#and it made the bros kind of sad

[ghost-bxrd]

The Pied Piper of Hamelin but make it Red Hood accidentally amassing a loyal following of street kids in Crime Alley that systematically sabotages the Bats whenever they get a little too close to catching him, including but not limited to staging brawls and muggings.

The Bats think there must be some kind of mind control going on because ain’t no way that kids flock to a violent crime lord without some type of magic or bribe involved.

Jason doesn’t know about any of this until there’s a group of furious kids jumping Batman, and another group teens dragging him away from where his neck had been kindly sliced open by his kind-of father.

[mauricemylittlemeowmeow]

headpat

[nothinggold13]

*watches the prequel trilogy with the og trilogy once* GUYS I THINK I UNDERSTAND STAR WARS NOW

[padfootastic]

One of my favorite semi-crack headcanons is that Narcissa actually does look like her relatives, she’s got naturally black hair and gray eyes, but she initially started wearing glamor charms/charms to change the color after the war to avoid the number of people giving her suspicious looks for her resemblance to two notorious Death Eaters and her husband who’d only avoided a conviction through Ministry ineptitude and legit everyone suspects him of lying or also lied but knows the truth, but then she just fell into habit of doing this (and uses relatively permanent charms. They can be undone, but they don’t need to be constantly reapplied). Bella escapes from prison and says “what the hell happened to your hair—and your eyes” straight away, first thing she says to her sister after over a decade; Narcissa shrugs and says looking like her convicted criminal cousin and sister wasn’t winning her any favors, better swing the opposite direction to see if that helps. Andromeda, who looks like Bella’s twin, still got suspicious looks but marrying a Muggleborn and having his kid went a long ways toward making people trust her; she has a scathing commentary on her sister deadass changing her appearance to try to dodge the DE allegations and it is one of the first things she says to Sirius after meeting him again. Draco genuinely cannot recognize younger photos of his mother and fully thinks this is her natural appearance; he gets a nasty shock when he learns otherwise and he only discovers the truth because Rabastan was telling his sort of nephew stories of what they all used to be like and found a photo album that had their old pictures. Rabastan watches the kid stare at 16 year old Narcissa Black with her little cousins at her side—all three looking near identical and laughing together—and wonders if he broke the kid and if so, can he fool Narcissa into thinking he didn’t play a role in this; he sadly decides he can’t and frantically tries to calm Draco down, because if Narcissa doesn’t hex him into next year, she’ll just tell Bella and Bella most certainly will. Sirius once saw a recent photo of Cissy and choked on his breakfast, pre-seeing Andy again, asking who the hell that woman was because it sure isn’t his cousin. Upon the younger lot confirming that’s just how she looks now, he hollers for Tonks to go get her mother, Sirius needs to find out what the hell her sister is up to. This is the first time the younger kids meet Andromeda and she makes a hell of an impression

ok but why is this actually hilarious lmao

i think i’ve seen something adjacent to this in a fic where someone (sirius?) makes a crack ab narcissa partially dying her hair blond a la the movies to try and fit in better w the maggots and the thought is honestly too funny.

some teenage girls get a tattoo of their bfs, some teenage boys carve their crush’ names into their hands, and narcissa black permanently colors her hair blond and staunchly stands by that decision well into her adult years (while resolutely cursing her fair skin for betraying her embarrassed flush)

[hoperenae]

Turning Heads (a Haikyuu fanfic by hoperenae)

PREVIOUS — SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT

PART 26- Sorry

The third set was a steady uphill battle. We each took the lead several times, and everyone was truly at the top of their game. I had never felt sharper, more in tune with my body’s movements. About halfway through, we were leading 17-16. It was our longest rally yet, but we refused to let the ball drop. I jumped up for the spike and sliced my cleanest cross shot yet. Iwaizumi stretched to try to pick it up but was half a second too late. 

Once again, Aoba Johsai was the first to reach 20 points, but we were only one point behind this time. With Daichi’s encouraging words, we tied it up. Before we knew it, we were back at deuce, 24-24. With Kageyama’s brilliant setter dump, we made it to match point. In another never-ending rally, Oikawa chased the ball out of the court, pointed to Iwaizumi, and set the ball toward him from insanely far away. I was so distracted by Oikawa crashing into the courtside chairs that I almost didn’t notice Daichi receiving Iwa’s spike. Tanaka dove for the ball and Asahi spiked it, but they received it. 

After we traded the ball a couple more times, we finally had a clear chance to score. Hinata got a good running approach and spiked the ball right into the blockers fingertips. Oikawa was poised to receive it, but he was too late. The ball hit the floor and dramatically bounced several times before coming to a stop at the back wall. The room was silent, and then…we erupted.

I clapped my hand over my mouth and my vision blurred as tears flooded my eyes. Just like last time, I collapsed to the ground in disbelief. But unlike last time, I couldn’t stop the massive grin from spreading across my face. I felt invincible.

I saw everyone else run to Hinata and Kageyama, so I did the same. I jumped on Kageyama’s back and ruffled his hair with my fist. 

“You brilliant bastard!” I cried as the others joined in and did the same to Hinata. We all hugged and cried and laughed and smiled like we never had before. When it was time to line up, coach practically had to pull us all apart. When we approached the other team at the net, I finally locked eyes with Oikawa. 

His eyes were dark and intense, and his gaze was fixated on Kageyama. A seemingly permanent scowl was pasted on his face. When he shook my hand, he looked at me and his face softened for a half a second before he quickly looked away.

We said our thank yous to the crowd and huddled back up as a team, slapping each other’s backs and shedding a few tears of joy. After a quick post-game chat, coach told us to load up and we would talk more back at the school.

Just as I was about to walk out the front doors, I spotted the Seijoh boys toward the end of the hallway, gathering their things to begin their solemn ride home. Oikawa and Iwa were talking with their heads bowed low, like they were too heavy to keep upright. A few pieces of my heart broke off. I approached them cautiously. When I was near enough, they lifted their heads and saw me. Iwa nodded at me and gave Oikawa a slap on the shoulder before walking away to give us privacy.

“Hey,” I said, barely above a whisper. Oikawa said nothing. I cleared my throat. “Listen, I—”

“Please, don’t,” Oikawa said. His gaze was on his shoes beneath him, and when he lifted his head, I saw his nose twitch like it did when he was about to cry.

“Just listen to me, okay?” I paused, and when he didn’t say anything, I took it as my cue to continue.

“I’m not gonna tell you that I feel bad for winning because I don’t. We deserved that win. We worked our asses off for that win. But I am gonna say that I’m sorry this was your last shot at nationals. I’m sorry that we took that away from you. I’m sorry you won’t get to play volleyball with your friends anymore, Toruu.”

And with that last line, I knew I had hit a sore spot. But instead of yelling at me, instead of telling me to screw off and leave him alone, Oikawa Toruu burst into tears and crumpled into me, his head resting on my shoulder and arms at his side.

I wrapped my arms around his midsection and let him stay like that for a bit until eventually, his sobs subsided, and he lifted his head from me.

