tell me."

His eyes met yours again, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. "You're so damn annoying," he muttered, but there was no heat in his words.

"Yeah, well, you're impossible," you replied, your voice softening.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken feelings neither of you were ready to name. Finally, Bakugou sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. Training tomorrow. You and me," he said gruffly.

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Fine. But don't hold back."

"I never do," he replied, his smirk returning. Back to normal.

[gildui]

the trope where ghost only tolerates you for his pup. too bad the pup's dead. nothing but angst oopsie! OR: another fic where it's ghoap without the 'ap'. all gho and you. good luck.

"you and me," he says and drops silently next to you onto the cold concrete where you sit.

suspended in time, festering.

"ain't made for this, huh."

his voice is all baritone. cataclysmic. he can move the earth with the flex of his chords. and does he.

he knows he's won when he reaches for you and you don't flinch. he ruffles your hair with a gloved palm, mouth crinkling behind the mask.

"dunno what you were thinkin', bird."

you didn't either. hoping that you'd make it work—make him work. but he's always been unapproachable. stalwart. barbed wire and fences meters high.

you cross your ankles tighter, tuck your face between bent knees and shrivel inward.

"johnny's not the one for ya," ghost's voice rumbles like an impending storm and you sigh at even the mention of his name.

he's never been this chatty before, always looking at you like you were secondary. derelict debris revolving around the sun, obstructing his view. you pull yourself inwards and ignore his magnetism.

maybe, for once, ghost will get the hint.

he never does.

he grunts, knees cracking as he shifts (tectonic plates; the earth settles—a slow promise of how organic life disintegrates without its nutrients) to sit next to you.

"left you too," you say; forlorn, pitiful.

ghost huffs outward in humour. "yeah," he muses, gloved fingers thrumming against his knees.

he hasn't had a moment to relax, hasn't wanted one either.

"least i got to say goodbye."

"what an asshole comment."

"must suck to find out through a text," ghost ignores the way you tighten, head lifting from the halo of your arms, and glare into his side profile. "price didn't even call ya, did he?"

no point in answering when he's always right.

"gaz said it would be right if he did." he's waiting for you the finally break. jabbing at you for weak points—soft spots—because he's got none of his own left.

there was a reason you preferred johnny to them all.

you inhale, bracing yourself.

air tightens moments before the implosion; the promise of ruination. a black hole awaiting its chance to eat and eat and eat—

"musta forgot, yeah?"

when you drop back into your earlier position—knees bent, ankles tucked, your face in your arms—he finally looks at you. defeat.

success.

ghost sucks on his teeth.

it doesn't taste as sacharrine as normal.

"got me still," he says assuredly, but its the promise of a long-dead corpse.

you wonder if this is what it feels like to be suspended in dead space.

at least, you finally know what it's like to be suspended in dark matter. the boötes void. it's never been so promising.

"gonna take good care o'ya, bird."

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

✨ We listen, and we don't judge ✨

I'm thinking yan!Thangyu x reader x yan!Inho where after "Young-il" dogwalks Thanos and Nam-gyu for disrespecting him the way they did, the reader would start hanging out a lot more with In-ho as a means of security. Even if Players 230 and 124 get reader alone with them (i.e. the 3-person Mingle round) the Front Man still has a way of making Thanos behave himself (as seen in the show when he lets go of Myung-gi upon seeing the guy who kicked his ass without breaking a sweat)

So how would Thanos and Nam-gyu react to seeing their girl cozying up to the top dog? And how would In-ho react knowing that reader really liked seeing him put those boys in their places like that?

Ooo, now that's a good one! >:)

Flower among them

Squid Game masterlist

Yandere!Thangyu x fem!reader x Yandere!Hwang In-ho/Young-il

Cw/triggers: Yandere themes, jealousy, possessive behavior, dead dove do not eat.

Thanos and Nam-gyu sat at their corner, both looking at you from afar. Nam-gyu had his gaze set on Young-il, while Thanos eyed you. The effects of his drugs slowly wore off and he didn't seem as enraged while high, but he still was angry.

"I fucking hate this guy, bro." Thanos said, cracking his neck.

Nam-gyu tore his gaze off of Young-il. "Yeah me too. This asshole won our girl over."

Both of them watched as Young-il gave you his milk pack, Thanos had a neutral expression while Nam-gyu seemed to be almost seething.

Then came the speaker announcement for lights out, and the two laid down in their beds.

Meanwhile you still sat across Young-il, having just finished the milk. As you looked at him, you saw him already staring at you with a hint of a slight smirk.

"How are you feeling by the way?" He started softly.

