#I got a back to back call from him a few days ago

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

���Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Racing Hearts, Fractured Bonds

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

The garage was eerily quiet as I lingered near the entrance. Above, the TV displayed the times from today’s FP1, and my stomach twisted as I saw that name paired with that time. Sure, I’d done decently again, but Jack—he was struggling. Alpine hadn’t been treating him the greatest, and with his contract situation hanging over him, I could only imagine the pressure that had to be weighing on him.

It was the third race of the season, and Jack hadn’t scored any points yet. The closest he’d come was 13th, and it was painful to watch from the sidelines. A few days ago, he called me, needing to vent, desperate for the support of his younger sister. I had to lie—pretend I was clueless about what was happening in F1. I spun some story about how my job was stressful, how I was so busy that I barely had time to catch my breath. He needed something to distract him, some reminder that he wasn’t alone in dealing with pressure, and I gave it to him.

I tried to weave in a little of what I dealt with in the garage, but twisted the details enough so he couldn’t catch on. He couldn’t know the truth—not yet. He couldn’t know that I was Ghost. This season wasn’t about me; it was about Jack, about what he could achieve. I couldn’t risk stealing his spotlight. It was too late to share my accomplishments with him anyway. The family had no idea that for the last five years, I’d been secretly racing. Thanks to my uncle, I had the chance to continue karting when our parents couldn’t afford to support both of our careers.

I had taken the fall back then for Jack. I played the part of the dutiful sister, stepping aside to make sure his dreams came first. So why not continue to do that now? He loved this sport, and I was determined not to let our family’s drama overshadow his passion. He deserved this chance, and I would help him get it. I could put my dreams on hold until I earned my own sponsorships.

My uncle had seen the favoritism, saw how my talent was being buried beneath it, and quickly stepped in to help me race in secret. With his guidance and support, I proved myself and managed to secure a sponsor in just one year of karting. It was my time to shine, but not yet. Not until Jack had his moment.

During the last race weekend, Jack had been asked about the growing friendship between him and Ghost. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched his quick, genuinely happy response on the screen. “I don’t know who he is behind that helmet, but he’s one hell of a driver. I’m just really happy to have this growing friendship between us. At first, I thought I was just going to learn that all the rumors about him were true, but after the first few minutes of talking to him? Ghost is someone worth the time and effort. He’s more than just racing talent behind that visor—he gives incredible advice and offers such a fresh perspective.”

Hearing Jack’s words felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Even though my real identity couldn’t be there for him in the way I wanted, at least my secret persona could offer him something—the support, the advice, the genuine connection that I couldn’t show as myself. It was bittersweet, but it was something.

Suddenly, the TV cut to the Alpine garage. I watched as Jack’s car was rolled into his pit, and he got out, helmet still on, but his face was already etched with frustration. The expression on his face was unmistakable—he was angry, likely at himself. I knew how hard he could be on himself, but in this moment, I also knew that the harshest voice in his head wasn’t coming from anyone else—it was coming from within.

I turned away from the screen, my heart aching for him, and walked toward my driver's room. Once inside, I locked the door and turned on my TV. I grabbed a couple of towels to plug up the cracks in the door, trying to soundproof the room as much as I could. It wasn’t a perfect setup, but it would have to do. I needed to call Jack, to find a way to lift his spirits, and maybe, just maybe, if he asked, I could offer him the real advice I knew he needed.

The memories of seeing his face change from disheartened to energized—his expression lighting up with that newfound motivation whenever I gave him advice in the past—pushed me into action. I couldn’t waste time. He needed something now, and I needed to figure out how to help him find his way back to the confidence that made him the talented driver he was.

I took a deep breath and dialed Jack’s number, my heart pounding a little faster than usual. The phone rang a few times before his voice crackled through the line, sounding more strained than I’d ever heard.

“Hey, you okay? I’m watching the Practice Session right now. ” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest.

Jack let out a heavy sigh on the other end. “I don’t know, honestly. Just… struggling. The car’s not right, the team’s on me, and I feel like I’m falling short. Every time I think I’m getting close, something goes wrong, and I don’t know how much more I can take of this."

His frustration was clear, and it made my stomach twist. I’d always known he had a tendency to be hard on himself, but hearing him speak like this… It was like hearing a piece of my heart crack.

“Jack,” I said, my voice more firm than I felt. “You’re not letting anyone down. Trust me, I know it feels like it’s all piling up right now, but this is just part of the journey. You can’t rush the process. It’s gonna be tough, but you have to keep pushing.”

There was a long pause, and I could almost feel him processing what I was saying. I knew he didn’t want to hear clichés, but I wasn’t going to let him spiral.

“I don’t know, y/n,” he muttered, sounding defeated. “The pressure just keeps getting to me, and it’s hard to stay focused when the results just aren’t there.”

I bit my lip, choosing my next words carefully. “Look, I get it. It’s easy to get caught up in the frustration, especially when you’re putting in everything you have and not seeing the results. But the setbacks? They’re just lessons. They’re gonna make you better. You’ve got to use them to push yourself forward, not let them hold you back."

He was quiet for a moment, and I heard the faint sound of a chuckle. It was a small sound, but it was enough to make me feel a little lighter.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he said, his tone softening. “I’ve been letting everything get to me more than I should. I needed someone to remind me of that.”

I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Anytime, Jack. You don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got more people rooting for you than you realize.”

He was quiet again, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “Thanks, Y/n,” he finally said, sounding a little more like himself. “I’m gonna take a break, reset a bit. I’ll get back at it tomorrow. I’ll figure it out.”

I let out a quiet breath, feeling a weight lift off me. “You’ve got this. Just take it one step at a time. Don’t let the pressure eat at you. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice lighter. “Talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah, talk soon,” I replied softly, a warm feeling settling in my chest.

I ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, letting the relief wash over me. Jack was going to be fine. I knew he would be. He just needed time to sort things out in his own way.

I glanced around the small drivers room I’d been staying in and grabbed my bag, the weight of everything still pressing down on me. The call had gone well. I’d said what he needed to hear. But now it was time to move on, to get ready for the next race, the next step in all of this. I couldn’t dwell too long on this moment.

I threw my comfy clothes on and headed toward the door, the familiar sense of purpose settling back into my chest. I wasn’t just Ghost in the car. I could be someone Jack needed, too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. With my helmet pulled back over my head,  I walked out of the room. 

Returning to the track the next day, I felt a surge of energy running through me. It was a fresh day, and I was determined to finish FP3 strong and carry that momentum straight into Qualifying. As I walked through the entrance of the paddock, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander, scanning the familiar surroundings. The excitement of race weekend always felt like a breath of fresh air.

My gaze quickly locked onto the unmistakable bright orange of McLaren team gear near their garage. And just like that, I spotted the one person I couldn’t help but feel a bit more drawn to than most. Oscar.

I quietly jogged over, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips beneath my helmet. Oscar spotted me almost instantly and without missing a beat, he made his way toward me, his own grin widening as our gaze met.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Oscar teased, his voice light but his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

I gave a mock, dramatic sigh as I stopped in front of him, adjusting my gloves as if I were trying to appear serious. “I had to make sure you weren’t getting too cocky after all the hype from yesterday.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly as if to whisper a secret. “You’re just jealous. I’m the one people are talking about now. You’re just... mysterious."

I raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Mysterious? Oh please, you just wish you had my level of intrigue.”

Oscar chuckled and shook his head, clearly enjoying the banter. “I mean, it does give you a certain… allure, I’ll admit. But I think people would be more interested if you started hinting at who you were.”

I rolled my eyes beneath the visor but couldn’t hide the grin. “You know I’ve got my own idea of when that's happening. Besides, someone’s gotta keep the mystery alive, right?”

“Fair enough,” he said, giving a dramatic shrug. “I’ll just have to settle for the occasional secret chat when no one’s watching.”

We both laughed, and I felt the familiar warmth of friendship and camaraderie wash over me. Sure, we were competitors on the track, but off it, it felt easy. It was moments like this that reminded me why I loved being part of this world.

“Alright, alright,” I said, raising a gloved hand in mock surrender. “I’ll let you have your fun, but only because you’ve been so charming this morning.”

Oscar’s eyes twinkled, clearly enjoying the friendly banter as he patted me on the shoulder. “Just wait until you see me on the grid. I’ll be the one turning heads this time.”

I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “We’ll see about that. But good luck, anyway.”

“Luck? Who needs luck when you've got talent?” Oscar shot back with a grin, giving me a wink before turning to head toward the McLaren garage.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, feeling lighter than I had in a while. Racing was intense, no doubt, but moments like these reminded me that it wasn’t all about the pressure—it was about the people you shared the track with.

I turned away from the McLaren garage, still feeling the lingering warmth of my conversation with Oscar. It was moments like those that reminded me I wasn’t entirely alone in this sport. But as I walked toward my own garage, that light feeling slowly faded, replaced by the usual tension that came with being in this space.

Stepping inside, I immediately noticed Franco standing near one of the engineers, engaged in a discussion about setup changes for FP3. Normally, I would have ignored it, heading straight to my driver’s room without a second thought. But something about him caught my attention today.

His expression.

It wasn’t sharp, wasn’t full of frustration or disdain like it usually was when our eyes happened to meet. Instead, there was… nothing. No irritation, no biting remarks waiting on the tip of his tongue. His face was calm—indifferent, even. It was such a stark contrast to what I had grown used to that it almost made me stop in my tracks.

For a brief second, I wondered if I should say something. A passing comment, a joke, maybe even a simple nod of acknowledgment. But just as quickly as the thought appeared, I shoved it away. Whatever had shifted in him, it wasn’t my concern.

Without a word, I walked past him, heading straight toward my driver’s room. I swore I felt his eyes on me as I passed, but I didn’t turn back to check.

Once inside, I shut the door behind me and exhaled. The quiet hum of the room wrapped around me, offering a brief sense of isolation from everything outside. I moved toward my locker, taking a moment to center myself before I started gearing up for FP3.

Whatever’s going on with Franco, it’s not my problem.

I had bigger things to focus on.

—

FP3 had been exactly what I needed—a confidence boost. The car felt dialed in, my times were consistent, and for the first time this weekend, I felt like I was fully in control. Every sector clicked, every adjustment I made felt natural, and by the end of the session, the data confirmed what I already knew.

I was fast.

Faster than I had been all weekend. Fast enough to believe that making it into Q3 wasn’t just a hope, but an expectation. My engineers were optimistic, the team was behind me, and even Diego had radioed in after the session, sounding genuinely excited about my pace.

"Keep this up, and you’ll be right in the fight today."

That was the goal. I was determined to deliver.