“You have to win,” he sniffed, wiping his nose on his shirtsleeve. “Win, and then win some more. Defeat them all.” He furrowed his brow sternly.

“We will,” I declared, sticking out my fist. Oikawa nodded, and his lips curved up in the slightest attempt of a smile.

TAGLIST: @bokuroibi @lemurzsquad

[nbclover]

Idk why all these chicory arts are making me embarrassed about how I did in the game

[yeetspace]

Yuyyuh Dad finally overtly succumbed to religious dogma! Finally get to change my name to the cool one that's for my mom's side once we get to that point.

Headass really just said "I'm sorry you got hurt by my actions, I'm just a girl who fucked up but God said that you need to get someone pregnant and give me grandkids so obviously I was in the right for doing that just trying to get you there"

That's only slightly abridged. It's only fucking slightly abridged.

Fucking mint that I get to have a comic book style alliteration name now though Hell yeah

It's infinitely funnier because this man has no concept that there's even a different name I would go by, let alone an entire fucking actual different identity given everything... Like I mean he didn't care about me and the only wanted to criticize me so it makes sense he never saw the signs of my egg hood there, my mom much more so got the idea here cuz she was immediately like "yeah that tracks What do you want to be called"

My dad on the other hand was the type of person to sit me down outside with the entire family sitting around me trying to discuss and dissuade me from dating a trans person while very evidently barely able to contain himself on either just getting fisterly upset at the concept of me arguing against the idea of just baseless bigotry on his part, or fighting every fucking instinct not be using the t slur very liberally (which is a bit hypocritical for such a concernative man But what do I know I'm just someone who actually knows the shit this man pretends like he as an endotheo knowledge on when it comes to most pieces of information simply for the sake of not wanting to have him be the one to teach me it because he just needs to make it something where he knows it before I do and is upset that I don't yet)

[fingertipsmp3]

Still not over how I legitimately woke up this morning bawling my eyes out

[sixeyesonathiel]

finally birthing male manipulator satoru with girl failure reader wwww

gojo satoru was used to getting what he wanted.

and he wanted you.

not in some deep, profound way—god, no. not at first. it started as a game. a challenge. a passing amusement that piqued his interest one random thursday morning when you stammered out an apology after bumping into his desk, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. he watched you trip over your own words, clutch your pen like a lifeline, and tuck your legs up onto the chair like you could shrink out of existence if you tried hard enough.

prime target. textbook girlfailure behavior. he could spot it from a mile away.

this was supposed to be easy.

he’d start small. nothing too intense. just a little white knight routine—softboy edition. give you just enough attention to get you spinning. love-bomb in casual doses. trauma-dump-lite over late-night fries. maybe let his voice go quiet and vulnerable one evening and say, “you remind me of someone i cared about.” glance away, bite his lip, look just the right amount of broken. play the victim just enough to make you feel like you had to fix him.

he’d make you think he saw you. that he understood you.

except you, with your messy hair and oversized hoodie sleeves pulled over twitchy fingers, dodged every single one of his perfectly curated attempts like your avoidant attachment style was running military-grade defense protocols.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked one afternoon, leaning a little too close to your desk, silver hair slightly tousled, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, his voice low and silky. lips curved into a smile that’d made stronger girls fold. “you looked a little sad today. i worry about you sometimes.”

you blinked up at him, lashes fluttering like you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. your throat worked around a half-swallowed gulp. then your face shifted. shutters slammed down. you forced a grin, lopsided and sharp around the edges.

“yeah, i’m just like this. it’s seasonal depression, but, y’know… year-round. i’m fine.”

you said it so matter-of-factly. like he was asking about the weather.

satoru froze, his hand briefly twitching near his glasses as he pushed them up slowly, searching for meaning in a world that had suddenly gone sideways.

what the actual hell.

okay. maybe you needed more.

he started sitting next to you in class. always coincidentally. elbows brushing, knees knocking. his thigh warm where it grazed yours. he sent you memes at 1:37 a.m. with captions like “us fr?” and “ur literally me,” despite you barely replying to half of them. he offered his jacket when the AC kicked on and watched the way you hesitated, blushed, and then said, “i run on spite, not warmth.”

and then, the pièce de résistance:

“i just feel like… you’re different,” he said one evening outside the library. the campus was quiet, sky the kind of inky navy that made everything feel more cinematic. he stood with hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, a calculated slouch, glasses slightly askew, hair falling across his forehead. his voice dipped low, coaxing. “everyone else is so fake. but you? you’re real. you’ve got this… broken, beautiful thing going on.”

you tilted your head. stared. then squinted at him like he was a suspiciously priced antique. “did you get that line off tiktok?”

he flinched.

bro.

he ran a hand through his hair. a slow, dramatic drag of fingers. girls walking by giggled. he didn’t look up. he was malfunctioning.

he was trying. actually trying. not just running a script. not just playing games. he was pulling every page from the softboy manipulator playbook and rewriting it with style. the gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss starter pack, optimized for 2025.

and still. you met his carefully calculated charm with self-deprecating jokes, sarcasm, and the kind of deadpan delivery that made him question if he was losing it.

“you should save that line for someone without warranty issues,” you said, staring at him with a crooked little smile. “i come pre-broken.”

he left that encounter walking in slow motion, hoodie sleeves dragged over his hands, mouth set in a pout. if a sad indie movie montage started playing around him, he wouldn’t have questioned it.

here’s the thing, though: you liked him.

it was obvious.

he saw it in the way your gaze flickered to his mouth when he talked. the way your fingers curled tight around your notebook when he leaned in too close. the way your breath hitched just slightly when he used your name in a sentence. you were down bad.

but you were also your own worst enemy.

years of romantic misfires and silent yearning had turned you into a master of avoidance. you would rather make a joke about your emotional damage than let someone touch your heart. rather ghost your feelings than face them.

and it was frying his entire nervous system.

one night, 2:14 a.m., satoru lay on his bed staring at your latest post: a blurry picture of your cat with the caption “me.” it had two likes.

he stared at it longer than any man should. took a screenshot. set it as his lock screen for five minutes. unironically laughed.

then groaned and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“no,” he muttered. “no. she’s the one who canceled our group study session with ‘sorry i’m busy disappointing my ancestors.’”

and yet.

he kept thinking about the way your voice dropped to a whisper when you didn’t think anyone was listening. the way you fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous. how you always sat at the edge of a group like you weren’t sure you belonged there.

you never clung to him. never fed into his savior complex. never let him be the one who "fixed" you.

and for some reason, that made him want to try harder.

not because it was a game anymore. because… well. because you were infuriating. weird. unpredictable. not like the others. god, maybe you were even kind of funny.

whatever. it wasn’t that deep.

gojo satoru: male manipulator dodged by the one girl who wanted him back… just enough to sabotage it.

and now he’s the one thinking way too hard about someone who won’t even sit next to him two days in a row.

he doesn’t like you.

he just… finds you interesting.

that’s all.

shut up.

[thebestsetter]

Rin likes black.

Call him emo or depressed or cringe or whatever works best for you. He uses ONLY black things.