"Good. So far."

Young-il scooted closer to you. "You don't have to worry about those two anymore. I'll make sure they behave." He smiled.

You hummed. "You really showed them their place earlier. They must feel so humiliated." You chuckled.

Young-il gently waved it off. "It's nothing. I... get like that when it comes to respect."

You smiled. "I liked it. Shows you got spirit."

Young-il gave a small cocky grin. "Well then you should stick close to me from now on."

In-ho noticed how vulnerable you looked and how easy you are on the eyes. He noticed you before but now the close proximity had his mind snap and he wanted to keep you all to himself, even if it means killing others.

Later that night, you woke up, feeling the need to pee. You made sure to be as quiet as possible. Once at the door leading to the bathrooms, you suddenly heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Hey Señorita." Thanos saundered towards you, with Nam-gyu beside him.

You ignored him, speaking to the triangle guard to open the door.

Nam-gyu leaned against the wall beside you while Thanos did on the otherside.

"Where is your protector?" Nam-gyu taunted, not caring about a second triangle guard appearing next to the other.

"Looks like he's giving you back to us." Thanos chimed in with a smirk.

You did not want to hear another word coming from them. You have Young-il now and they behaved like shit and still do. So you simply ignored them, stepping into the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Both Nam-gyu and Thanos didn't like your ignoring and went after you.

"Hey don't ignore us, flower, we just want to talk!" Thanos gripped your arm and Nam-gyu grabbing your shoudlers to turn you around.

Just then both of them tensed up and loosened their grip on you.

"Player 124 and 230, let her go."

Came the voice of one of the triangle guards as they had their rifles pointed at Nam-gyu and Thanos' back.

Nam-gyu didn't want to let you leave. "Hey why are you so attentive towards other players so suddenly? Aren't you the ones killing them?"

"Let her go. Now." Came the last warning and with that, Nam-gyu and Thanos stepped back, giving you space just as Young-il stepped through the door.

Young-il just stood there, you saw him giving the guards a cold glance over before looking at you.

"Is everything okay in here?" Young-il asked innocently.

Thanos and Nam-gyu said nothing and made their way out as if they were scared of another beat up.

"Are you okay?" Young-il asked, stepping close to you and giving a worried look.

"Yes," you nodded "how did you know I was here?"

Young-il motioned outside. "I saw the light and your bed was empty. I wanted to make sure you're alright." he lied expertly. Of course he was awake the whole time, seeing you slip out of bed and the two junkies crowding you.

"Thanks for coming." You smiled weakly.

Young-il stepped even closer, putting his hand reassuringly on your shoulder.

"No big deal. But for now I think it's best for me to keep an eye on you just incase."

You gently shook your head. "You don't have to."

Young-il leaned closer. "I'm afraid you have no other choice. Either it's me keeping you safe or those two assholes." He said in a low, almost threatening tone.

"You will come to see how safe with me you are. And I'm the only one here capable of getting you out of here alive..."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wished to be tagged :) : @i-might-be-vanny

[folkwhoreberry]

Hello I have another on because I just love your stories ALOT if you don't mind ofc!

Reader that almost gets killed because of Hades monster and percy losing total control of himself and his powers thinking that reader is dead.

Yeah that's all I got thank you for your time if you don't want to do it you don't have to!

Long Live, Angel

percy jackson x reader

or... the one where he’s losing you

word count : 568

warning : mmh mentions of a cut, blood, and death, english is not my first language!!!

🔱🌊

“percy, behind you!”

that’s the last thing percy heard from you.

he turned around to face the monster behind him, who quickly switched sides to attack you instead. a heavy fog covered the two of you, and then… nothing. only your limp body laying on the floor, some blood trickling from a cut on your arm, and the monster hovering above you.

“no! you… you monster, you killed her!” percy screamed at the monster, tears blurring his vision as he felt his heart thumping in his throat. the monster just growled loudly at him, starting to walk towards the raven haired boy, as if planning his steps to get him next.

percy quickly got his pen sword out of his pocket, running towards the monster with a sprint full of anger and rage. extending his arms forward, his reached out to stab the monster in its stomach, but it was too quick, swiftly moving to the side so that the blade will miss him.

percy looked at the monster with pure rage in his face, his eyes screaming with a need for bloodshed and slaughter. “you’re not going to get away with this.” he whispered venomously under his breath.

the two begin to walk around each other in circles, eyes continuously fixated on the other, every few moments charging towards the opponent who quickly moved away to dodge the attack.

after a few minutes of this game of cat and mouse, percy found a perfect moment to attack, holding his sword in both of his hands and running forward, jumping high and stabbing the monster in the eye, who vanished into dust and away back to the underworld.