Now, sitting in my car during Q1, the world around me had faded into tunnel vision. My focus was razor-sharp, locked in on the track ahead as I pushed through my first flying lap. The tires were warming up well, grip levels felt solid, and every input I made was instinctual. The car responded exactly how I wanted, allowing me to carry more speed through the corners without hesitation.

This was it. The kind of feeling every driver chased—the harmony between man and machine.

But just as I was settling into that rhythm, my wandering thoughts were abruptly cut off.

Jack.

I spotted him in my mirrors first, then again just ahead as he threw his car aggressively into a corner. Too aggressively. His Alpine twitched under braking, barely catching itself before he powered out of the turn.

I frowned. That wasn’t like him.

Lap after lap, he was reckless, pushing way too hard, taking risks that didn’t make sense this early in qualifying. It wasn’t just a normal push for pace—there was an edge to it, a desperation woven into his driving. He wasn’t being smart about it, and that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

And he wasn’t just fighting the track—he was fighting me.

I could see it in the way he defended, in the way he positioned his car in places that forced me to either back off or take the risk alongside him. Even when I wasn’t on a hot lap, he was making it difficult for me, as if he had something to prove.

To himself. To Alpine. To the entire grid.

And suddenly, I understood.

He was still chasing those first points. Three races in, and he hadn’t been able to put himself in a position to fight for them. Alpine had been struggling, his contract was in the air, and the pressure was mounting with each passing weekend.

He needed a result today, no matter what it took.

But if he kept this up? He was going to get himself into trouble.

Or worse—drag me into it with him.

"Diego, what’s Doohan doing? He’s driving like his life depends on this lap." My voice was calm, but there was an underlying concern I couldn’t shake.

There was a short pause before my engineer responded, his voice even. "We see it too. Just stay smart, you’re on a good time. Don’t get caught up in his mess."

Easier said than done.

I gritted my teeth as Jack lunged into the next turn, right as I was about to commit to the racing line. I had to adjust mid-corner, costing me a couple of tenths, and frustration flared in my chest.

"Come on, Jack…" I muttered under my breath.

I knew he was better than this. He didn’t need to drive like a man on the edge. He had the talent, the control—I’d seen it firsthand. But right now, that wasn’t what was driving him. It was something deeper, something clawing at him from inside.

I needed to be careful. If he kept up this aggressive approach, something was bound to go wrong.

And I couldn’t afford to be collateral damage.

Q1 wrapped up with a sigh of relief as my name remained above the cutoff line. I had made it through to Q2—barely. Jack had scraped through as well, his last-minute lap just quick enough to put him through. But the way he had fought for it? It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t calculated.

And it wasn’t over.

As Q2 began, I focused on my out lap, taking deep breaths to steady my mind. Jack had been reckless in Q1, but maybe now, with fewer cars on track and the pressure slightly eased, he would dial it back.

I was wrong.

The aggression was still there—worse, even.

Jack was everywhere. Blocking unnecessarily, moving unpredictably, throwing his car into corners as if I wasn’t even there. It was dangerous. He wasn’t just fighting for track position; he was fighting everything—the car, the circumstances, himself.

I was setting up for my push lap, giving myself space before the final sector when I saw him in my mirrors again. Too close. Too erratic.

"Ghost, be mindful of Doohan—he’s on a push lap." Diego’s voice was steady, but I could hear the edge of concern.

"Yeah, I know," I gritted out. "But he’s being a fucking menace right now."

I was about to back off slightly, let him go, when I saw the move coming—too late.

Jack dove down the inside at a speed that was never going to stick.

My heart jumped as my instincts took over. I tried to avoid him, turning wider to give space, but his rear snapped mid-corner. There was a split second of helplessness—nothing I could do, nowhere I could go.

The impact was violent.

The back of his Alpine clipped the front of my car, unsettling me at the worst possible moment. My tires lost all grip, and suddenly, I was a passenger. My car spun wildly, the world turning into a blur of colors and motion as I fought to regain control—but the speed was too high, and the barriers were too close.

I braced.

The moment of impact rattled my entire body. The left side of my car slammed into the Tecpro barrier, the force jarring through me. My head snapped forward against the restraints, my hands gripping the wheel instinctively even as the shock reverberated through my arms. Sparks flew, debris scattered, and the car jolted to a stop, leaving me pressed against the side of the cockpit, my heart pounding.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing, harsh and uneven.

Then, Diego’s voice cut through. "Ghost, talk to me."

I pressed my head back against the seat, letting out a shaky breath.

I felt… okay. Nothing immediately hurt. Whether that was the adrenaline talking, I wasn’t sure, but I could move, I could think, and my vision wasn’t spinning. But I couldn’t speak—not yet. Not without risking the voice changer.

Instead, I used the failsafe we had set up.

My fingers found the pit confirm button on my steering wheel—two quick taps, a pause, then one more tap.

All okay.

There was a beat of silence before Diego responded. "Copy. Marshals are coming. Just sit tight."

I exhaled, trying to process everything. The replay was already playing on the big screens, and as I glanced up, I saw exactly what had happened.

Jack.

That fucking idiot.

He had completely ruined both of our laps. His car was limping in the runoff area, his best time now meaningless as yellow flags had been thrown in the final sector. My crash had messed up the track conditions, ensuring nobody else could improve before the session ended.

I was out. He was out.

And I was going to kill him.

I unclipped my harness as the marshals arrived, waving them off as they tried to help. I climbed out of the car myself, ignoring the stiffness in my muscles, and threw my arms up in frustration before stomping toward the escape road.

This was my chance. My first real shot at making it to Q3. And Jack had taken it from me.

I had sacrificed so much for him—so many years spent in the shadows so he could have the spotlight. And this was what I got in return?

By the time I reached the medical car, my hands were shaking—not from the crash, but from anger.

I didn’t care what bullshit excuse Jack had.

The moment I got back to the pit lane, I was going to let him have it.

The ride back to the pit lane was quiet.

I stared out the window, my arms folded across my chest, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away. The anger had dulled, no longer the white-hot fire it had been when I first climbed out of the wreckage. Now, all that remained was exhaustion and something else—something I hadn't noticed at first.

Pain.

At first, I thought it was just the stiffness that followed every big hit, but as I shifted in my seat, a sharp, pulsing ache spread through my side. Not just soreness. Something deeper.

Great.

Diego’s voice had already crackled over the radio, telling me to check in with the medical team the second I got back. I hadn't argued. I could walk fine, and I hadn't blacked out, but something definitely wasn’t right.

As soon as the car pulled into the paddock, I unbuckled and climbed out, biting down the wince as I straightened up. I took a deep breath and turned toward the medical tent, ignoring the curious looks from team members and journalists nearby.

I just needed to get through the checkup. Then I could deal with everything else.

But apparently, the universe had other plans.

I barely made it five steps before Jack Doohan was in front of me.

He wasn’t just walking toward me—he was storming.

His eyes were blazing, his jaw tight, and before I could brace for impact, he was right in my space.

"What the hell was that?!" he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs around us. "You completely ruined my lap! I had one shot to get through, and you—"

I closed my eyes for half a second, inhaling deeply.

"Jack." My voice was calm. Too calm. I wasn’t about to do this here, not when we were both still full of adrenaline and frustration. "We should talk later, when we’re actually thinking straight."

I tried to move past him, but he stepped in my way.

"Oh, so now you want to be rational?" he scoffed, arms thrown up. "After you wrecked and took me out with you? I needed that lap, Ghost!"

I clenched my jaw, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to keep myself from snapping.

"And you think I didn’t?" I asked, voice still steady. "Jack, I was on for Q3 today. This was my best shot at a points start, and now I’m out. But I’m not standing here blaming you, because—"

"Maybe you should." His voice was bitter. "Because I guarantee you, this was your fault. If you had just held your line, I—"

I let out a sharp laugh—one that wasn’t amused in the slightest.

"If I had held my line?" My calm shattered, fury creeping back in. I took a step forward, forcing him to meet my visor. "Jack, I saw what you were doing. I knew you were being reckless, and I gave you space because I didn’t want to crash. More than I didn’t want to ruin your lap, I didn’t want us both to end up in the wall. But guess what? You still managed to make that happen."

Jack’s mouth opened, but I didn’t let him speak.

"You think I don’t know what you’re going through?" My voice rose, frustration bubbling over. "You think I don’t understand what it’s like to fight for a seat, to feel the pressure of proving you deserve to be here? I do, Jack. More than you fucking know."

His expression flickered, something breaking through the anger for just a second. But I wasn’t done.

"I get it," I continued, shaking my head. "I get that Alpine has been screwing you over. I get that every race feels like a fight for survival. But this?" I gestured back toward the track. "This is not the way to prove yourself. Being reckless, making desperate moves—this isn’t going to convince anyone you deserve that seat. It’s only going to prove them right if they think you’re not ready."

Jack’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his anger still simmering, but there was doubt creeping into his eyes now.

"You don’t—"

"Yes, I do," I interrupted, my voice softer now, but no less intense. "You’re a damn good driver, Jack. But if you keep driving like this, you won’t just lose your seat—you’ll lose the respect of the people watching. You’ll lose the people who believe in you."

I took a steadying breath, my grip tightening at my sides.

"You think I don’t understand what it’s like to have people doubt you? I started in Formula E and IndyCar when I was barely more than a kid. Nobody thought I deserved those seats. They called me a risk, said I was too young, too inexperienced, that I was only there because of politics or sponsorships. But I didn’t prove them wrong by throwing myself into reckless moves. I didn’t try to force my way into respect—I earned it. I showed them that I belonged, that I had the skill to back up my place on the grid."

Jack’s expression wavered, the fire in his eyes dimming just slightly as my words sank in.

"That’s what you need to do," I continued, my voice unwavering. "Not by desperate lunges or risky blocks, but by proving to everyone—your team, the other drivers, the fans—that you deserve to be here. And you can’t do that if you’re too busy fighting the wrong battles."

For the first time since this argument started, he didn’t have a response.

He just stood there, staring at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

I exhaled, the last of my fight leaving me, replaced once again by exhaustion. I adjusted my suit slightly, trying to ease the growing discomfort in my side.

"Look," I said, voice lower now. "I need to go get checked out. We can talk later, when we’re both thinking clearly."

Jack swallowed, still tense, but he gave a slow nod.

I didn’t wait for anything else. I turned and continued toward the medical tent, each step reminding me that something was definitely wrong.

But I had said what I needed to say.

And judging by the look on Jack’s face as I walked away, I knew it had hit exactly where it needed to.