His shirts are all black. He shows up to practice wearing the team's black kit. His car is black. He answered a interview saying that his favorite color was black (although he disliked the question and thought it was unecessary - he's here to talk about football, goddammit!) Hell, even the Keychain on his black backpack is a black and white sad face.

He likes black. Actually, scratch that. He loves it.

So, his team can't help but feel confused when he suddenly comes to practice with the team's pink kit, which he swore ("cross my heart and hope to die" kind of thing) that he'd NEVER wear. He even said it was because you accidentally washed it during laundry day it was still not dry. (Ha. As if. He had like 10 of those).

And then he came with that same kit the other day. And the day after that. And the day after that day too.

And, suddenly, things weren't so black anymore.

His backpack, which now was adorned with pink hello kitty stickers, had a smiley pink and white Keychain attached next to the black and white one. His car had pink details on the leather seats, and his shoes were black and pink.

It was strange, to say the least. That was until they couldn't really take it anymore. Seeing a pink hair tie around his wrist hut the final nail in the coffin.

"So... uhm... Rin." Isagi started, Bachira and Nagi curiously watching behind him "If I remember correctly, you said before your favorite color is black, right?"

"It is" Rin deadpanned.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them while Rin waited for Isagi to answer and Isagi waited for him to say something else. It was quickly interrupted by Bachira's excited "Ask already!"

"But... uhm... I see you took a liking to... pink things. Why's that?"

"Oh" Rin clearly wasn't expecting this question. He stared into Isagi's eyes and then looked down to tie his shoelaces "I don't like pink"

"Huh?" Nagi made a noise behind them, and just then did Rin notice those two

"But you have lots of pink things now!" Bachira said, getting behind Itoshi and shaking his shoulders, obtaining an eyeroll from him

"I dislike pink" he shook Bachira's hands off and sighed "I wear it only because my girlfriend loves it"

"Fair enough!"

"Oh."

"Okay, well, that actually makes sense"

"Owwnnn, is Rinnie so in love with his girlfriend that he wear pink just for her?" Seriously, who called Shidou here anyways?

But what made Rin hate him even more was the fact that he was right. He did wear pink only for you.

He was getting tired of you nagging at him for only having black shirts (and he also loved your smiling face when you saw him dressed like a Barbie doll, but that's on second thought or at least he likes to pretend it is.)

Don't get me wrong, black is still his favorite color. But you're his favorite thing in the whole world, so take a guess on who wins this one.

Black: 0

You: 1

Quick note: Rin loves when these two things are together. So imagine his reaction to you on a black dress on your 1 year anniversary. Bro almost fainted.

I hate school somebody HELP ME

Not proofread cause I'm sleepy and lazy. Deal with it.

Masterlist

[gremlingottoosilly]

König who immediately sets his sights on his younger brother’s crush/girlfriend. He’s offering “advice” but really just wants to snatch you from right underneath his nose.

Honestly, it's on his dumb little brother. Only an idiot like him would think that asking Konig, the socially inept war criminal with a body count going in hundreds of dead people, would have good advice about relationships. His last girlfriend left the country, and probably the continent deleted all of her social media and decided to live among giant spiders. Konig didn't have a serious relationship in years, mostly just yearning for some social media models and pin-up girls. Then he sees his brother's cute little friend, and all hell breaks loose. The advice in terms of bringing the girl to their apartment - acting like she will be impressed with his brother's matress on the floor and action figure collection. Konig made sure to buy a bedframe a week earlier, as if it's not his gun collection littering the walls. Asks his bro to act like an alpha, like he is already sure the girl is in love with him and needs a big, strong guy to take care of her. You're disgusted, of course, and you sit on their grimy - Konig did clean up and even called a maid, but still - kitchen, drinking their tea while his brother was pouting in his room, not sure what he did wrong. You're timid, sheepish, quiet in front of him. Konig is too much of one man, and he puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. Patting your head and gently pressing his fingers on your exposed skin. You're so sad over your friend being a dick, you don't even mind his brother. Konig is...nice, in comparison. Kind of cool-looking, with all the scars and muscles. Doesn't flaunt his income, but asks if you want him to call an uber, and you see his fingers trailing over to Business class. He gives you a candy bar - your favorite, you notice - and asks if, maybe, you want him to drive you home instead of a taxi. Konig was never this smooth his entire life - and maybe you're just distressed enough to ignore his staring and a slight tremble in his fingers - god, how much he wants to squeeze you until you sing for him. Perhaps, you just want a good guy, a normal guy, to hug you and don't try to squeeze your ass in the process. Konig wouldn't promise not putting a hand on the low of your back when he walks you to your door, but he is just awkward enough to make him seem cute. Harmless. He asked if you wanted to come next time, just to see him. You say yes. Konig thinks it's time to shop for rings.

[theplatypusblue]

The Spinjitzu Master

some yapping below the cut :D

hey guys i made a comic!! I actually finished something!!! yayayyayay!!!!! I've been so busy and stressed lately and this was a nice thing to chip away at to de-stress n stuff. The one time I tried doing a multi-page comic like this I totally lost steam in the middle of it and didn't finish, so at the very least I'm happy that I managed to like. get anything down on the page at all lol.

Anyway I'm always thinking about this little guy.... his life was so sad bro like what the heck. Granted we don't actually know that much about his life, but you can extrapolate stuff, and that's basically what this comic is. I like to think that the fsm kind of stumbled into some of the things he did early on in his life. There's like, no way this dude was nearly as cool and epic and in-control as the narrative makes him seem. In my mind he's just as lame as the rest of his lame-ass family; it's just that everyone (his sons, the ninja, the entire rest of ninjago) idolizes him so much and can really only see him as this kind of legendary figure. In reality I think he was just a lonely kid dealing with a lot of like. war and conflict and general suffering. And then (at least in my mind) he managed to get a couple of lucky breaks which eventually lead him to carve out his own little space for himself in ninjago. So I was thinking about that kind of thing 👍

(And then you can see how all of that stuff bleeds into how he raised wu and garm, but that's an entirely different thing for an entirely different day lol)

I'm like 90% sure I got something wrong/mixed something up lore-wise and that this whole thing doesn't actually make sense as a result. but also! The idea felt clever enough to go ahead with it anyway :3 and I wanted to post it before the show dropped more fsm lore (seriously when is dr gonna get into more ninjago history... I can feel it on the horizon it's like the one big thing I'm looking forward to... give me more lore dumps!! more flashbacks!!! more!!!!!!!)

[sixxels]

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

wc: 7.8k

disclaimer !! slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! eventual smut (most likely). reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !! m.list!!

the problem was that satoru gojo hadn’t stopped thinking about you since that stupid coffee date.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. he’d done this kind of thing before—charming girls, making them laugh, maybe spending the night if he was bored enough. but this? this wasn’t just flirting. it wasn’t a mission or a chase.

you were different.

and that terrified the hell out of him.

he sat on the balcony of the frat house the next night, legs kicked up on the railing, the bass from the party downstairs shaking the floorboards beneath his feet. a half-drunk beer dangled from his hand, and his phone sat untouched beside him—though he’d checked it three times in the past five minutes, half-hoping you’d text.

you hadn’t.

you weren’t the type to double text.

and for once, he kind of wished you were.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” suguru’s voice cut through the thick night air, lazy and smug.

gojo didn’t even glance over. “jesus, what are you? psychic?”