he took just a second to regulated his breath again, before turning his attention back to you. he walked over to you, kneeling next to you body and holding you hand in his as he looked at you with tearful eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” percy spoke, his voice breaking as he did, lifting your hand up to give it a kiss.

percy just stared at your like this for a few minutes, admiring your beauty as his tears rolled down his face and onto your body.

after what felt like forever, you stirred a bit, eyes fluttering open and making him snap out of his trance. “w-what-“ you began speaking before being interrupted by percy, who quickly leaned down and held you tightly in his arms squeezing you against his chest. “oh, princess… oh, my angel baby… I thought you were dead, do you know how much you scared me?” he quickly said, burying his face in the top of your head and lifting your so that you’ll sit on your knees.

“are-are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, pulling away to cup you face in his hands. “I-I’m fine, I think… my arm really hurts and my head is thumping, but nothing else, really… what happens?” you answered, looking down at your arm and wincing as you saw the deep cut.

“just this stupid monster, that’s it. but I killed it, it’s all fine now.” he said reassuringly, more reassuring himself than you. he looked at you with a tense expression which slowly relaxed, rubbing your temples with his thumbs softly.

“now, we’re gonna go get you checked out.”

he ended up carrying you all the way back to camp in bridal style, refusing to let you walk.

————————————————————————————

a/n : I’m craving ice cream help a poor girl please🫶🏻

[midnight-mourning]

(Mostly) Happy Accidents

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 3💘💘

Silly little fluffy thing for you all, as someone allergic to red dye (to a point, it's a 50/50 chance whether i'll break out in hives or not so I usually just avoid it to be safe) it resonated when it came to valentine's candy/sweets, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: The boys know about the tradition of Valentine's candy and get some for Y/N, not knowing they were allergic to one of the ingredients in the candy. Apologies and appreciation for attempting to get Y/N a gift obviously follow

Word Count: 1425

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Sun seems almost too excited when the last child exits the Daycare for the day. Practically buzzing beside you as you wave goodbye and shut the door. 

Maybe it was just for clean up, considering you had so much to do today in particular. It was Valentine's after all. And as with every holiday, the attendant simply had to go all out for it. Which, while pretty, would be a laborious process to tidy up. 

So when you turn around to discuss it with him, and see his hands filled with a giant heart-shaped box, you were quite surprised. 

"Happy Valentine's day, Sunbeam! We got this just for you!" Sun tilts his head, rays spinning quickly. 

Your eyes widen, starting to smile. "Oh! You didn't guys didn't have to do that. But I appreciate it! Thank you, really." 

You take the box and open it up. Inside, they're all sorts of different sweets, all different shapes and with different patterns. You don't even know where to begin. You pick one at random and pop it into your mouth, chewing as you listen to Sun speak again. 

"Of course we did! How else are we supposed to show how much we care about you? On the most important day to do it, no less." He chuckles. 

Your face starts to warm up, and you swallow. "Y-yeah? You um, mean that?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't, Sweetheart." Sun boops your nose, giggling. 

It just serves to fluster you further, so to stop yourself from saying anything by downing another chocolate. 

Sun continues chatting, his excitement truly coming to light now. "We were really nervous about finding something you'd like, we spent ages trying to make sure we found something that had all your favorite flavors, to show you how much we care, because we do, a lot..."

As he talks, you realize the burning on your face isn't getting any better, but now notice that it's not from being embarrassed. The warmth is also traveling down your neck and chest, accompanied by an all too familiar itching sensation. You feel that same to desire to scratch at your currently covered arms.Your throat is tight, but not horrible, thankfully.

When you think to look at the half-bite you've taken out of the chocolate in your hand, and see the hot pink-colored filling, it basically confirms what you thought had happened. 

You keep your calm though, still trying to listen as the playtime attendant keeps going. "—And then came the matter of actually getting it! We couldn't ask for help because that would ruin the surprise, and we were also afraid someone would tell us we couldn't get you something, and that wouldn't do! So imagine our delight when Officer Ryan left his wallet in the break room. We just quickly borrowed the card and put it right back, don't worry! He didn't even notice—" He stops all of the sudden, tone falling. "Is everything okay, Starshine?"

You jump, realizing you're scratching at your neck now. "Um, sort of? Do you happen to know if any of these have red dye in them?"

"Red dye? Of course they don't, Sunbeam, it says right here in your file that you're allergic we would never—forget... something, like, that..." Sun freezes in that moment, staring out into space as realization seems to kick him straight in the gut. 