The medical tent was colder than I expected, the harsh white lights overhead making everything feel too clinical, too still—like a place I shouldn’t be. I sat stiffly on the exam table, fingers gripping the edge as Nico stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning for any unwanted intrusions. He had already made sure only one doctor would see me, someone willing to sign an NDA, ensuring that my identity remained a secret.

It wasn’t long before a nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand, a calm but no-nonsense expression on her face. “I’ll be your designated medical contact for the season,” she said, voice even, eyes flicking between me and Nico. “I’ve been briefed on the situation, and I’ve signed what’s needed. Now, let’s get this done.”

I gave a curt nod and let her do her job, staying silent as she pressed carefully along my ribs. Each touch sent sharp, burning pain through my side, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. When she reached the worst of it, I inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

She sighed, setting down her clipboard. “Cracked ribs,” she confirmed, shaking her head. “Not the worst I’ve seen, but bad enough. I highly recommend you don’t drive for the rest of the weekend.”

I stiffened at that, already shaking my head before she could finish. “No.”

Her brows furrowed. “Ghost, be serious—”

“I am serious.” I met her gaze with unshakable resolve. “I can’t risk sitting out this early in the season. If it gets worse, I’ll deal with it then, but for now? Say nothing. Clear me.”

The nurse let out a long breath, clearly not thrilled with my stubbornness. But then she glanced at Nico, who remained silent, his expression unreadable, before looking back at me.

“Fine,” she relented. “But only under one condition.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Which is?”

“You follow a set of rules any time you’re off-track. No unnecessary movement, no overexertion, no lifting anything heavy. If I see you wincing or struggling outside of the car, we’re done. I will pull you.” She paused, voice softening just slightly. “I’m giving you a chance here, Ghost. Don’t make me regret it.”

I exhaled, biting back the protest that sat on my tongue. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a compromise I could live with.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Deal.”

The nurse nodded, scribbling something on the clipboard before stepping back. “Then you’re cleared. But don’t push your luck.”

Nico finally spoke up from his post by the door. “She’ll be careful,” he said, though there was an unmistakable edge to his voice that told me he wasn’t convinced.

I hopped off the table with only a slight wince, rolling my shoulders as I looked at him. “Come on, Rosberg. Let’s get out of here before someone starts asking too many questions.”

He gave me one last assessing look before nodding. “Let’s go.”

As Nico and I walked through the paddock, my thoughts drifted to Jack. What would he be like if he knew the truth? If he knew the driver he had just crashed into, the one he had stormed at in a rage, was actually his little sister?

I could picture it too easily—the hesitation, the guilt. Jack had always been protective, even when we were younger, even when he tried to act like he wasn’t. If he knew he was racing against me, he’d be too careful, too cautious. He’d hold back in battles, refuse to take risks, and in this sport, that was a death sentence. His chances at proving himself, at keeping his seat, would slip away. I couldn’t let that happen.

This was why he couldn’t know. Not yet.

When we finally made it back to my garage, I let myself wince as I moved, knowing that with my helmet still on, no one could see the pained grimace crossing my face. The adrenaline was fading now, and the ache in my ribs was creeping in, reminding me of the damage done.

One of the engineers came over, relaying what I already knew. “The crash put both you and Doohan in P14 and P15 for tomorrow. As long as nothing on your car needs replacing that would earn a penalty, that’s where you’ll start.”

I gave a small nod, unfazed. I had seen the aftermath on the screens before heading to medical—I knew where I was starting.

The garage buzzed with activity as people came and went, but eventually, I was left alone for a moment. I exhaled, letting my body relax ever so slightly, shutting my eyes behind the visor as I let the pain settle into something I could compartmentalize.

Then, the soft sound of something being placed in front of me pulled me out of it.

I opened my eyes and looked down. A small snack and a bottle of water sat on the table in front of me.

I frowned slightly and looked up, following the movement of the person who had left it there. Franco.

He was already turning away, walking off before I could say anything. But just before he disappeared from view, I caught the smallest shift in his expression—the slightest crease in his brows, the hint of something lingering in his eyes. Worry.

And then, just like that, he was gone. Not a word spoken.

I stared after him for a moment before shifting my gaze back to the water and snack, something unreadable settling in my chest. Then, without a word, I reached forward and picked them up.

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp

[thegoodwitchsworld]

Can I request 40s Bucky crushing on a nurse?? <3 TY!!!

WAIT FOR ME

Warnings angst, fluff, idk what else.

A/N- Thank you for the lovely ask anon, I hope you like this one :)

You miss him. You miss him so much.

Bucky, who asked you out six month ago, and whom you've been dating ever since. And he's the sweetest, kindest man you've ever met, and he looks at you like you hung up the stars and the sun in his skies.

But you still haven't slept with him yet.

Not that he's been pressuring you at all. He's a real man after all- he just kisses you softly and sweetly at the end of every date, and to be very honest you've had dates almost every day since one month. Then he lingers at your bedroom door, smiling sweetly and flirting shamelessly while you nervously play with your hair, turning redder by the minute.

But you never invite him in, and he never asks.

It's not that you don't want him. Of course you do. And so does he. You see the way he looks at you sometimes, as if he would like to rip off your blouse, slam you down on whatever nearest surface is available, and fuck at least ten babies inside you.

It makes your heart stutter. And your panties a mess.

But you can't. You just can't. The risks are too high.

.

.

.

"Robert! We need more gauze here! 2 gunshot wounds!", you shout for help as you kneel beside the wounded man, pressing your fingers into his bleeding abdomen, making him wince.

"How are you doing soldier? I need you to stay awake for me, ok?" You tell the handsome man, whose face is caked with mud and crusted blood.

He jolts as if out of a dream, then slowly grins.

"Doll," he says in an unmistakable Brooklyn accent.

"I'm gonna marry you."

That was the first time you met Bucky. You were used to soldiers flirting with you, but the way HE said it made your heart turn somersaults on the sidewalk.

You blush deeply, turning away from him and signaling Gary and Mark to carry him to the medical camp, before turning back around.

"You should save your energy soldier," you tell him more quietly, a smile threatening your stiff demeanor.

"You can call me Bucky doll," he grins. "Or anything else that fancies your pretty mind".

His wink makes your heart skip a beat, but you roll your eyes for show.

"And you can call me never," you smirk as he blows you a kiss before being carried away on the stretcher.

.

.

He's sleeping when you return to the temporary shed the military has set up, a few miles away from the actual battle site.

He looks peaceful, and so, so beautiful. You feel tears pricking your eyes as you think about the dreadful fates of many of these soldiers.

He stirs in his sleep, his expression growing more troubled. You realise he must be having a bad dream. You lean over him, sitting at the edge of the bed, smoothing his forehead softly with your palm.

It's okay, you tell him. You're okay.

His eyes slowly blink open. It takes him a minute, but when he realizes it's you, he breaks into another one of his heartwarming grins.

"It's you, my angel!" He exclaims.

"You were having a bad dream, " you look at him gently.

He smiles softer now, looking into your eyes.

"That's because I dreamt I asked you out, and you said no."

You blush and smile at his cheekiness, shaking your head in mock annoyance as you turn away to tend to another patient.

His hand on your wrist makes you stop.

"Stay. Please."

His voice is raw with emotion now. You're surprised for a moment, before you gently unclasp his grasp.

"Sleep, soldier." You softly cup his cheek. "I'll be here when you wake up."

That was 6 months ago. He was so injured the military forced him to take rest. And you were so grateful. The day he got discharged, he took you out on your first date to a diner in New York. He was chivalrous and kind and funny, and he told you a million times how much he loved you.

And you couldn't say it back even once.

You touch your hair and smoothen your dress one last time. Bucky's going to be here any minute. You both decided to stay in tonight, his last day before he's shipped off to battle tomorrow.

When the bell rings, you fly down the stairs two at a time and open the door to rush into his arms.

"Whoa," he chuckles. "Somebody was really excited to see me huh?"

You don't bother replying as you bury your nose in his leather jacket, inhaling his scent so that you can fill your lungs with him. His arms wrap around you tight, crushing you against his chest.

When you finally lean back and kiss him, he chuckles as he lifts you up and carries you inside.

"If you had your way doll, you'd keep me standing on the doorway kissing you forever," he teases you.

if you had your way, you would never let him leave. But you don't tell him that.

instead, you just say, "I cooked for you, soldier".

Bucky smiles and pulls you into his lap, kissing every inch of bare skin he can find.

"You're so good to me doll," he tells you. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

.

.

.

"you're so good to me doll," Bucky grins as you gently wipe his face clean of sweat and dust. You smirk at him, rolling your eyes.

"I do this for everyone, soldier", you tell him.

"Yeah, but only I am going to marry you," he says with complete confidence that both turns you on and makes you blush and giggle like a schoolgirl.

He always calls you doll, because "You have eyes like a doll, and you wear clothes like a doll, and you look like a doll..."

"Shut up soldier", you'd blush and swat at his chest playfully, and he always catches your hand in his kissing your fingers softly with that look on his face, daring you to try and deny him what's his.

And you always call him soldier.

You both lie quietly on the couch after dinner, you on top of him, his fingers carding through your curls gently. You play with his dog tags, and he keeps kissing you every few minutes. The radio plays somewhere, a sweet love song.

"What are you thinking, doll?" He asks you quietly, stroking your soft cheek.

"Nothing," you reply. Only that you'll leave me tomorrow.

"Liar", he tells you, kissing your nose. "I'll tell you what i am thinking. When i come home the next time, I am gonna put a ring on your finger and at least ten babies in your belly. And we are gonna be husband and wife and we will grow old together and-"

"Stop soldier," you whisper, putting a finger on his lips, which he promptly starts nibbling, making you giggle before you recompose yourself.

"I am serious though. Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring," you continue softly.

"No, but mine lies with you," he says, his eyes glinting with a determination that scares you.

You both fall asleep that way. You still don't invite him to your bed, and he still doesnt ask.

The next morning he leaves for his mission. You wonder if it's odd that when he kisses you he tastes of desire and longing and promises, when all you can feel is regret and fear and apprehension. You hide your tears behind your polka-dotted handkerchief, waving to him as he boards the ship. He gets on, then runs back to you quickly for a brief moment, dipping you back in his arms and kissing you one last time.

"Wait for me, doll," he winks.

.

.

.

.

3 years later

War has ended, but its remnants hang in the air still, like the smell of cheap perfume in an elevator long after its wearer has left. The streets are full of men who are suddenly too many, and the jobs too few. Women try to keep up with their old jobs and their newly returned husbands. And your hospital is full of patients, some of them severely disfigured. But everything is much more cheerful now, because people have hope for a better tomorrow.

That is, everyone except you.

You lean over the young man, wiping his arm softly with wet cotton before you plunge an injection in it.

"Nurse Y/N?"