“nah,” suguru stepped outside, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, long black hair tied back messily. his black gauges caught the light as he leaned against the railing. “just watching you stare at your phone like a sad puppy.”

gojo sighed. “i’m not m—”

“moody?” suguru cut in. “bro, you’ve been pouting since you got back from that coffee date.”

gojo stayed quiet.

“so?” suguru asked, glancing sideways. “did you make any progress?”

gojo took a swig of his beer. “we talked. she laughed at my jokes, she's really, and i mean really cute. it was… nice.”

“that’s it?” suguru blinked. “you’ve got, like, four weeks left. you gonna kiss her or just make googly eyes until june?”

“it’s may 6th,” gojo muttered.

“and you’re behind schedule.”

gojo gave him a look. “you really think this is about the bet anymore?”

suguru raised an eyebrow, pausing. “…so you caught feelings?”

gojo scoffed, but the way he stared out into the night said more than his words did.

“fuck,” he murmured. “i think? man fuck this i've never done this kind of shit before!”

suguru let out a low whistle, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “you? satoru gojo? falling for some shy girl you haven’t even made out with yet? damn. the apocalypse really is coming.”

“shut up.”

“no, seriously,” suguru said. “you’re acting like you’ve never talked to a girl before. this is a whole new level of whipped.”

gojo set his beer down and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

“she’s just… not like the others. she’s quiet, but when she talks, it’s like she actually means what she says. and she looked at me like she was really listening, like she cared. and she didn’t try to show off or flirt or get something from me. she was just… her.”

“adorable little coffee girl,” suguru teased, tilting his head. “you’re really falling hard.”

“yeah,” gojo admitted. “i think i am.”

suguru let the silence hang for a moment before pushing off the railing.

“well, that’s sweet and all,” he said casually, “but the bet still stands.”

gojo blinked. “what?”

“come on,” suguru grinned. “you said you could bang her by the end of may. that’s $2000 on the line. i’m not just gonna let you back out because you caught a case of the butterflies.”

gojo frowned. “you’re seriously holding me to that?”

“you’re the one who upped the stakes,” suguru reminded him. “you wanted to prove you could do it. don’t tell me you’re chickening out now.”

“it’s not about chickening out,” gojo said. “it just… it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

suguru shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “then figure it out. either go all in or call it. but don’t string her along if you’re not sure what you want.”

gojo looked down at the ground below, jaw clenched.

“she’s not the kind of girl you mess with,” he said quietly. “she deserves better than that.”

suguru gave him a long look. “then maybe stop being the kind of guy who does.”

~

that night, gojo lay sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, your text thread glowing softly in the dark.

n/n 💗 : thank you for the coffee today :)

n/n 💗: i had fun !!

he stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding heavier than it should have.

he started typing.

gojo: me too ;)

gojo: wanna hang again soon? no coffee this time, i’ll try to impress you with my tragic lack of cooking skills 🤝

send.

he stared at the screen feeling slightly anxious. a reply came a minute later.

n/n 💗 : for sure :)

he smiled. god, you were even cute over text.

gojo : awesomeeee i can't wait! i'll pick you up outside the girl dormitories after your classes tomorrow!

he set the phone on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

he hadn’t figured it out yet, what to do about the bet, how to tell you, how to stop feeling like the world’s most shittiest person for even agreeing to it in the first place.

but one thing was clear.

this wasn’t about the money anymore.

and if he wasn’t careful, you were going to be the one thing in his life he couldn’t charm, lie, or joke his way out of.

~

the sun was beginning to set when gojo pulled up to the dorms, low rays turning the pavement gold. he wore a gray hoodie over his alpha phi tee, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. he’d parked a little early, pretending it was just to get a good spot, but really—it was nerves. again.

and then you appeared.

you walked out of the dorm building like you’d fallen out of a dream: soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder, a pleated plaid skirt swishing gently as you moved, lace-trimmed socks just peeking out over black mary janes. you clutched your phone and blinked up when you spotted him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

god, you were pretty. almost too pretty.

you took in the sight of his very black, very expensive looking car, walking up to him shyly.

he leaned over and popped open the door. “hop in, angel.”

you slid in, offering a shy smile. “hello.”

“hey yourself,” he grinned, starting the engine.

you looked around his car, clearing your throat slightly. "you've got a really nice car, satoru."

he smirked, one of his favourite things in life was his car, so having you of all people complimenting it made him feel giddy.

"it's a Mclaren 570S spider, my baby."

you smiled at his obvious love for his car and looked at him through fluttered eyes. "it's very cool, gojo."

if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging insanely right now.

the drive to his frat was quick, and your eyes widened at how grand the front enterance looked.

"hope you like ramen, because that's all we got right now sweets."

his frat house wasn’t clean, but it had character. guys yelling over fifa downstairs, a wall of polaroids lining the staircase, beer cans stacked like a sad sculpture on the kitchen counter. you hesitated at the door of his room until he gestured for you to come in, flipping the light switch and kicking a basketball out of the way.

“welcome to my humble kingdom.”

you stepped inside, eyes wide as you took in the mess of it all—expensive sneakers piled haphazardly in the corner, basketball trophies scattered across his dresser, and posters of old anime's and old rock bands on the wall. somehow, it smelled faintly of expensive cologne and dryer sheets.

he scratched the back of his neck. “it’s, uh… not exactly pinterest material.”

“it’s very you,” you said with a giggle.

he blinked. “is that a good thing or?”

you turned to him, giving him a small, almost shy smile. “yeah. it's cool."

he looked at you then—really looked—and that tiny, pink, fluttering thing in his chest came back full force.

you wandered over to his desk while he started fiddling with the stovetop burner on the little kitchenette shoved into the corner of his room.

“so,” he said, voice casual. “i was thinking—gourmet instant ramen. maybe some fancy egg on top if we’re feeling wild.”

~

“so…” you said after a few minutes, propped on the edge of his bed while he stirred noodles, “what’s it like being frat president?”

he snorted. “exhausting, kinda. it’s basically babysitting drunk toddlers with big egos.”

you laughed and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of his bed. "i thought it was just about throwing parties.”

“eh, that too.” he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. “but i have to keep the house from falling apart, break up fights, stop choso from lighting the grill with a flamethrower again…”

you blinked. “again?”

he smiled sheepishly. “yeah, we lost a picnic table last semester.” you giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

then your smile faded just slightly.