You put your hands up. "It's okay, it's okay. I just need a benadryl and I'll be fine-Woah!"

Sun scoops you up, hurriedly rushing over to the desk with you in his arms. With his free hand he starts frantically looking for something. 

"Not good, not good, not good! Oh, I'm so so so sorry Star! We should have paid more attention, we just got so caught up in finding you something perfect and now—" He shakes his head, growing more panicked. 

You try to diffuse the situation before he short circuits or something. "Sunny, it's fine, I promise. It's just a mild allergy. I'll be okay, really." You don't tell him how desperately you want him to set you down so you can scratch your arms off, as you think that'll only worsen the situation. 

Your words don't register, he can't seem to hear you as he searches through the medical bag, suddenly ripping his hand from inside to pull out an epi pen. And before you can protest, he's setting you on the desk and jabbing it into your thigh. 

You yelp, and he immediately relaxes. For the most part. As his posture sags, face downturned, he speaks again, dejected. "Please forgive us. We're so sorry. Had we been paying attention this never would have happened."

"Sunny, it's okay. It was a mistake." You set a hand on his shoulder, he flinches at your touch. 

Suddenly he looks up, anger in his tone, though not at you, you quickly realize. "But we hurt you! How can you be so calm about this!?"

"Because it's a minor allergy, silly bot." You cup his face with both hands as his rays flit about. "Do you have any idea how many things have red dye in them? Especially Valentine's candy? I've probably had to take an antihistamine like four times this week already."

You ignore his wide-eyed stare at your statement in favor of pressing your lips to his smile for a moment. "It's my fault for not checking beforehand, not yours. You were just trying to be nice and do something sweet for me. And I appreciate that more than anything. Really, I do. I'm… flattered, honestly." You mumble the last bit, looking away as you comprehend what you just did. 

A hand on your cheek makes you glance back to him, eyes now lidded and tone syrupy. "We're glad..." He shakes his head. "But, still. It won't happen again! Now come on, what you need is proper rest and relaxation!"

Again you're picked up, carried away to be sat in the attendant's lap in a bean bag, blanket suddenly covering you both and a couple of coloring books and crayons appearing out of nowhere. 

"Don't you worry, we'll think up an even better gift to give you before the day is over! I promise!" Sun says as he gets to work on coloring. 

You pause to register everything that just happened, then chuckle, shaking your head. "Okay, but really, it's alright. This is just as thoughtful, you know. But we'll have to clean at some point, don't forget."

Sun hums, and he's so focused you think he only half hears you. You laugh again, and snuggle back into him to get started yourself. As his free hand slings round your waist you feel yourself start to burn up all over again. 

The rest of the afternoon is filled with similar activities, neither attendant letting up at all about 'making it up to you' despite your insistence that you were okay. 

You didn't mind in the slightest though, now snuggled in Moon's arms as you both sit reading. 

"As horrible as it sounds I'm kinda glad you bought those chocolates." You glance up to him, small smile on your face. "I don't think things would've ended up this way if you hadn't."

Moon tsks, though his eyes hold a certain cheekiness. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we'll ever be letting it happen again. There are much better ways to end up with you in my arms." He flicks your forehead and you huff. Only to be silenced by a brief peck to your lips. 

He holds something up for you then, and taking a moment to focus you see it's a bundle of paper roses. Looking closer you see some are made from coloring pages, and others from Moon's book. 

"We have plenty of more books of all kinds before you worry. And it was the least we could do considering what happened earlier."

You take the bundle, admiring the detail in each folded piece of paper. "They're lovely. Truly. Thank you both." You twist again to kiss his cheek, then go back to fawning over your present, warm smile on your lips. 

"Once we get ahold of Officer Ryan's credit card again we'll be sure to get you something better, I promise." Moon presses a kiss to the top of your head, and picks up his book once more. 

You pause then. "I, let's not do that—you didn't think to save it?"

"We did. But just inputting it directly isn't nearly as thrilling." He snickers. 

"Moon!" 

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Thank you for the request @dangerva! I enjoyed writing the sillies panicking (just a little bit) hehe

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have and To Hold: Part 13

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Series Masterlist

When Marc wakes up, your side of the bed is empty. He hears the shower on in the en suite bathroom, so he knows you're in there.

He stares up the ceiling and lets out a pained, deep breath. He really can't catch a break. Everything with you has been fucked from the start. He never wanted things to go this way. He knew it was going to be difficult, but he didn't think it'd be this difficult.

He thought he'd have more time. More time to get to know you more, more time to process everything. Just...more.

But Marc's life has never been an easy one. He's never gotten anything easy, never gotten any peace. So he just has to roll with the punches.