You turn around to find Mary, your colleague at the end of the bed. She walks over to you, taking the injection from your hand.

"I'll handle this," she cheerfully tells you. "You go take a break."

You're slightly confused, but you shrug and thank her and walk to the next patient.

"Doll?"

The familiar voice calls out to you.

You stop dead in your tracks, before slowly turning around to face him. Your hands are already trembling. And it's him.

Your soldier.

Your Bucky.

He looks older. And he has a metal arm..? And his face looks rougher and darker and unshaven. And he's the most beautiful man you have ever seen. Your body reacts to him before your brain can process the shock, so you run and throw yourself into his arms and then burst into tears a second later.

I love you Bucky, you whisper over and over. I love you.

They told me you were dead.

His fingers grip your waist as if he's clutching at a lifejacket. His arms crush you to his chest, and his tears soak your neck.

"I love you too, my angel," his voice cracks.

"I love you so much."

After an eternity of trying to fill your lungs with each other, you both finally let go, only slightly. You will never be able to stand being too far away from him again. And you know he's rough and broken right now, but you will help him smoothen the jagged ends and light up the dark places inside.

Then Bucky gets down on one knee with a ring in his hand, and you don't even bother to look at it before you crash your lips into his.

And now he tastes like marriage and ten kids and growing old together.

You get married the very next hour, and when Bucky carries you over the threshold in his arms, you dont have to invite him to your bedroom. And he doesn't ask.

You're his now and he's yours.

In this life and the next.

[im-so-tired-sorry]

Can you please write about how traveler and katsuki has their first kiss?

Like it's night and kirishima has went to sleep with traveler on the edge of falling asleep and katsuki wide awake, traveler thinks something is wrong with katsuki so they ckeck on him and they talk for a bit. A few minutes into the talk traveler and katsuki randomly starts to talk about deep topics for example being kiddnaped by hawks or smth like that.

Katsuki comforts the traveler and then the traveler just quickly leans in for a kids without a warning or hesitation. Katsuki gets flustered when the traveler pulls from the kiss but his eyes softens before himself leaning for another kiss.

The next morning while they pack kirishima cant figure out why traveler and katsuki seems so shy around each other.

Sorry if this was too much to ask!

Love your stories btw❤️❤️

omg i’m so excited that this is my first ask!!!! so sorry if this is bad but i tried my best lmao ty for the love 🫶 i hope i did your request justice.

A/n: based off the Kiribaku fantasy series by Yuzuya on YT. it follows the world building and lore of that series. and for the sake of this ask, this piece will primarily be about Bakugo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I will always save you

fantasy!Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader

All that could be heard from inside the tent were the leaves subtly blowing in the wind, a bird quietly singing a midnight sonnet, and Kirishima's light snoring from right behind you. You were on the brink of falling asleep before Kirishima adjusted his sleeping position and draped his arm over you, not only startling you from your sleeping trance but now added a weight to your side. But if you weren't more awake, you wouldn't have picked up the rustling of the tent fablic or how the moonlight shone on you for a moment before the tent's flap opening closed again.

That's what made you open your eyes to see that no one else was in the tent besides the crimson dragon. No blonde barbarian prince to be seen. You look towards the small opening in the tent cloth to see Bakugo sitting outside. It was odd considering how much he valued getting enough sleep before traveling days. The suspicion has you grab Kirishima's arm and move it off of you before getting up to join the blonde.

The night air was cool, with a cold front not too far behind. The more north the group travels, the colder the weather will become. Bakugo decided that the edge of a small forest upon a hill that overlooked an iced lake was the location to camp that night. It was his view as he sat at the end of the hill, by the fire that had been put out not too long ago.

"Got space for one more?" You ask as you approach.

"It's not like I can stop you from comin' over." Bakugo turns his head to catch you walking from the corner of his eye before turning back to the lake.

"You say that like i'm unwanted."

"Well you weren't invited."

“Ouch.” You say plopping down next to him and clutching at your heart for his hurtful words.

“Sorry,” he grumbles, “just frustrated ‘cause I can’t sleep.”

"Well... how come?"

Bakugo thinks to himself for a moment before rolling his eyes and scoffing.

“I had a nightmare last night. And now my stupid brain won’t let me sleep.”

This could've been a moment to tease him, but when would be the next time he decides to be vulnerable? You turn more towards him and ask,

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

You sit quietly for a moment, for maybe a minute or two, before thinking. Maybe you should be vulnerable first so he can be more comfortable.

“When Hawks kidnapped me, there was one night I had a nightmare. We were in Hadera. And when the ghoul spiders came down, I ran. I ran without giving a second thought ‘cause I was just… so scared. Kirishima called my name, you called my name, but I didn’t turn back. Then I heard you and Kirishima scream, and I knew you guys were being captured. The worst part of it all was that even though I was crying, that I was yelling ‘no’, I was still running… running like a coward. When I woke up the next morning, Hawks said I was sleep talking; that I was actually saying ‘no’ repeatedly.”

You look down at your fidgeting hands play with your nails. You couldn’t help but blush at the warmth of Bakugo’s finger as he brushed off the single tear that fell onto your cheek.

After pulling away, Bakugo looks back at the view and rolls his eyes again but it didn’t seem to be out of malice, more like out of annoyance for himself. He sits up and starts,

“We were traveling across the Yonara sea again, on the pirate’s boat. You were entranced by the siren’s song and I had just gotten out of our cabin. I ran to you… but I didn’t catch you. You fell.

I saw your face right before you hit the water. It’s like… at the last second you snapped back to reality. And your eyes… your eyes said it all. They said ‘this is where it ends. and you couldn’t save me.’ That look on your face is what scared me awake.”

“Oh… Katsuki-“

“I can’t bare the thought of you being in danger. And I feel like… almost every time we’re in a situation of danger, it’s because I got us there somehow. “

“And you have always saved me!” You are fully turned towards him now, cupping his jaw to have him face you. “These dreams… they’re based off our fear of losing each other. But in reality, we know we have each other’s backs.”

Putting a hand on your waist, Katsuki slightly leans in and quietly whispers,

“I will always save you.”

You throw him a teasing grin.

“Promise?”

You felt your cheeks blush all the way to your ears as he takes a quick glance at your lips before going back to eye contact and nodding.

“Promise.”

You hadn’t noticed that you were leaning into each other before you placed your lips on his. The quickness of closing the gap slightly startled you, but the constant tension of Katsuki’s figure is what advised you to pull away. Looking at his face, he is slightly wide eyed, with a pink glow forming across his face. But then his eyes relaxed and his shoulders dropped.

“I… am so sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

You had no time to react as Katsuki cups your face and kisses you; a deep, romantic kiss that immediately invites you to kiss back. It’s a tender moment, one with no rush. The warmth of his lips sends shivers through your arms and down your spine. Time might as well have stopped to allow this moment to exist in peace.

When you both pull away, your lips are slightly grazing, allowing you to breath each others’ air. You stay like that for a moment as you touch foreheads, saying nothing and letting the moment linger in the winter air. Finally, Katsuki speaks,

“We should… we should head in for the night.”

You take a beat, still catching your breath, before nodding, and being the first to get up and head for the tent. That night you lay back into your spot by Kirishima, and Katsuki lays beside you. He touches your forehead with his once more before snuggling up for you to fall asleep.

—————

The next morning, you woke up to Kirishima and Katsuki bickering about who would have to carry what on the next day of their journey. As funny as their squabble was, you couldn’t help but be distracted recounting last night’s events in your mind. Figuring out what the kiss meant and how that would affect the journey and the relationships of the group was something that needed a lot of thought and mature conversations. But that could be put off for another time when they weren’t in such a rush to get back on the road to the alter.

Breakfast was quiet other than the birds singing a morning lullaby and Kirishima happily enjoying his meal. Quick glances with Katsuki would result in immediate blushes and looking away. And as much as you tried to be subtle about it, Kirishima started to catch a pattern in both of your behaviors.

“Did I miss something?” Kirishima finally asks, shifting his eyes between you and Katsuki.

You look up from your rations and try to put on your most oblivious look, “What do you mean?”

“You both are acting…weird”

“Nothing’s weird shitty scales! Just… finish your breakfast and help me pack the tent” Katsuki exclaims, getting up and walking away to pack the bags. Kirishima gains a confused look for the prince’s yell+pink face combo before slowly shifting a side eye in your direction.

“I’ll tell you later.” You whisper at the dragon with a small smirk on your face. Kirishima’s eyes widen as a grin appears on his face as if his suspicions had been confirmed.

After breakfast, you all pack your bags and set off to continue your adventure to the mountains. While walking and thinking to yourself, you couldn’t decide what you were afraid of more: the challenges you have yet to face on this journey or the fact the whatever you have with Bakugo would only last until the end of the year-long journey and you inevitably go home to your world.

As much as your fears worried you, the fact was that you weren’t alone. You had a dragon with a determination to keep his promise to get you home and a barbarian who would do anything to protect you, even if it started by telling you to “hurry up” as you slightly trailed behind, and called you a “slowpoke” with a grin on his face.

You knew that no creature or monster would come close to hurting you with Katsuki by your side. You knew, no matter what, you would be safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 06.

saturday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 04. | part 05. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: mentions of IKEA, awkwardness, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~2.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should ꕥ a/n: hi guys! thank you so much for reading my work. i just wanted to apologise for the shorter chapter and that it took longer to update than usual. i was planning to post this originally around valentine's day but university started and things got a tiny bit busy. [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

Pouring salt and lemon juice on an open wound would’ve felt like a walk in the park compared to asking for any kind of help or favour. You always handled everything independently and on your own way. You were ready to drop everything on the spot and lend a hand to those who asked but always made sure to deal with your problems by yourself. Among other things, this aspect of yours was a mixture of stubbornness and pride.

So, imagine how embarrassed you felt on that sunny Saturday morning, with your phone pressed to your ears as you anxiously waited for your call to be answered. It’s so dumb, they just got back from the case yesterday. I should hang…

“Hey pretty girl, what’s up?” Derek’s usual playful tone cut through your thoughts, stopping you from pressing the little red icon. You were relieved that you weren’t the one to wake him or at least judging by the lack of raspiness in his tone, he was already up.

“Are you perhaps… free today?” you asked as you quickly paced back and forth in your unusually empty bedroom. One of your cats, who was still very much a kitten, energetically chased after your feet, causing you to come across even less collected, since you had to look out for the little furball too if you didn’t want to accidentally step on him.

“For a woman like you, I’m always free.” Hummed the man at the other end of the line, immediately easing your nerves a bit. You rolled your eyes and let a playful smile spread across your face, which was wiped off just as quickly.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake Nick...!” before you could’ve said anything else, like probably an explanation for why you were calling your colleague, a low scream escaped your lips. “Sorry, my cat is just devil’s incarnate, and he decided it’d be fun to claw his way up on my bare legs.”