“you okay?” satoru asked quietly, voice low as he stirred the ramen.

you nodded, but there was a pause that lingered too long, your eyes fixed on your lap. your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

“just… i used to date someone, who loved parties.” you murmured. “he was in beta tau.”

gojo’s movements stilled. beta tau was basically alpha phis rival frat. the quiet slosh of water and noodles was the only sound in the small kitchen now.

you didn’t look up when you said his name. “sukuna.”

a cold weight dropped into his stomach. his hand tightened around the ladle, knuckles going pale.

of course it was sukuna.

that smug, inked-up bastard with a mouth full of sharp teeth and a cruel grin to match. he strutted around campus like he owned it, dripping in designer clothes and superiority. gojo had always hated the way girls fell into his lap like it was gravity—like his name alone was enough to make people forget how rotten he was underneath. he wasn’t charming. he was dangerous, and not in the fun way.

and you… sweet perfect you... you were the last person he wanted to imagine tangled up in sukunas antics.

“he wasn’t very kind to me,” you continued, voice barely more than a whisper. “he’d always say the right things in public, always knew how to look like the perfect boyfriend. but when it was just us… he made me feel small. like a doll on a shelf.”

satoru slowly turned around to face you.

you still wouldn’t look at him, like you were ashamed, and for some reason, that hurt more than anything.

“did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice sharp with something unfamiliar—something cold and furious.

your eyes lifted, wide and startled.

“no. not-not like that. he never laid a hand on me. he just…” you exhaled shakily. “he liked having a girlfriend that looked good standing next to him. didn’t care what i wanted. what i liked. he wanted a prize. not a girlfriend.”

the silence that followed was heavy. satoru felt it in his teeth, in the pounding of his heart.

you looked up through your lashes, nervous.

gojo didn’t speak for a moment.

he couldn’t.

his thoughts were racing, hot and restless. the image of sukuna’s smug face flashed behind his eyes—tattoos curling around his temples like they meant something, all swagger and sharp edges. he remembered seeing him once, dragging some girl by the wrist through a party like she was furniture. wait... was that you?

his chest ached.

“he’s a fucking cunt,” gojo finally muttered, voice low and bitter. “a spoiled, narcissistic freak who doesn’t know how to care about anything that doesn’t worship the ground he walks on.”

you blinked at him. your expression was unreadable, unsure.

he rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. “i just, i hate that he made you feel that way. like you weren’t… enough. you’re more than enough.”

a quiet beat passed.

your eyes were widened as you muttered out a quiet, “thank you."

he turned back to the stove, jaw clenched tight. his grip on the ladle loosened as he focused on the task again, but something simmered under his skin hotter than the water in the pot.

when the ramen was finally done, he ladled it gently into two mismatched bowls. he didn’t speak, didn’t push, didn’t dare reach for you, like touching you would break you.

he set yours down in front of you carefully.

and when you reached out, just the slightest brush of your fingers over his wrist, it was like the spark of something that had always been there, just waiting.

he swallowed.

he thought he’d known what this was. a bet. a game. something stupid between frat boys with too much ego.

but now, sitting across from you with your lips curled softly around the rim of a spoon and the warmth of your touch still ghosting over his skin, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

and he wasn’t sure he could survive the fallout when this all came crashing down.

you ended up staying for ramen, then a movie on his laptop, curled under one of his big blankets with your knees tucked under you. he let you pick the film, a cozy romcom he secretly kind of liked. and halfway through, your shoulder brushed his.

you didn’t pull away.

his heart beat out of rhythm.

he should’ve told you then, he knew he was too far gone to not tell you how this all started.

he could’ve said it was stupid—just a bet, just a frat-boy dare. that it was about the money until it wasn’t. that it wasn’t fair to you, and he knew that, and he was sorry.

but you were looking at him like he wasn’t the president of a frat house. like he was someone safe.

and so instead, he said nothing.

hours later, after walking you back and watching you disappear behind your dorm’s glass doors, gojo found himself back on the balcony. it was after midnight, the sky deep and dark above the rooftops, clouds moving slow like they had nowhere to be.

the door creaked behind him.

suguru.

he stepped out with two cans in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied low. “figured you’d be here.”

“figured you’d be asleep.”

suguru handed him a can. “couldn’t. my roommate’s snoring like a dying chainsaw.”

they sat in silence for a while. gojo sipped. the wind moved through the trees.

“so?” suguru asked finally. “you tap out yet?”

gojo’s head tipped back against the railing.

“no,” he muttered, replying reluctantly. “i’m still in.”

suguru’s eyebrows raised. “really? after all that poetic shit you were spewing the other night?”

“i know.”

“dude. she’s sweet. and i know you’re catching feelings.”

gojo’s voice was quiet. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“so why not just end it?” suguru asked, genuinely confused now. “i mean, yeah, i wanna win my $2k, but if she’s getting under your skin like this—”

“because if i quit the bet, it’s like admitting she was a target from the start.”

suguru was silent.

gojo exhaled, voice low. “and she doesn’t deserve that. she deserves to believe this started from something better than a fucking dare.”

“but it didn’t.”

“i know,” gojo snapped. “but it became something better.”

suguru took a slow sip of his beer.

“you’re in deep, man.”

“tell me something i don’t know.”

“okay,” suguru said lazily, “you’re also kind of a dumbass.”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “yeah.”

they sat a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the flags on the roof.

finally, suguru muttered, “just don’t hurt her.”

gojo looked out into the dark.

“that’s the one thing i’m trying not to do.”

the next morning came too quickly.

the sunlight was already pouring through the slats of gojo’s blinds when he finally gave up on pretending to sleep. the golden light did nothing to warm the chill lodged deep in his chest. he lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on the rise and fall of his chest, which felt too shallow, too sharp. like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe without aching.

you haunted his thoughts.

he saw you when he closed his eyes—sitting on the edge of his bed in that oversized hoodie, hands cradling the ramen bowl he’d made like it was something precious. your knees tucked close, your fingers trembling just slightly when you lifted your chopsticks. he’d noticed. of course he had. noticed everything. how you hesitated before speaking, how you smiled with your mouth but not always with your eyes. how the word “sukuna” tasted like poison on your tongue, and how your whole body had tensed when you said his name.

it made something ugly twist in gojo’s stomach.

sukuna.

he hated even thinking the name now, though once upon a time they’d shared the same parties, the same reckless orbit of greek life. sukuna was one of those guys you couldn’t ignore—loud, magnetic, built like a devil with charm sharp enough to cut. everyone had stories about him. girls, mostly. none of them good.

gojo remembered one story in particular—barely even a memory now, just a flash of a scene. a party. loud music, dim lights. sukuna dragging a girl by the wrist through the crowd like she was some piece of luggage he couldn’t be bothered to carry. she’d looked shaken. small. he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face.

but now he couldn’t stop wondering—what if that girl had been you?

gojo sat up abruptly in bed, chest tight, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs. he raked a hand through his silver-white hair, breathing hard.

the worst part wasn’t that he hadn’t done anything that night. it was that he hadn’t noticed. not really. not in a way that mattered. back then, things like that just blurred into the background noise of frat parties. girls crying in bathrooms. couples fighting in corners. someone stumbling out with mascara running down her cheeks.

god. how many red flags had he ignored?

a knock sounded at his door.

he ignored it.

a beat passed, and then the door creaked open anyway. suguru never waited for permission, especially not when gojo was spiraling.