But fuck, is he tired of getting beat down.

You step into the bedroom, towel wrapped around your body, "Oh, morning," you say with a hint of surprise, but cover it with a nonchalant.

Marc sits up with a grunt, "Guess we should talk."

You nod, "Yup. Let me change first," you walk into the closet, closing the doors behind you. Marc takes the few minutes to gather his thoughts.

He needs to apologize. He might even beg on his knees for you to believe him. From now on, he has to be completely honest with you from now on.

You exit the closet wearing leggings and a loose fitted t-shirt. You stand there, hip jutted out, and arms crossed over your chest. You're guarding yourself. Marc understands, but hates it nonetheless.

"So?" you ask with a raise of your brow.

He clears his throat, "So, yes, I intentionally didn't tell you certain things. Not because I didn't want to tell you at all, but because I didn't want to worry you. You've already been under a lot of stress and I was just thinking about you." You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off with a raise of his hands, "I know. I know. I still should have told you about it all: the arrangement, your dad, my now ex-wife. I fucked up.

"I truly am sorry though. I never want to hurt you, Y/N. I care about you."

You had a feeling the conversation was going to go this way. You thought about various scenarios of it while you took your shower. Despite you wanting to paint Marc to be a villain, you know he truly isn't. Despite his rough exterior and "tough shit" you know he has a soft heart. You've seen it first hand the days following your arranged engagement.

You let your arms, and your internal walls, slowly fall.

"I get it...still fucking hurts that you kept all of it from me. And-And I don't know how I'm supposed to trust you-"

"I won't keep anything from you anymore. I promise. Anything that could put either of us or this arrangement at risk, I'll tell you."

"I'll do the same," you say in agreement.

He slowly nods, "Do you...have questions?"

"Who was she?" you ask as you sit at the corner of the bed.

"Layla El-Fouly. I met her back when I was a mercenary...I was ordered to kill her father. I was supposed to get close to her, kill her too but-"

"But you fell in love."

"Yeah. Then she found out that I was the one who killed her father and she left. Didn't see or hear from her in years."

"Did you try looking for her?"

He shrugs, "Not really. I understand why she left. I lied to her," he lowly chuckles to himself, "Guess I really don't have a good track record when it comes to marriages. Both of mine rooting from deceit." He looks down at his lap in shame.

"But you finally found her."

"When your father came to me about the arrangement, he already knew of my marriage to Layla. He gave me contacts to help me find her so I can serve her the papers. She finally reached out a few days ago. She wanted to talk before signing the papers."

You think about when you saw them at the cafe, how he was holding Layla's hand, looking at her. You felt that twinge of jealousy and insecurity crawling into your heart.

"Do you still love her?"

Marc gives a sigh, "I think a part of me will always have some care for her, but I don't love her. Not anymore."

You feel a weight lifting off your shoulders after that. Because, dammit, you know you've fallen for Marc. Despite everything, you really care for him and you know he'd treat you well in this marriage.

It was your turn to release a deep sigh, "Okay."

"Anymore questions?"

"I should have asked about this earlier on, but how long did you know about the arranged marriage before my dad told me."

"Two weeks."

"Did you help create my dad's plan to take Harrow out?"

He shook his head, "I didn't know a thing. I asked him to let me in, so I can help but he told me my strict orders were to get you out of there. All I knew was that he had a plan and it was probably going to end in his death."

"How has Steven and.."

"Jake."

"How has Steven and Jake taken to this life?"

He snorts, "Steven hates it. He's a pacifist, so he's not around often when I'm out and about. Jake...he's a rare sighting. But he's the kind of guy that doesn't care about what measures you take, all that matters is the outcome."

"Aren't you the same way?" you ask him with a challenging tone.

"I do what has to be done, but I do also try to keep in mind the consequences and who I might be hurting. Jake doesn't care so much for that."

"He sounds dangerous."

Marc snorts, "You have no idea, sunshine." He looks at you with soft eyes, "Are we going to be okay?"

You reach out, placing your hand on top of his, "I think so. Just, no more secrets. Got it?"

He makes an 'X' over his heart, "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"No dying anytime soon, please," you murmur and crawl over, pecking his lips, "I'm gonna finalize wedding stuff."

"Let me know if you need any help!" he hollers as you exit the bedroom.

"Will do!" you respond, your voice echoing through the halls.

"That went a lot better than expected," Steven says in relief.

"You're telling me, buddy," Marc murmurs back with a scoff.

"So it'll be happily ever after for you after all?"

"We can only hope, Steven," Marc replies back as he stands from the bed, and heads to the bathroom to shower.