“For a moment I got scared that it wasn’t really me you were looking for.”

“Impossible, you know you’re always on my mind, handsome.”

You learned quite early on that Derek’s flirty demeanour was part of his personality and it was never serious when it came to the team. Even in amongst you, he knew that not everyone was open to suggestive comments or playful dirty talk. He made sure to never make anyone feel uncomfortable. Luckily, you were completely okay with this and even became a ‘partner in crime’.

“Okay, out with it. Why did you call?”

“Ah, I need a favour. I know you guys just came home yesterday and it’s totally okay if you say no…”

“Babygirl, I don’t even know what to say no to.”

“Yeah right, sorry. I need to buy a new bed because my last one was older than me and a few weeks ago it decided to end its life, which I can understand. So, I’ve been sleeping on the sofa. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it sleeping. And I know that I am even funnier when I’m sleep deprived but now that I’ll soon be back in action, it’d be nice to be well rested, you know. And yes, I could just walk into an IKEA, choose a bed and ask for a delivery, but…” You were definitely rambling and overexplaining yourself, as you did whenever you got flustered or felt awkward. Just like when you gave Reid a gift, you still haven’t recovered from that. The others quickly got used to this, given that they already had a yapper in their company. However, it didn’t mean you weren’t self-conscious if you noticed what you were doing.

“Let me stop you right there. You need help with taking home and putting together a bed, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in an hour, but I’m bringing help. These muscles can do a hella lot of things but getting a whole bed to the 7th floor is different.”

“Of course. Thank you, Derek.”

After the call ended, you stood in one place in the middle of your room, trying to calm yourself down, contemplating your life. Asking for a favour shouldn’t make you feel like you’re being hunted for sport. But it did, especially since it included one of your co-workers.

Originally, you planned on getting this done with your brothers, but both were out of the country for two more weeks. You’ve read so many past case files where it later turned out that the UnSubs were previously in one of the BAU member’s homes as maintenance workers or something similar that it made you a tiny bit paranoid. This is one of the reasons why you preferred to fix everything you could by yourself. It was to avoid letting unknown people into your flat. You weren’t that worried about Morgan’s unfamiliar friend though, given that you completely trusted the profiler.

Well, colour you surprised when an hour later as you hopped into the backseat of the black Range Rover Autobiography, you were met with passenger princess Spencer Reid.

“Oh… Hi.” your voice got awkwardly high-pitched. You avoided looking at him both directly and through the rear-view mirror. You weren’t quite prepared for this scenario. It was bad enough that the anxiety caused by being afraid of becoming a nuisance for Derek filled your entire body, now Dr Asshole was there too. And you appreciated the help, you really did. But now this also meant that the man with whom you had an indefinable relationship will enter your home. The home, which was so obviously, undeniably you. It was almost like a piece of your bare soul on display both in a good and bad way.

��Hi.”

“So, IKEA?” clarified Derek before things could’ve gotten even more uncomfortable.

“Yes. I already chose which one I’d like so I won’t be taking up much of your time, promise,” you said and as proof, you held up your phone, with the website open and the specific furniture on the screen.

“Oh, Tonstad was mentioned in a travel brochure I’ve read a few years ago when I was looking for places to visit.” After Spencer took a glance at your phone, his eyes almost literally lit up. He enthusiastically explained what the name of the chosen bedframe and mattress meant. His hands were just as expressive as his mouth. It was sweet, how he probably wasn’t aware the constant movement of his fingers. “It’s a little Norwegian village and was the administrative centre of the old municipality of Tonstad from 1905 until its dissolution in 1960. In 1960, it became the part of Sirdal, and it continued to be the administrative centre there.”

Weirdly, his slightly rambling, lengthy explanation somewhat put you at ease. It was one of those rare moments when his facts weren’t undermining your professional ideas and theories. These facts were simply just facts, it was interesting listening to them, and he was able to keep your attention so much so, that you didn’t even notice how curiously you stared at him.

However, he did. Since you had no reason to use contact lenses on an early Saturday when you weren’t working, those damned glasses were on you again. The sight basically magnetized his gaze to your face through the rear-view mirror, automatically triggering the memory of his weird dream about you from a few weeks before.

For a quick, passing moment he became annoyed. The genius didn’t quite understand why a simple object, invented around the 13th century—with its precursors dated back to the Eastern Han Dynasty in China—had such an effect on him. Spectacles have been around for a few hundred years now, it was quite literally a basic, everyday necessity for almost half the population. At times even he himself had to wear it. So then, why in the hells did you have this weird, unexplainable effect on him? It wasn’t fair, how you were able to cause a ruckus in his extraordinary brain without even trying.

Much to his dismay, he was very well aware how you looked at him from behind. The way the Sun shined on your irises captivated him. All your attention was his. And he had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that he very much liked this.

×××

“Is it okay if I let out my cats now?” you asked the men in your bedroom that got cluttered and chaotic rather quickly. They were in the midst of putting your bed together, however, it didn’t go as smoothly as they planned. Derek wanted to use a simple thing, called common sense, and build the bedframe how it seemed right while Reid insisted on strictly following the manual which he already read and memorised word for word. On top of that, they didn’t let you help them, not even a tiny bit. The one thing that both agreed on was that you’re not going to do anything physically exhausting while you still have a healing wound on your side.

“You have cats?” asked the doctor and he even turned his precious attention from the wooden parts to you.

“No Reid, I just prefer to eat and drink from a bowl on the ground.” the sarcastic reaction came out before you could even register it and, in a way, you almost immediately felt guilty about it. He was there to help you. There was no need for hostility. But you were very much on edge, more than usually, since this was the first time they were in your home. You were aware of the fact that just by looking at the environment you created as a home, he was able to profile the shit out of you, and you didn’t like this at all.

You had various kinds of potted plants everywhere—all safe for your pets—, even on top of stacked books that were scattered around the living room. Your dish rack was filled with colourful mugs, plates and bowls, most of them had different patterns and shapes. You bought the majority of those from artisans who set up stands at different fairs. All of them were unique but the colour scheme matched nicely, making your kitchenware organised and fun at the same time. Some were made to look like a blooming flower, some had animal or geek features on them. Penelope was over the moon when she first saw it, so much so that it wouldn’t have surprised you if she sneaked a few out of your place at the end of the occasional get-togethers.

The bookshelf at the wall between your kitchen and living room immediately caught Reid’s attention, but assembling your furniture was the main priority, so he forced himself not to pay much attention to it. Secretly though, he hoped he could take a closer look at what you read and by what system you organised your books, just so he could possibly get to know you more without having to engage in your usual bickering.

Before the doctor could’ve answered your last sentence, you took a swift turn and left your bedroom. A few minutes later the sound of long, drawn-out meows filled the small flat.

“Yeaaah, I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you answered to your pets in a high-pitched tone. The first one to run out of the bathroom was an adult, slightly chubby black cat with deep, amber eyes. You found her and her brother—the sweetest little calico, who was still chilling in the cold sink, even though you opened the door for him to leave—on a hot summer’s night, during a storm that was one of the worsts you’ve ever seen or experienced a little more than two years ago. The kitten named Nick, is an entirely different story. You found him in a dumpster, near your apartment, squaring it up with a raccoon. He hasn’t calmed down ever since. “But I locked you up for your own sakes. And it was only for half an hour.” To this, another long meow was your answer, to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They were dramatic, for sure.

“Should I consider my win on the last case as a result of you, not having a bed?” Reid’s voice almost made you jump; it was so sudden. He was leaning to the doorframe, curious eyes diligently taking in every single tiny detail of you and your surroundings. You were in the process of taking the sweetest little prince out of the sink. The long-haired calico was rather scaredy and hated unfamiliar people but was a total lovebug for those whom he knew. Unfortunately, the tall profiler wasn’t amongst these persons, so the cat’s instincts took over and, in a blink, he clawed his way out of your warm embrace to hide behind the washing machine.

“Shit! Daisy…” you yelped as you became more and more aware of the tingling, hot pain that spread across your upper and lower arms.

“Ah, I… Khm. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew he is afraid of strangers, I should’ve left him alone, but I felt guilty about locking them up for the time you got the bed to my room.” you explained the situation while you started to clean the shallow injuries with some warm water. There were only a few scratches, luckily, but they burned like hell. “The other two will be okay, though. Jordan usually sits on top of the cat tree and judges everyone while Nick brings doom and destruction to all things in existence.”

It didn’t require much brain power to put two and two together, Spencer almost immediately recognised the connection between the names of your cats, however, he didn’t mention a thing. He wasn’t sure how you’d react, and he didn’t want to start a fight. Up until now you’ve only met each other outside of work when the team went out for drinks and even then, you tended to avoid interacting with him. So, instead he silently reached for the soft, salmon-coloured towel and handed it to you, his watchful gaze never leaving your figure.

thank you again for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! i hope it isn't a problem that this fic is getting longer, i'm just taking slow burn seriously (only thing i can do lmao) taglist: @halfbloodwriter @starrystormwritings @kspencer34 @maisyyyyyy @theseerbetweenus @throwaway-things divider from @cafekitsune gif from @reidgif

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART ELEVEN — RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader. WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping, Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), killing, blood, not proofread.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your first week went off without a hitch. You were assigned as a triangle—a soldier, and today was the first game. Red Light, Green Light. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Who knows what would happen to you if you were to mess this up?

And then there was Gong Yoo. Despite not being needed at the island, he was welcomed with open arms by the frontman. And for some reason, he had decided to check up on you so frequently you barely got a break from his gorgeous hideous face. You were still angry with him. Not only had he kidnapped you—but he had made your life significantly worse.

On the island, he was a nuisance. Before that, he was a problem. He had played mind games with you, and they unfortunately worked. You still remember the sight of him chained to the bathtub faucet the night Gi-hun had called you to the hotel. You missed him. Gi-hun was like a father figure to you. He would be so disappointed if he knew you were working with the same men he was trying to bring down.

Yet, you carried on anyways—desperate to prove your worth to the frontman and officers, despite not really having a reason to. If you weren’t such a coward, this would’ve ended days ago, you tell yourself as you step into the sniper room. Inside, a sniper rifle and a viewing box into the field below. On the far side, an unsettling doll dressed in shades of orange and yellow.

As the players in their signature green tracksuits filed into the arena, you couldn’t help but pity them. They had no idea what was coming. No idea that some of them only had a few minutes left to live.