“jesus,” suguru muttered as he stepped in, two to-go cups of shitty black coffee in hand. “you look like a demon crawled into your mouth and died.”

gojo didn’t even blink. “you’re one to talk. you’ve worn that same hoodie all week.”

“five days,” suguru corrected. “and it’s called sustainable fashion.”

he crossed the room and dropped one of the cups on the nightstand before flopping down at the edge of gojo’s bed. the mattress dipped with his weight, but gojo still didn’t move. he was hunched over now, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them, eyes locked on the floor like it had done something to offend him.

“you wanna talk about it?” suguru asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. “or are we just gonna sit here marinating in existential dread?”

gojo let out a slow breath.

“she told me about her ex, sukuna.”

suguru raised an eyebrow. “oh?”

“last night. while we were watching that dumb movie. she just… opened up. said he made her feel like a prop. like he only wanted her because she looked good on his arm. and when he didn’t need her, he’d just," gojo’s jaw clenched. “he’d drop her. ignore her. talk over her. like she was a fucking purse he forgot he was holding.”

suguru whistled low. “that tracks.”

gojo’s voice dropped, hoarse. “i didn’t know it was her.”

suguru frowned. “what do you mean?”

“i remembered this one party. he was dragging a girl out by the wrist, just yanking her through the crowd like she was nothing. i didn’t say anything. didn’t even think twice. but now—what if that was her? what if i saw that happening and i just… let it?”

he ran a hand down his face, the guilt pressing heavier now.

suguru didn’t answer for a long moment. then, slowly, he sat up straighter.

“satoru,” he said quietly. “you didn’t know.”

“that’s not an excuse.”

“no,” suguru agreed. “but it’s the truth.”

gojo shook his head. “i should’ve seen it. i should’ve noticed. i should’ve cared.”

“you care now.”

“i lied to her.”

suguru fell silent.

gojo stood up suddenly, the coffee still untouched on the nightstand. he began pacing, his bare feet whispering across the hardwood floor.

“she was so honest with me, man. sat there in my bed and told me about the worst parts of herself—about how she felt like she was broken after him. and i just sat there, playing the good guy, letting her think i was different. letting her believe in me. when the whole reason i even talked to her was because of a fucking bet.”

the word hit like a punch.

suguru leaned back on his hands, watching his friend come apart.

“you still haven’t told her.”

gojo let out a bitter laugh. “how the hell do i tell her that, suguru? ‘hey, remember when i bumped into you at the café? yeah, turns out i only asked you out because you were part of a game i was trying to win’? that won’t hurt her. that’ll ruin her.”

suguru didn’t argue.

gojo stopped pacing, facing the window now, watching students pass by on the sidewalk outside. people laughing, sipping iced coffees, dragging skateboards behind them. the world kept turning, oblivious to the storm in his chest.

“i think i’m in love with her.”

it came out quietly. like a confession. like a truth he hadn’t been ready to say until this exact moment.

suguru blinked. “you think?”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “i know.”

silence settled between them. suguru finally stood, grabbing the untouched coffee and offering it out to gojo like a peace offering.

“you’re in deep, huh?”

gojo took the cup without meeting his eyes. “drowning.”

~

meanwhile, in your dorm room, you sat curled up on your twin bed, your legs tucked under a fleece throw blanket, your favorite oversized mug cupped in both hands. the tea inside had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. you were staring at gojos contact reminiscing about what he had said to you before letting you go off to your dorm.

'thanks for trusting me with that. you’re not broken. you’re still here. that matters more than anything. sleep well, angel.'

you’d been thinking about that for almost ten minutes, trying not to cry.

the word angel shouldn’t have made your heart skip. but it did.

you didn’t know what this was, what you and gojo were becoming, but for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt like you could breathe. like someone actually saw you, the real you, not just the version that looked good in pictures or sounded impressive on paper.

and that terrified you.

because you’d believed sukuna, too. once.

you’d fallen for his smile, his confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the center of the universe, until you weren’t. until you were just another trophy. another girl to brag about. another reason for people to envy him.

you still remembered the way he’d spoken to you in public—possessive, controlling, sometimes mocking—and how quickly he could flip the script when you tried to call him out.

'you’re being too sensitive. don’t embarrass me like that. you should be grateful i even brought you.'

it had taken so long to untangle yourself from him. and longer still to stop blaming yourself for the way he’d treated you.

but last night, when gojo looked at you, really looked at you, it didn’t feel like pity or lust or even casual interest. it felt like something quiet. steady. real.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

your phone buzzed.

gojo: you awake?

you smiled before you could stop yourself, thumbing a reply with hesitant fingers.

n/n 💗 : barely. why?

gojo: sweet! i owe you another ramen night. but this time i’ll actually let you pick the movie.

your heart did a little backflip. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, cheeks warm.

n/n 💗 only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through.

gojo: i can’t promise that. but i can promise snacks ! 😁

you laughed, the sound breaking the stillness of your room like sunlight through fog.

maybe this was real.

maybe, just maybe, gojo was exactly who he seemed.

and maybe that scared you even more than sukuna ever did.

~

the night went by fast, it always did with satoru. like the one previous you had spent it eating snacks and watching movies on his bed huddled infront of a laptop. now, most don't find watching random romcoms in a frat guys room very appealing, but to you it felt safe, like a home away from home.

he was your home away from home.

now, you were walking with satoru around campus as you had planned over text about an hour ago.

the midday sun hung lazily over campus, casting a hazy golden warmth across the walkways and tree-lined paths. students moved around like streams of color—some laughing in groups, others rushing to class, earbuds in, eyes down. but in the middle of it all, it felt like just the two of you.

you walked quietly beside gojo, your small hand brushing the edge of his hoodie now and then when your steps got too close. he didn’t mind. he never did. if anything, he leaned into it, like it soothed something in him just to be near you. he adjusted his stride to match yours without thinking, even though his legs were long enough to cross campus in five minutes flat.

but he didn’t want fast. he wanted this. you.

you were heading to your bio class, and he had no reason to be anywhere near the science building. but he still showed up at the café ten minutes before your lecture started, hands in his pockets, grinning like it was the best part of his day. because it was.

and god, you were so pretty when you looked surprised to see him. like you didn’t expect someone like him to show up for someone like you.

but that was the thing. he’d never met anyone like you.

“you really don’t have to walk me every time,” you murmured, eyes low, voice soft and unsure. like you didn’t want to seem like a burden.

and it killed him. how you always shrank yourself, always made yourself smaller—as if your presence was anything less than his favorite fucking thing.

“yeah, but then who’s gonna make sure you don’t trip over your own shadow?” he teased gently.

you let out a quiet laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. your fingers were delicate, your smile bashful, and gojo felt the urge to say something completely insane like marry me.

he didn’t, obviously. but it lived in his throat.

he watched you with the kind of attention he never gave anything else. memorized the curve of your cheek, the soft press of your lips when you were thinking, the way you glanced at him like you were still trying to believe he was real. and when you looked away, flustered by your own laugh, he swore the sun hit you different.

you were always cute. painfully cute. but in that moment? he was dizzy with it.