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀birthday cat | kth

⠀⠀⠀taehyun x fem!reader

genre ; smut

warnings | tags ; cumming inside with no protection & no protection mentioned too; reader is not a gym girlie like at all (and is kinda stiff too); taehyun is itty bitty rough, but not in details?..

wordcount ; 0.7k

✉ notes ; happy birthday, taehyun! the member who is the best in anything he does! it was my very first impression (to do x txt ep 3 where he won the games other members were terrible at), and it stayed the same.

i hope to write more for him in the future and overcome struggles with writing him, but i'd probably go for the most basic and cliché scenarios at first (like that one.....) ANYWAY i hope you enjoy it 🤍

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

that year, taehyun's birthday happened to fall on a wednesday. he didn’t have any issues with wednesdays, but since he was on a break, he tried to maintain his workout schedule without skipping days without a valid reason. however, a little celebration with the members was planned for the afternoon, and a bigger one in the evening with his family. you'd be with him for both, but it seemed like the two of you wouldn't have any private time together.

taehyun was ready to skip today's workout just to spend time with you when you asked if you could join him. you rarely did, as he preferred to work out early while you stayed in bed. he knew he would spend more time looking after you as you curiously tested out all the equipment in the home gym. nevertheless, he agreed—a little workout was better than none at all.

what taehyun didn't expect was that you would start stretching. yoga pants weren't easy already, but he was glad you were wearing an oversized t-shirt that covered everything—until you sat down and had to take it off because it was in the way, leaving you in just a sports bra and now perfectly open yoga pants. he had to stop his own workout because lifting weights was dangerous when all his attention was solely focused on you.

"need a hand?" taehyun asked, sitting on the floor next to you as you struggled to get into a proper downward dog, your limbs shaking slightly. as you nodded, he placed his hand on your lower back. “you should start with something easier,” he pushed your hips down until you were standing on your hands and knees. kneeling behind you, he spread your legs with his, his breath hitching at the view.

taehyun placed his palm on your bare back, making you shiver as he gently pushed it to make you arch your back. he pressed his hips flush against yours, his hard-on feeling so good through the thin fabric of his sweatpants and your yoga pants, making your arms tremble.

you mewled, head hung low, when his fingers dipped under the waistband, caressing the skin beneath. when you didn't protest, instead moving your hips to meet taehyun's moves, he dragged the yoga pants and underwear down to your knees, making you hiss at the feeling of cool air hitting your already wet center.

"i d-don't remember poses like that in yoga," you whimpered, and he ground his still-covered dick against you, turning your words into a moan.

"yeah?" taehyun placed his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing it down while trying to tug his sweatpants and underwear down with the other hand. you got the hint, lowering your shoulders onto the yoga mat, the view from behind making taehyun groan. he finally managed to free himself, wrapping a hand around his shaft and rubbing the tip against your folds, spreading his precum. “stretch your arms forward.”

you obeyed, mewling something incoherent in response, not even sure yourself what it was, brain already fogged as you reached back with one hand, nails digging into firm muscles of his thigh as you tried to pull him closer. taehyun obliged, aligning himself before pushing inside, slowly stretching you to make sure he didn’t hurt you. his next movement, though, wasn’t so gentle already, as he snapped his hips forward in a harsh thrust, his fingers tangled in your hair. 

you whimpered into the yoga mat, arching your back more, palms pressed against the floor over your head. the slaps of skin against skin and the harsh pants, moans and whimpers echoed off the walls, as taehyun’s hips pounded into your ass with a force that had you seeing stars, your vision blurring at the edges.

it didn't take long before you were crying out, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as it crashed over you. you clenched down around taehyun, your walls fluttering and milking his cock as he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you with a groan of your name.

you collapsed onto the mat together, taehyun's body blanketing yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. he pressed soft kisses to your shoulders, neck and jaw before murmuring into your skin, still breathless a bit. “it was extended puppy pose.”

you pressed your forehead into the mat, chuckling quietly. “birthday pervert. i love you.”

taehyun moved down a bit, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. “i love you more.”

[stellar-waves]

. . . at first sight

. . .

[ boondock saints : connor + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 1 ⚠ warnings: nothing major, alcohol consumption, pre-canon, short and sweet A/N: Trying my hand at this. Who knows if I'm doing it right/well/whatever. But definitely going to keep these short, because if I don't, I'll get carried away and overthink everything.

. . .

Those eyes lock with yours, those sapphire-blue eyes you’ve surely only read about. Nevermind the magnetic hold they have on you as soon as you walk into the bar. 