————

An older gentleman runs infront of the large crowd of players after the doll calls out the first “Green Light.” His voice is muffled from afar, but you can faintly hear him screaming about freezing. His voice sounds familiar. It’s warm and paternal, like a man you once knew—although you can’t remember his name. As you aim your gun at the crowd, scanning for movement, it hits you.

Gi-hun.

No, no, no! What was he doing here? Why would he come back to a place like this? And what about his daughter?! Had he already forgotten about the thirteen year old? Your breath hitches as you step away from your gun. “05, do you copy?” Signals the radio in your pocket. You don’t answer. You cant answer.

Your back hits the wall as you slowly slide to the floor. The bright orange walls that surround you feel like they’re caving in. Your breathing starts to quicken as you feel beads of sweat slipping down your forehead. As tempting as it is, you can’t take your mask off. You’ll die if you do. But it’s hot and sweaty, and will anyone really notice if you’re in here?

As you begin to pull your hood down, the door to the right of you clicks open, revealing Gong Yoo. He was wearing a dark gray suit instead of his usual navy blue one. “05, are you taking a break?” He chuckles darkly, his voice laced with irritation. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you interrupt, pulling your hood over your head once again. “I cant do it!” You weep from under the mask, bringing your knees to your chest.

Gong Yoo steps closer kneeling beside you. He skillfully pulls down your pink hood and mask, revealing your balaclava, which he yanks off your head. All that’s left is your sweaty face and silky hair. The salesman’s thumb rubs away the tears streaming down your face, without saying a word. Instead, he sits down beside you and pulls you into his thick, chiseled chest.

His skin is warm, but his hands cold as they rub against your clothed back. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his collarbone as the gunshots and loudspeakers ring out, signaling players deaths. Yet, all of it fades out as you’re in his warm embrace. It feels strange, but good. Maybe you like it.

And maybe, you’ll do it again.

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho @devilishdelirium @muchwita @ang3lgvts @beebeechaos @yru3xme @princeofkhaenri

[kathaelipwse]

"You Can’t Hide From Us"

Pairing: Jackson x GN!Reader x BamBam

Genre: FWB! Sick Comfort

Synopsis: The reader has been avoiding Jackson and BamBam, trying to hide how sick they are. But the boys find them anyway—and they’re not happy about it. Cue clingy, domestic fluff as they take care of their stubborn FWB.

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2.0k

You should have known they’d come looking for you.

Jackson and BamBam weren’t exactly the type to respect boundaries—not with you, at least. Being their friends-with-benefits (emphasis on the friends part) meant they were all up in your business, whether you liked it or not.

So the fact that you had been ignoring their texts and calls for the past few days? Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly.

Still, you tried.

You locked your doors, silenced your phone, and buried yourself under layers of blankets in your dimly lit apartment, fighting off the fever that had settled deep in your bones. Every movement felt sluggish, your head pounding with the force of a thousand drumbeats. But no way in hell were you going to call them.

You didn’t need them to worry.

You didn’t need them to see you like this.

Unfortunately for you, Jackson and BamBam didn’t need an invitation to break into your life—literally.

The knock at your front door was loud and insistent.

"Honey! Open up!" BamBam’s voice rang through the silence of your apartment.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

Another knock. Harder this time.

Jackson’s voice, firmer, laced with suspicion: "We know you’re in there. Stop ignoring us."

You groaned, curling deeper into your blanket cocoon. Maybe if you stayed silent, they’d just—

Click.

Your front door swung open, the cons of giving them your apartment keys.

Shit.

You peeked out from under your blanket just as the two men stepped inside, their expressions shifting from annoyed to concerned the moment they saw you.

"Oh, hell no," BamBam muttered, his usual teasing lilt replaced with something softer.

Jackson crossed the room in three long strides, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale skin, glassy eyes, and the way you shivered despite the warmth of your apartment.

Without a word, he crouched down beside you, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. His lips immediately pressed into a tight line.

"You’re burning up," he said, voice dangerously low.

You tried to shrug weakly, but BamBam was already climbing onto the couch beside you, poking at your cheek. "How could you hide this from us?!"

"I—" Your throat burned as you tried to speak, and you coughed into your sleeve instead.

"No. Nope. Shut up." Jackson stood, hands on his hips like an angry mother. "We’re not doing this. You’re sick, and you thought it was a good idea to suffer alone?"

You opened your mouth—to lie, to downplay it, to make an excuse—but BamBam wasn’t having it.

With zero hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, effectively trapping you under his weight. "Guess what? You’re stuck with us now."

"Get off me, you menace," you croaked, but your voice was too weak to sound threatening.

Jackson, unimpressed, simply bent down and—without warning—scooped you up into his arms.

"Jackson—!" you wheezed, but he was already carrying you to your bedroom.

BamBam followed, dramatically clutching his chest. "You should’ve told us, babe. We would've come over days ago."

Jackson set you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin before sitting on the edge of your bed, arms crossed. "From now on, if you’re sick, you call us. Got it?"

BamBam leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours with an exaggerated pout. "Got it, baby?"

You scowled, but the warmth of their presence—their concern, their ridiculous yet oddly comforting energy—was already breaking through the feverish haze in your mind.

"Fine," you muttered.

BamBam grinned.

Jackson sighed in relief.

And just like that, you lost your right to be left alone.

Jackson took the kitchen.

You heard him rummaging through your cabinets, muttering about "Where the hell is their ginger?" and "I swear, if they don’t have soup ingredients, I’m buying groceries and force-feeding them."

BamBam took the job of “emotional support.”

Which really meant he was laying next to you, playing with your hair, and dramatically sighing every few minutes.

"You really thought you could avoid us?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his teasing tone softer than usual. "You think we wouldn’t notice?"

Your throat was too sore to argue, so you just nudged him weakly with your elbow.

He gasped, clutching his chest. "They still have the energy to bully me. They must be getting better."

You would’ve rolled your eyes if they weren’t so heavy.

Twenty minutes later, Jackson returned with a bowl of homemade soup.

You stared at it. "That looks… suspicious."

BamBam, peering over your shoulder, snorted. "Did you poison them?"

Jackson shot him a deadpan look before turning back to you. "Shut up and eat."

You took a tentative sip. It was… actually decent? Maybe a little strong on the ginger, but warm and comforting nonetheless.

"Okay, it’s not bad," you admitted.

Jackson smirked, smug as ever. "Told you."

BamBam, meanwhile, tried a spoonful and fake gagged. "Ugh, what is this? Medicine?"

Jackson shoved him. "It’s soup, dumbass. Go eat instant ramen if you don’t appreciate my cooking."

Despite the teasing, the room felt soft—warmer than it had been all day.

Hours later, when your fever had lowered slightly, you found yourself half-asleep between them.

Jackson was seated against the headboard, his fingers lazily running up and down your arm. BamBam was curled into your side, one hand still tangled in your hair.

It was… comfortable. Too comfortable.

Maybe that’s why the words slipped out before you could stop them.

"Didn’t want to bother you guys."

Jackson stilled, his fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their slow, soothing motion. "You’re not a bother."

BamBam shifted, his face now dangerously close to yours, voice soft in a way you weren’t used to. "You know that, right?"

Your chest tightened—but this time, it wasn’t because of the fever.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Jackson sighed, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

BamBam nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

And just like that, your defenses crumbled completely.

Maybe you were too tired to keep pretending. Maybe you didn’t want to anymore.

Either way, you let your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the scent of them—cologne, warmth, something unmistakably Jackson and BamBam.

And as sleep finally pulled you under, you missed the way they glanced at each other over your head.

Missed the way BamBam murmured, "Dude, we’re screwed."

And Jackson, running a hand through his hair, exhaling softly: "Yeah… we like them too much, don’t we?"

---

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Ring ring, dear. Hello? Kind Words.

So...! Kestrel and I had our talk. It was not a very long talk, but that hardly mattered to me - I was just so happy to hear his voice again. I couldn't stay upset with him, no matter how hard I tried to be. He sounded so troubled... he told me how guilty he felt that he had been ignoring me, and truly hadn't meant to let it go on for so long. I do believe him; he has always had an irksome habit of putting things off until they can no longer be ignored. I suppose this was no exception, either. He did apologize, though he still seemed a bit... hrmm. Hesitant?

But he did say that once spring break came around, he would fly back home to visit again! I am so excited to see him! I'm going to squeeze him until he pops, too. There was something else he said, too, but, oh, I must have missed it; to be quite honest, it was a bit difficult to focus on the conversation at that point. My mind was just buzzing with thoughts of how I am going to tell him all about you! I would have then, but I feel it would be best to do it in person, yes? Perhaps by then we can figure out a way for him to hear you in his head, too! Ahaha!

Oh, it's so funny... when Kestrel was young, he was always jealous of his friends whom had siblings. I remember the few birthdays where he would beg me for nothing else but a little brother or sister, and I always dreaded having to disappoint him so! But it was not like I could manifest another baby out of the air myself, hahaha! Of course, he eventually figured that out...

Silly... I do still think of Sebastian on occasion - Kestrel's father. But I think I just miss his handsome face more than anything else. I was nineteen, still doing ballet when we met, though I was far from the best in my class. Still, he was quite drawn to my dancing... unfortunately, I had to quit once I found out I was pregnant. And then he wanted me to move to Europe with him - Europe! It was an utterly terrifying thought, uprooting myself like that. I couldn't bear to just leave everything behind, especially my mom... but I suppose he must have felt the same way, and left me instead. At least I had Mom, and Rebh, then... I got over him eventually. And he did give me Kestrel in the end, so I could not stay upset with him forever. I do wonder if he still thinks of us sometimes, too.

Oh, listen to me getting sentimental again... Did you ever think about having a family of your own at any point? (Besides the Curlings, haha!) I will admit, I do hope Kestrel has his own fledglings one day - when he is ready, of course. I would never want to push on him what happened with Sebastian and I. He is still in school, after all! Did I ever tell you he is majoring in environmental studies? I believe his girlfriend is in a similar field, as well! I am very proud of the both of them. And you too, of course. That has never changed.

...

I... do hope all of my excited blithering to you has assuaged some of your fears, dear. I did hear that, you know? It... broke my heart. I would never dream of doing such a thing to you. (And if I did, it would be yet another nightmare for me.) But that is like saying a mother can only ever love one child... it is like what Rebh said about me all over again, all those years ago... but that is simply not true. (R-right? It isn't true. I know how to love someone. I do...) I would not be here now if I did not intend to be here forever. Or, at the very least, as long as you want me to be here...

And I want to talk to you, sweet pea. I want to share my stories with you. I want you to share parts of your life, too. I want to meet you when you are safe and sound, and I want you to meet Kestrel too, and I wish so badly that you could have met my mom. I want to make you peanut butter sandwiches and watch The Wizard of Oz together. I want to keep telling you about the birds. All of them. The hawks and the pigeons and the owls and the scissor-tailed flycatchers.