“besides,” he added, smirking, “how else am i supposed to get my daily dose of cuteness?”

your steps slowed. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said, bumping your shoulder. “you’re good for my blood pressure or whatever.”

you shook your head, blushing so hard you could barely walk straight. and he could’ve died right there. from the way you smiled at your shoes, from how shy you looked just standing next to him. like he wasn’t completely, pathetically obsessed with you already.

he wanted to tell you you were beautiful.

not just hot, not the kind of thing he said to girls at parties, not anything casual. but soft. lovely. untouchable. yours is the kind of face you write songs about. you look like you belong in someone’s arms at sunset.

he wanted to tell you he dreamed about you.

he wanted to tell you he was in love with you, probably more than he should be.

but all he said was, “i think we should watch the kissing booth next time you come over.”

you smiled, small and bashful again, and it tugged something deep in his chest. something real.

and as you walked in companionable silence, gojo glanced down at you. at your long lashes, the curve of your mouth, the way you hugged your books to your chest like a shield. you were so soft. so careful. like you were afraid of taking up space.

but he saw everything.

he saw the way you tried to be brave, even when you were scared. he saw how you still smiled, still tried, even when the world had been cruel to you.

he wanted to wrap you up and protect you from everything. from the past, from shitty exes, from the version of himself that used to not care about anyone or anything.

you made him care.

and that terrified him. because there was still something he hadn’t told you.

“can i ask you something?” he said suddenly, voice quieter now.

“of course, satoru."

he swallowed. “would you… hate me if i wasn’t exactly who you thought i was?”

your wide eyes met his. soft. concerned. not an ounce of judgment.

“hmm? what do y' mean?”

he stopped walking. the sun filtered through the leaves above, casting shadows across your face like a painting.

“what if i told you i’ve made mistakes?” he said. “like, bad ones. the kind that make you want to erase yourself and start over.”

your fingers clutched your book tighter, but you didn’t flinch.

“i think we all have those kinds of mistakes,” you said gently. “but that doesn’t make you a bad person. just human.”

and gojo, god he felt like the ground had disappeared under him.

because you meant it. even without knowing the truth. even with your soft voice and your shy little glances and the way you stood so close, so trusting. you believed in him. still.

he never wanted to break that look in your eyes.

“i never want to hurt you,” he whispered.

you reached out, fingers trembling a little as they curled around his wrist. so delicate. so warm.

“if it’s something from before…” you said, barely above a whisper. “you can tell me. i won’t run away.”

you probably meant it, too. even though your heart was fragile, even though your past left you aching in ways you didn’t talk about, you were still reaching for him.

and that… god, that broke him. he stared at your hand. you were so small. so good. too good for him. and yet… here you were.

he should’ve told you right then. ripped it off like a band-aid.

but all he could think about was how beautiful you looked when you trusted him. how sweet your voice sounded when you called him satoru. how much it would hurt when that melted into betrayal.

so instead, he smiled.

“you’re dangerous when you talk like that,” he said, voice light again. “i’m two seconds from spilling my soul.”

you tilted your head, unconvinced. “satoru…”

he grinned. “i promise i’ll tell you. just not today.”

you hesitated, then nodded slowly. “okay. but i’m holding you to it.”

his chest twisted.

you shouldn’t be so kind to him.

but you were.

and it made him want to be worthy of you.

“deal,” he said. and as you started walking again, he let his hand brush yours. not quite holding it. but close.

close enough that maybe, just maybe you could still forgive him when the truth finally came out.

because he already knew:

he loved you.

he loved you more than anything else in this fucked up world.

and he’d do anything to keep that look in your eyes a little longer.

~

it started with suguru flopping onto the leather couch in the alpha phi common room, yawning like he hadn’t just come from class.

“so,” he said, cracking open a cold can of something carbonated and probably stolen from the communal fridge. “are you ever gonna introduce her to the rest of us, or are you just gonna keep hiding your little girlfriend away like a dragon hoarding treasure?”

gojo didn’t even look up from his phone. he was already typing out his good morning text to you.

“first of all,” he said, thumbs moving fast, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“right,” suguru drawled. “you just text her twenty-four seven, walk her to class, and cancel beer pong night so you can rewatch spirited away on your couch with her.”

“it’s a good movie,” gojo muttered.

“you hate that movie.”

“i like it now.”

suguru snorted, propping his feet up on the table. “you’re gone, man.”

gojo leaned back in his seat, a lopsided grin creeping over his face despite himself. he didn’t bother denying it. what was the point?

movie nights had started casually. he’d invited you over under the pretense of “redeeming your taste in cinema.” you’d blushed and giggled, tugging your sleeves over your hands and asking, “does that mean you’re gonna make me watch transformers?”

“don’t tempt me,” he’d said, already queuing it up.

but instead, you’d picked soft, strange little films—quiet ones with too many close-ups and too little dialogue. and something about sitting on the worn-out alpha phi couch with you, shoulders just barely touching, watching the flicker of light dance over your face as you whispered, “this part always makes me cry,” had rewired his brain entirely.

you’d grown braver, little by little.

the first night, you’d sat on the far end of the bed, legs curled beneath you, body coiled tight like you expected to be mocked or judged at any moment. gojo had kept the mood light, cracking jokes, tossing popcorn at your head, playing the fool.

but by the third night, you’d fallen asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

and he hadn’t moved. not for an hour. not even when his arm went numb. not even when suguru walked in, saw you, and mouthed simp before tiptoeing out.

by the fourth night, you were wearing one of his hoodies.

and by the fifth, you were stealing all his blankets and kicking him when he tried to take them back.

it was getting bad. it was getting real.

so when suguru pushed again, raising a brow over the rim of his can and saying, “i’m serious, you should bring her to the party this weekend. the guys are starting to think you made her up,” gojo didn’t roll his eyes this time.

gojo narrowed his eyes. “what do you think of her? isn't she in your ethics?"

“quiet. polite. smart. a little skittish.”

he meant it kindly, but gojo’s jaw tensed anyway. “she’s been through some shit.”

“i figured.”

“sukuna.”

suguru winced. “fuck.”

“yeah.”

there was a beat of silence. then suguru said, “you like her.”

gojo didn’t answer. he didn’t have to.

“bring her,” suguru said, softer now. “if you’re serious. let her see that not all frat guys are trash.”

gojo looked down at his phone again, at your name on the screen, at the little pink heart next to it. then he nodded, almost to himself.

“yeah,” he said. “okay.”

~

you met up on thursday afternoon, by the west quad fountain where the sun always hit just right and the flower beds looked like something out of a disney movie. gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against the stone ledge, phone in hand.

“i was starting to think you stood me up,” he teased as you approached.

you tucked your chin down shyly, smiling. “you’re five minutes early.”

“and you’re three minutes late.”

you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. god, you were cute. the cute jeans you wore today captured your curved hips perfectly, and your lip gloss shimmered when the light caught it. your hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon that matched your cute sweater.

he wanted to bottle you up. keep you. never let anything hurt you again.