You feel your sober face flush, taking in the rest of the handsome stranger with the romance novel eyes. His golden brown hair is short and so perfectly messy, while his tanned skin glows under the incandescent lights. 

Your friend grabs your hand and leads you to the bar, squeezing between middle-aged regulars with callused hands grasping their pints. You blink, afraid you’ll lose those eyes in all the fuss…and you sigh in a strange mix of relief and fear when you find those eyes still on you. 

But you hear your name, and you’re forced to drag your gaze back to your friend, annoyingly gesturing to the poor old bartender. “Wh-wh-wh-what’ll it be, lass?” he stutters in a kind Irish accent. 

“Oh…” your mouth drops open, embarrassed that you don’t have an answer. What will it be? “Jameson and coke,” you finally conclude, suddenly thirsty for the comfort of some Irish whiskey. “Thank you...”

“Name’s Doc. Ju-ju-just shout if ye need anything else,” the old man offers, handing you and your friend your drinks. 

As you slide out from the bar, your friend loops her arm around yours while you scan for those blue eyes again. “There’s a table!” your friend exclaims, pulling away from you as a wave of people breaks between you. Flustered and disoriented, you try to make your way back to your friend when someone bumps into your shoulder, throwing you off course unexpectedly, and you crash into a broad chest clad in a worn grey t-shirt. 

“Ye alright, lass?” a different, younger Irish accent asks. And as you look up, those same blue eyes are smiling back at you. “Least ye didn’t spill yer drink there,” Blue Eyes adds, a smirk crawling up his chiseled cheeks. 

��Right,” you say instinctively, the word dragging out as you lose yourself in his presence. But you snap yourself out, shaking your head. “Oh, shit, did I get any on you?” you naturally wipe his shirt, unaware that you’re touching him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “No, no. I meant that it’s good ye didn’t spill any so ye can drink it, yeah?” 

Your cheeks turn bright red, you know they do the instant he grins at you. “Yeah…” you nervously sip your drink to further prove he’s right. 

He drinks his beer, licking his lips before smiling again. “Otherwise, I’d have to buy ye another one.”

You twist your lips in slight confusion. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around? That I’d have to buy you a drink?”

He scoffs, and you’re suddenly aware that your hand is still on his chest. “Even if, a gentleman would still take care of it anyway.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconsciously rubbing your thumb against his shirt and moving closer. “Are you a gentleman?”

He wraps his arm around your waist, holding his hand lightly against the small of your back. “I’m whatever ye need me to be, lass.”

. . .

[timbrainpopkinnie]

“You pathetic bitch!” Schlatt cried, wincing in pain as a hand instinctively grabbed his stomach, but he drew no further attention to it. “How could you do this to me?!” he screamed, moving his hand from his stomach to angrily jab Astrid in the chest.

“Don't you think you're… overreacting?” She replied, flinching instinctively as the whiplash of regret hit her. That was probably one of the worst things she could have said, but she just wanted Schlatt to calm down and not fight in front of the baby. Before Schlatt could react, Astrid put her hands up and continued to speak. “Okay, listen, I know that was fucked up for me to say, but look at yourself, Schlatt,” she motioned toward Apandah in a nearby baby carrier, who was now observing the two with wide eyes. Schlatt’s loud voice startled him. 

“Look at myself? Look at you! Look at you over here locking lips with my so-called best friend!” Schlatt continued, watting her hands away while unable to control his anger in front of the baby.

Mika saw this and immediately intervened, stepping between Schlatt and Astrid as she retreated. “Look, man, this isn’t the right place or time to be doing this. And don't be hitting Astrid like that, yeah? She’s a woman.” He tried to talk some sense into Schlatt, but his hopes weren’t high. He took a step back, creating more distance between him and Astrid. “I’ll admit, this was stupid. I should have respected you and your relationship, but don't get me wrong. Youre… you know,” he shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to say this in a way that didn't make him sound like a douche. “Youre still recovering. There are certain things you can't do for a while. I just wanted to make sure Astrid was-”

Schlatt took a step closer, looming over Mika as he cut him off with his loud tone. “Like what? I can't make out with my wife, or were you implying something else?” Schlatt crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He very well knew Mika’s true meaning, but watching him awkwardly squirm and stutter trying to defend himself was almost amusing and did nothing less than inflate his ego, riling him up even more.

“Schlatt, just... listen to me.” Astrid chimed in, her voice quieter than it was before. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I initiated it. I just needed to release pent-up stress, you know? Your postpartum hormones aren't really letting me catch a break.” She explained, stepping closer to the group and pleading with her hands clasped together.