And I don't want you to ever stop calling me Mum. It is everything to me. Please?

Oh thank God

Hello!!

Ah, yeah, makes sense. The longer you wait, the harder it is to start! Glad it more or less worked out between you two.

Oh, good, good. Yeah no, probably better in person. Hopefully easier to convince him you've not gone bonkers that way, yeah? Hah. In his head? Wouldn't want to impose or anything.

Pfft. I don't think I could be much of a little sibling, even with my somewhat lacking height at the moment.

You did ballet? From what I've heard, that's not easy. Even if you say you weren't the best, I'll bet you were pretty good! Sorry to hear you had to quit. Still, I know all about uprooting yourself between Europe and North America. Mine just... happened to be in the other direction. It's tough. Don't blame you for not wanting to. If I'm being real, he sounds like an asshole.

Eh... s'complicated. I've got a big family what with my parents, sister, niece and nephew, aunts and uncles, cousins... We Curlys are pretty widespread. As for starting one of my own, uh. Marriage never really happened. I doubt it was ever on the table to begin with, though I didn't realize it back then. Kids, maybe. Don't think I'd be the best at it though, whatever else my horde of unofficial children may claim. Mm, yeah... Environmental studies is fun! Lots of good things to learn there. He's focusing on Earth environment, I'm assuming? Hope that turns out well for Kestrel and his girlfriend. ...Thank you.

...

Huh? Fears? ...Oh. I didn't think you could— Sorry. I didn't think— someone else, uh, said that. Earlier that day. It isn't true what Rebh said, I know that. It wasn't you, it was me getting paranoid. Promise. I want you here, I do.

...I'm glad. I like hearing your stories. I want— I want to meet you and Kestrel too. I want to do all that.

Hah. Okay. I will, Mum.

...

Are you fucking serious right now?

Oh, come on. You're not real. You're not even one of them, are you? You're my own thoughts. Fuck off.

I'm trying to help you out here.

Yeah? How's that, fake Jimmy I made up just now?

Are you trying to play house or something? You need to get over yourself, Curls. You're a grown fucking man.

La la la. Not listening.

God, you're so— My parents were pieces of shit. But you? You had everything you wanted. You had real parents who loved you before you fucked off to space. And here you are. Trying to take a third from someone else.

Leave me alone, Imaginary Jim.

I'm imaginary because I'm you, idiot. These are your thoughts that you can't frame to yourself in a way that lets you keep living this fantasy. The truth is, Curly, she said it was a brief conversation for a reason. There's still friction there. You can feel it, right?

...Right. None of my business though. They'll work it out.

Yeah. They'll work it out. What do you think is going to happen when they do?

She said—

She said what? She'd never leave you? Like we said to each other? ...Lighten up. I'm not really him. We both know that. But Curly. Get real, yeah? "You see, son, I'm hearing a voice from a dying man lightyears away." The kid is never going to believe her. He'll think she's fucking insane. She'll have to choose between him and you. Some whiny bastard giving her nightmares or, you know, her real son.

...stop.

Won't bother telling you who she'll choose. You already know.

You're not even real oh my God leave me alone.

...Hey, Curly?

...Yeah?

Can the voices hear this?

Oh, fuck me...

Next time you're going to process your intrusive thoughts through me you should do it quieter. Just saying.

Yep.

[vibbybee]

you guys don’t now how embarrassing it was trying to explain to my non-enstarrie friend that yes, tomoya mashiro did call me, no I’m not crazy, I have his number

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[gojonanami]

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

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

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

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

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

✧ wc: 17,900

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you weren’t really helping either. 

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

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, I like it,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m available.” 

No, this press junket did not help at all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Oh?’” Suguru raises an eyebrow. 

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

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

“Sukuna?” 

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

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

Or should you say monster?

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

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

“Jealous?” 

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

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

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

“You want us to what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She didn’t have a choice, Satoru—“ 

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

“What are you doing—don’t—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But why—“ 

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

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

Exhibit A. 

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

“Not that shoot.” 

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

Oh what the fuck. 

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

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

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

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’ll be other people—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood runs cold, “Since when?” 

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

Oh, you’re fucking screwed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance at Satoru and Suguru — oh fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, fuck. 

“How has shooting the film been so far?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are they saying about me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

The Boys 💕🤍🖤

Bangs Baby: when are you coming home? 

Six Eyed Dork: we’re already making dinner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Raunchiness?” you scoff. 

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

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

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

“About that—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—“ 

“Baby—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When’s the flight?” 

CLICK! 

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

Or rather someone. 

“What the—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To announce our arrival.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking ass. 

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

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

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

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

“CUT!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s all they needed to hear. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you get us tickets to the premiere?” 

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

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

“Uh-huh,” you bite back a laugh. 

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

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

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

“All access.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this was what you needed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was always them. 

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Of course, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

“You left marks over her thighs,”

“Jealous?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck (and not in the good way). 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, “Toru—” 

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

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

“You don’t know—” 

Sukuna smirks, “What’s the plan?” 

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

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

“That I agreed to this?” you murmur. 

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

sukunasthirdleg69: damn can i get on him next? 👅 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what would that be?” Satoru hums. 

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

~~~~

A few months later….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guilty,” 

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

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

“Who said it’s just one?” 

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

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

[poguehearted77]

Winter's Chance

Summary: It's Rafe's turn to have your son for the weekend, but it seems the weather wants you to spend the holidays together.

--Finally some Baby Daddy Rafe

With delicate rubs to your son's tummy, you desperately tried to get him to calm down with soft pleads and overeager soothing. He'd been fussing all day, so much that you'd called the doctor to make sure everything was okay.

They simply reassured you that it may just be a prolonged stage of fussiness. Most babies grow out of it around 4 months which is exactly where Max had just reached a few weeks ago.

Just when he was finally beginning to calm for a moment your ears are filled with the chime of your doorbell. Max picks up his crying as if he had never stopped. Your eyes roll, already knowing who is on the other side of the door.

You gently scooped him up to rest over your shoulder on top of the little binkie you tend to have thrown over your shoulder at all times for moments like this. He was cute, but the spit-up was never pretty and you were always prepared.

Opening the door from a distance you weren't expecting to see Rafe step in partially covered in snow. It distracted you momentarily before Max's cries cut through the shock.

"I know, I know." You whine, gently rocking him, backing away from the cold air that swept against your feet. "Hurry up, and close the door." His eyes roll, "Hello to you too." He closes the door and stomps off the snow from his boots before stepping out of them and hanging up his jacket.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing? This is just a pick-up, then you can have fun trying to calm him down at your place." Rafe stands still, his thumb gesturing to the door behind him, "You haven't seen the news, have you? They're closing the roads, so we're snowed in. The only reason I made it here is because of the suspension on my truck."

Your face turns sour and Max continues to cry.

"So why did you come in the first place if you knew you wouldn't be able to make it back?" He ignores your question for the most part, "Relax, baby. As excited as you are to see me, I didn't come for you. I came for my son. There he is," Rafe's expression lights up as he reaches for Max and takes him out of your hold.

"Rafe you can't just take him and expect him to calm-"

For the first time in seven hours, silence consumes the room. No more screams and tearful cries. "You've got to be fucking with me," You don't say it loudly, but Rafe still hears.

"Guess he was just missin' his daddy, huh? Isn't that right, Max?" Rafe's tone is playful as he pokes at Max's tummy which elicits tiny giggles and the brightest smile you'd seen all day.

You walk away, headed towards the kitchen. Not sure why you were moving so fast, Rafe was hot on your heels. "It's not your fault, it's probably just been a long day-" He finally shuts the fuck up with his smug remarks when he hears a soft cry, "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue, tender and sweet. "Baby, what's wrong?" Effortlessly, he supports Max with one hand while he reaches to turn you so you're facing him.

Your eyes are filled with tears, lips quivering ever so slightly and he knows what's coming. He's seen you like this more times than he can count. He takes you under his arm, your cheek pressed to his chest and you break down, muttering into the fabric of his hoodie.

He comforts you with a big hand rubbing your back, soothing you the way he learned from those parenting books that he swear he never read. "It's so hard, Rafe." Is all you manage to say through broken cries for the first five minutes before you're pushing off him, expression more angry than upset? "He was crying all day, and the second you walk in, he's perfectly fine."

Rafe's lips frown, puzzled. "And that's a bad thing?--"

"Yes! Why do you get to be Superman?!" Earlier, the sound of a pin drop would disturb Max from calming, but now even your exclamations left him unfazed, as long as he was in Rafe's arms he was unbothered.

As a matter of fact, with a second glance, you notice he'd actually fallen asleep. Just Perfect. Another win for Superman.

He chuckles, leading you both to have a seat on the couch. Your son sleeping soundly in his father's hold. "Well, I think I've got the abs for it." His shit-eating grin spreads across his lips.

"You try carrying a baby in your stomach for nine months, and you tell me if you still have abs after." Subtly, his tongue wets his lips at the memory, "All I remember is how good you looked pregnant. Shit, wanna do it again?" You'd never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

"You're lucky you're holding my son." He scoffs, leaning in slightly as if to speak away from the baby. "I seem to remember the two of us going half on the conception, and a few times after that." You air-swat him and stand, making your way for the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap."

The hours flew by as you finally had your first uninterrupted nap in what felt like years. By the time you woke up, the sun was long gone, and there was a thick layer of fresh snow sitting on your window pane. You headed downstairs and stopped at the bottom of the steps to appreciate the view.

Nothing melted you quite like the sight of Rafe taking care of Max. You hated to admit it, but he was a good dad. A really good one. Hot, too. Rafe held the bottle to Max's lips, murmuring some undistinguishable babbles with a soft smile. Surely speaking a language only the two of them can understand.

"I hope you warmed the bottle before you gave it to him." You say, and he finally notices you standing by the stairs, stalking your way over and sitting beside him.He ignores you, knowing that you're just trying to get under his skin. "You look well rested." He remarks and you sigh with a soft nod. "Yeah, I am actually." He grins to himself, "Must be a miracle to sleep well on that cheap-ass mattress you got up there."

"Sorry, we can't all have premium mattresses." Rafe pulls the bottle back once he realizes Max has had his fill. "Y'know my money is your money right? I give you ten thousand a month but everything I have is yours, too." Standing him up on his lap first, Rafe holds the baby over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

"Well, I don't need to live in a fifteen thousand sq ft house to be happy unlike you." He shakes his head slowly, his gaze falls on you, somber. "I seem happy to you? I don't give a shit how big my place is. It's always going to be empty without you two in it... " He trails off, alluding there's more to come.

"Rafe.. What are you saying?"

"Move in with me, again." Your head shakes before you sputter profuse denials, "No, Rafe, we can't we tried that before remember? We don't get along. Technically, we're not even together." The conversation is briefly interrupted by a small gurgled burp on Max's behalf.

Rafe leans down to place a drowsy Max in his rocker in front of the couch before sitting back up. "Things were different then, we were eighteen. I can't do the back-and-forth anymore. Don't you wanna wake up in the morning, see that Max is taken care of and I'm making you breakfast, then we go back to bed and I take care of you? Huh?" He hums, his voice igniting sparks along the length of your neck as he nosed along it.

"Rafe.." your voice is shaky, feeling the heat from the discussion.

"Whadd'ya say, hm?" You reflect, having Rafe stay with you today, in just a few short hours you'd been able to take a break, he held you when you cried like he always did. You'd hardly even fought. Though that was no surprise, the two of you fought considerably less ever since Max came into the picture.

"Okay, yes." You can feel the lines from his smile stretch against your jaw just before he begins to pepper kisses on your cheek. "Y'know, we made the world's cutest baby ever right?" You smile, both your gazes focused on the little one before you.

"He's got your eyes, for sure." Rafe states and you giggle, "You're just saying that because they're brown." He sits up straight, heartfully disagreeing. "I'm not. They're the same eyes that I fell in love with when I first laid my eyes on you, and the same ones that humbled me when they looked up at me for the first time in the NICU."

His words were touching. You're seeing a whole new side of him. Not the usually hot-headed and impulsive man you were used to. This one was sweeter, softer, and more sincere.

You reeled him in for the first kiss, his lips soft as they pressed against yours, his hands confidently holding you at your waist. "Ah, I see you're taking me up on my previous offer. Let's go for a girl this time, yeah?" He grins, and you pinch him.

[rex3o]

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

-

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

-

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Part 1

cw: death of family members

It had been five years since Simon’s last tapping-out ceremony. Back then, he had hoped he’d never again have to stand on this field, but now he was glad he was there. Clad in his ceremonial uniform, he once again watched as families tapped out their loved ones. He watched until only one was left. You. The young woman who had tapped him out five years before.

With a heavy heart, he walked up to you, coming to a stop right in front of you. He watched as silent tears streamed down your face, your eyes focusing on him. And he continued to stand there, his mind taking him back to the worst day of your life.

You had joined the military shortly after you had met Simon, cruising through basic training without issue. When Simon found out about it, he had put in a request that you get transferred to the 141 as a rookie, as soon as your training was over. You were ecstatic to be training under him and you quickly grew close with the rest of the task force. But then everything came crashing down.

Your brother died during an op. Just months after you started training with the 141, you had to bury him. Simon stood by your side as you grieved him. You grew close to each other, closer than you probably should, since he was still your superior, but it did both of you well, so Price turned a blind eye.

But when the Captain received a call just a year ago, he had Simon break it to you. Your entire family had died in a car crash. Your mother, siblings, nephews - everyone was dead. You were alone. All alone. A feeling Simon knew all too well.

When you met Simon, you never thought you’d find yourself in the same situation he was. But…you weren’t alone. You had him, and Price and Johnny and Kyle. You had your own little family, and slowly, you healed. But days like these brought all the hurt back.

Simon reached up, his hand gently cupping your face as the sob that had been building inside you for an hour finally escaped your lips. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him as he pulled you closer against himself. “I got ya love. I got ya.” Your tears stained his uniform as he just held you while you cried.

It took you a few minutes to calm down, but when you did, Simon gently pulled away, cupping your face and making you look up at him. “I’m so proud of you, baby. And they are, too.” You nodded, managing to smile a little at the thought of them cheering on from heaven. “Come, the boys are waiting back on base.”

Just like you had with him five years ago, he slipped his hand into yours and led you to the car park.

A/N: Part two! Hope you liked it, sorry for all the angst. Also, I almost cried writing this.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw

You have an important document from your work that needs to be fixed now, but your poor boyfriend König already got worked up the moment you leant down to retrieve your book from a lower shelf moments ago, your ass in full display to him, so you compromise when he look at you with that heavy cock hanging between his thighs, “liebling, please, I won’t interrupt you doing your work.” he says while pulling you onto his lap, your core rest just against his growing erection. How can you say no when he pleads so nicely?

Your arms wrapped around his neck, typing on your phone and dealing with the job, while König humping like a dog in heat against your clothed pussy, groaning and growling just beside your ear as he prods his tip repeatedly at your clit, still cheekily trying to let you lose control and finish whatever you’re doing now. But he needs to be a good boy, he already promised you he’ll hold back until you have time, so he settles with grinding his cock along your pussy for now.

You hum in approval, sparing a glance at him and his dick when he slide it between your pussy lips, your panties’ already a mess after he pulled down the hem of your panties and pumped a load inside, clinging onto your skin and showing the curve of your mound.

“I can’t wait anymore, Süße…bitte bitte…” A grin decorates your lips as you see his face, all flush with the desire burning in his body, can’t even think straight and talk coherently, because sweetie, he just wants to sink his cock inside your drenched cunt and fuck you so good, overwhelm you in pleasure so you can forget about your job.

So you finally set down your phone. Actually, you already finished correcting the mistakes in your documents minutes ago, but the sight of him blabbering and moaning, like all he wants in this world is you and your pussy, is just too entertaining.

“Oh…oh my god…” Your teasing words don’t even have a chance to make their way out of your lips, the moment you put away the phone, he already stands up and flip you onto the mattress, slamming his cock inside you in one swift move, legs pressed back to your breast for mating press, pounding into you with the full force of his hips that you’re practically screaming his name in ecstasy.

Just don’t let him discover that you pretend to be occupied by work for a few more minutes, just to see him eagerly rolling his hips against your slick folds, unless you want to walk side to side the next day, from how he teach you a lesson with his weapon that he calls his cock.

[sun-kissy]

balm | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1k

summary: bucky finds out that you got a (minor) bruise and didn’t tell him about it

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of accident and bruise, reader gets a little guilty, bucky gets a little upset

“Hey,” you feel Bucky’s hands on your hips, the soft touch of his lips to your cheek. “Hey, doll. Did you get lovelier over the weekend?”

You try to ignore the stinging sensation where his hand rests against your waist. You turn around to face him, abandoning your task of chopping the vegetables.

“Bucky,” you smile softly, arms going around his neck. He grins and kisses you again. “Hi. I missed you.”

“So did I, pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumbing at the skin underneath the edge of your shirt. He’s gentle as always, but the pain is almost unbearable. You try not to squirm. “There were so many times I almost called. But of course, Sam wouldn’t let me. You know, strictly classified location and all that.”

Bucky had gone on a mission over the weekend, and had just gotten back a couple hours ago. You let yourself into his apartment as soon as you got a text from him.

He’d mentioned craving pasta, so you started making some. The only thing you were trying to think about right now was making him feel loved after what must have been an exhausting few days.

You hum understandingly, turning back towards the kitchen platform and picking up the knife. Your shoulders almost sag with relief when Bucky lets go of your hips and stands beside you.

He eases the knife out of your hands, ignoring your protests. “Seriously, doll, it’s okay. I can do this. Why don’t you get started on the pasta?”

“Fine,” you sigh, moving to make way for your boyfriend to use the chopping board.

Bucky chuckles at your stubbornness. He glances over as you stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above the stove.

One moment, you’re rummaging through the shelf to find pasta, and the next, you feel his strong hands curving around your stomach and pulling you back down.

“Bucky —“

“What —“ Bucky interrupts, spinning you around. His hands find your shirt. “— is that?” He lifts it up, lightly brushing his fingertips over the dark purple lying just above your waistline. You try not to flinch. He notices, his frown deepening.

“It’s a… um… a bruise.”

“I know it’s a bruise, doll,” Bucky sighs. He crouches to get a better look at it, and you feel your muscles tensing up. From the stress or the pain, you’re not sure. “I mean, how did you — when did you get this? How did this happen?”

You swallow. His concern makes your heart squeeze in awful ways. “I, um… I got it today.”

“Today?” his gaze flicks up to yours worriedly as he stands up straight. “How?”

“Well, so you see,” you suck in a breath, “there was this other car which crashed into mine from behind —“

“What?!”

“No! Wait,” you grab his hands desperately, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s not as bad as you think it is, really. Just let me finish.”

You could’ve sworn he was glaring at you, but he kept his mouth shut.

“So, nothing major happened —“ you gulp at his deadpan look, “— really! I just got jerked a little from the impact, and the steering wheel hit me.”

“This hard?”

You confirm it with a nod.

Bucky exhales, fingers finding the rough patch again as he slips his fingers under your shirt. He presses it gently. You wince. “Did you at least get it cleaned up?”

The guilty expression on your face tells him enough. But you still confirm it with a feeble, “no.”

His eyebrows bunch together. “That can’t be good,” he mutters to himself, tugging on the waistband of your shorts to get a better look. “Can you please come to the toilet with me? I think we should disinfect it.”

You’re too overwhelmed with shame to do anything but agree. You let Bucky pull you to the washroom, manoeuvre you with his kind hands to sit on the closed toilet seat. He sits below, first aid kit in his lap.

You know he’s upset, even if he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t show in the gentle way he wipes a washcloth over the area; the way he rests his chin on your knee as he works.

But it does show when he starts to apply the antiseptic cream. You hiss between clenched teeth, and he seems to have been reminded of the fact that you’re in pain, that you were in pain and you didn’t bother telling him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t reply, opting instead to bite down on your lip. Bucky is quick to reach for your face, gently pulling it free from your assail.

He asks again, softer, like he wasn’t kind enough the first time. It makes you feel like a bitch.

“You just got back, you know,” you mumble. “You’re probably exhausted, and — and sick of me, and…”

“Sick of you?” he interrupts quietly, something akin to confusion on his features. He sounds hurt. “I could never be sick of you, doll. And… and I missed you. You know I missed you.”

Once again, you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t need you to.

“Listen,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt back down, “It’s my job to worry about you, okay? I don’t want you worrying about me worrying about you. Because I want to.”

“Are you sure —“

“I’m sure, lovely girl,” he says, getting up on his knees to kiss you. You bend forwards, feeling his affection soothe over you like a balm.

Bucky pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Promise not to hide things like these from me again, okay? I want to care about you.”

“You want to care about me.”

“I do,” he murmurs, smiling slightly at the awe in your tone. “I do, doll. I love you.” He presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you.”

Bucky revels in the beauty of your smile when you say it back, the first real one he got from you all evening. He was glad to be home.