“I'M the one who was pregnant for nine months! I'M the one who spent 32 hours in labor, and YOURE the one who needs a break?!” Schlatt screamed louder than before, startling Apandah once more, but this time causing him to cry. 

His son's tears broke him free of his rage, and he instinctively made his way over to comfort him, but Astrid and Mika blocked the way, only responding to Schlatt with a series of disappointed looks and headshakes as they picked up Apandah and comforted him on their own. Schlatt’s heart broke at the sight of his son and wife seemingly part of another family with a different man... But he didn't let himself show weakness as he scoffed and turned around to storm off into his office, slamming the door behind him and locking himself inside.

My friend said I should start writing Sleep Deprived fanfiction and this is what he suggested (he’s never seen it)

[mewkwota]

"...I'm not talking to some random schoolkid."

As much as I love having family interact, I think Kazuma needs to keep his ties to the Hikari family as a secret (also it's cooler that way). Is it because he's a criminal? Is it because he's not supposed to exist anymore? It doesn't matter, it really is cooler that way.

[fredorepetto]

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[norikuna]

SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

[willaminareads]

too busy

PARING: exhusband!drew x reader

SUMMARY: you and drew had been divorced for a little under a year now. while drew had your two kids this weekend, zach unfortunately let it slip, that mommy had a new "friend". drew was anything but thrilled.

WORD COUNT: 667 words

WARNINGS: possesive drew, angst, fluff, cursing, kids.

WILLA SPEAKS: hey! this is my first fic, on this blog, and i'm so excited!! please note that english is not my first language, so if any mistakes occur, i'm so sorry! enjoy<3

you stand outside his door, waiting for him to open it. you were a little nervous. you didn't exactly have a reason to be, but you were.

"y/n," drew says as he opens the door. "hi, baby, come in. the kids are in their playroom." he ushers you inside, hoping you didn't notice he let the nickname slip. old habits die hard.

you smile softly at the nickname but quickly stop once you notice. this is your ex. hell, not even just your ex—your ex-husband.

you follow him inside his new house. you liked it, though it did remind you of the house the two of you once shared.

"can i get you anything?" drew breaks the silence.

"you have tea?" you ask softly.

"the kettle is already on, sweetheart," he responds in the same soft tone. god, he knows me so well, you thought.

he finds a cup for you and starts preparing the tea. silence falls between you. it wasn't awkward per se, but not exactly pleasant either.

drew is the first to break the silence, still keeping all his attention on your tea. "zach says you've got a new friend." his tone is sharp, not at all soft like the one you'd heard just a couple of minutes ago.

a quiet "oh," was all you could muster up. you didn't know what to say. i mean, what could you say?

he turns his attention to you, handing you the cup of tea. "yeah, that was my reaction as well," he says bitterly.

you sigh. "come on, drew, don't do this." guilt written all over your face.

he lets out a dry laugh. "i didn't do shit, y/n."

"i'm allowed to move on, drew," you say softly, catching his gaze.

"the fuck you are," he sneers, placing his hands on the countertop. "i can't, so you don't get to either." his statement hangs in the air as you stare at each other.

you scoff. "no, you don't get to do this, drew. you fucked up. you didn't have time for us," you say, knowing how to hit him where it hurts.

"don't say that." he looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

"why not, drew? it's true," you state. "you were too busy with your big dreams, and, i mean, it worked out for you," you say, waving your arms slightly. "you have everything a man could want," you taunt.

"you know that's not true," he glares at you.

you shrug. "you can't have your cake and eat it too."

he scoffs at your comment. "right, okay. you're getting on my nerves, y/n," he bites. "you know how much i wanted to make this work. you know how much i love you—"

you cut him off. "loved."

"no, fuck that, and fuck you for saying it," he raises his voice at you. he doesn't do that often. "i'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. "you know that i still love you. i just want another chance, y/n. let me show you that we can make this work," he says softly, reaching for your hand.

you shake your head at him. "we can't put the kids through another divorce, drew," you say softly.

"we won't," he says. "come on, y/n. we can make this work."

you sigh. "drew..."

"please," he says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

"there's no new guy." drew stares at you, a little confused, waiting for you to continue. "that friend zach says he saw me with?" drew nods along. "it was chase."

"chase? as in my co-star chase?" drew asks, utterly confused.

"yeah... he and maddie came by to help me build a dresser." you bite your lip, your nerves taking over your body.

"oh," he falls silent.

"drew?" you ask.

"so, no new guy?" he asks with a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

"no new guy." you confirm.

"so... do you wanna marry me again..?" he asks.

"drew!" you exclaim with laughter as you smack his arm.

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.