“so,” he said, hands in his hoodie pockets, “my frat’s throwing a party this weekend.”

you froze, just slightly.

“you… want me to come?” you asked.

he tilted his head. “only if you want to. no pressure. i just... my friends wanna meet you.”

you looked down at your shoes, worrying your bottom lip. he noticed. of course he did.

“you don’t have to wear anything crazy,” he added quickly. “it’s chill. no themes. just music and drinks and—”

“i want to,” you said quietly.

he blinked. “yeah?”

you nodded. “i just… don’t have anything to wear.”

you didn’t say it like a joke. you said it like a confession.

gojo softened. “wanna show me what you’ve got? we can pick something together.”

you hesitated, then nodded.

“okay.”

~

your dorm was adorable. pink. soft.

he took it all in the second he stepped inside. the plush pillows shaped like hearts, the lace curtains, the fuzzy white rug by your bed. shelves lined with figurines, pastel notebooks stacked in a corner, fairy lights framing your mirror.

it smelled like strawberries and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t name.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “this is the cutest room i've ever seen."

you laughed, cheeks warming. “sorry. it’s a lot, huh?”

“no,” he said, spinning in a slow circle. “it’s so you.”

he meant it. he loved it. he loved you.

you opened your closet and began sifting through hangers, pulling out a couple of outfits and holding them up for inspection.

“i don’t really wanna wear something… like this,” you said, voice softer now as you held up a tight, low-cut mini dress. “i used to wear stuff like this to sukuna’s parties. because he liked it.”

gojo’s jaw clenched.

“he used to pick what i wore,” you continued, almost like you were talking to yourself. “he said it made me look ‘fuckable.’”

gojo stepped forward, gentle but firm.

“you don’t ever have to wear something like that again,” he said. “not for me. not for anyone.”

you looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“wear what makes you feel good,” he added. “what makes you feel safe.”

you nodded slowly, turning back to your closet.

in the end, you chose what made you feel the most comfortable.

“i'll just wear this,” you said. "feels normal."

gojo beamed.

“then it’s perfect.”

~

you didn’t know it yet, but he’d already cleared it with suguru. made sure the music wouldn’t be too loud, that the crowd wouldn’t be too rowdy, that you’d have somewhere to sit if you got overwhelmed. he was thinking ten steps ahead.

because he didn’t want this to be like sukuna’s parties.

he wanted this one to be yours.

~

you heard the party before you saw it, music pulsing through the ground, the kind of bass-heavy beat that made your ribs vibrate and your bones feel hollow. the frat house loomed ahead like a palace of chaos: lights flashing from the second-story windows, silhouettes flitting past the curtains, laughter and shouting spilling out through the open door.

you paused just outside, nerves buzzing like static under your skin.

“whoa,” you breathed, fingers tightening around the sleeve of gojo’s hoodie. “it’s… a lot.”

he looked down at you with that soft, easy smile, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “it is a lot,” he agreed. “want to run? we can say we got kidnapped by squirrels.”

you laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky but genuine. “tempting.”

his palm made slow, reassuring circles against your back. “we’ll take it slow, yeah? you’re with me.”

you nodded, and with that, gojo led you up the steps.

the moment the two of you crossed the threshold, the temperature changed. warmth and sweat and alcohol thick in the air. bodies pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of red solo cups and hazy eyes. someone yelled gojo’s name, and the room shifted.

it was like time stopped for half a second.

then the crowd surged, boys calling out, heads turning, eyes locking on the tall, white-haired frat boy walking in with someone clinging gently to his sleeve. someone who wasn’t tall or loud or a blonde girl in a skin-tight mini dress. someone who didn’t fit the mold of “gojo satoru’s usual.”

someone who was you.

“no fucking way,” one guy barked, elbowing his friend. “is that—?”

“holy shit, gojo’s got a girlfriend?”

“what happened to the dumb cheerleader from gamma?”

the murmurs spread like wildfire. you felt them, even if you couldn’t catch every word. the stares burned hot, and suddenly your skin felt too tight.

but gojo just grinned like he didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

he dipped down, lips brushing your ear. “ignore them. they’ve never seen a real girl before.”

you flushed, gripping his arm tighter.

the house was bigger inside than it looked, sprawling with rooms that all bled into one another. the main floor was packed, but gojo expertly steered you through the chaos, guiding you toward a quieter alcove near the stairs. you could tell he was trying to give you a second to breathe.

“there he is!” a voice called, and suguru appeared from the crowd, hair tied back, black gauges catching the light. he was nursing a beer and wearing that same smirk he always had in class, cool, unbothered, like nothing could ever surprise him.

but when his eyes landed on you, they lit up with something close to recognition.

“hey,” he said, stepping forward. “ethics class, right?”

you blinked, this was the guy you used to have abit of a crush on before gojo... “yeah... geto?”

he nodded, and you relaxed just a little. suguru was quiet in class, but he always had a pen behind his ear and never made you feel stupid when you got nervous speaking up.

“i knew gojo was full of shit when he said he was just ‘casually seeing someone,’” suguru said, glancing at his friend with a teasing grin. “but damn, you’re even cuter in person.”

your cheeks flamed. gojo rolled his eyes and slung an arm around your shoulder, tugging you close like he could shield you from the world.

you and gojo never really established what you were, but now you at least knew he was telling people you two were 'seeing eachother.'

“back off,” he said with a mock growl. “she’s fragile. like a baby deer.”

“she’s not fragile,” suguru said mildly, giving you a wink. “but she does look like adorably clueless.”

you laughed at that, and suguru grinned, satisfied.

a few more of gojo’s frat brothers filtered over. nanami, with his blond hair and sharp eyes; toji, towering and terrifying until he said something about how “adorable” your shoes were; even shoko, the only girl in the group, who gave you a once-over and muttered, “thank god. i was starting to think gojo only liked girls who talked in hashtags.”

they were loud and teasing, but none of them made you feel the way sukuna’s crowd used to.

sukuna’s parties had been darker somehow. colder. always something bitter in the air. you remembered standing in corners alone while he disappeared, remembered the way he used to show you off like a new toy. like you were there to prove a point. he used to demand you wear short skirts, high heels, tops that made you feel naked. he’d touch your thigh too hard when you sat, whisper in your ear things that made you gross small.

you’d show up already tense, already braced.

but this? this was different.

you looked up at gojo now, laughing at something suguru said, and your chest ached.

he’d asked what you wanted to wear. had told you you looked beautiful even when you were wrapped in a cardigan. he’d helped you tie the ribbon in your hair and kissed your forehead like it was sacred.

you were still nervous, still out of your element—but you weren’t scared.

gojo nudged you gently. “want a drink? something mild?”

you nodded, and he guided you toward the kitchen, never letting his hand leave yours.

he poured you a soda himself, skipping the sketchy jungle juice, and brought you a paper straw because you’d mentioned once that plastic ones made your teeth feel weird. then he leaned against the counter, watching you sip like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“you’re killin’ me, y’know,” he said casually.

you blinked. “what?”

“look at you.” his voice dropped, all affection. “walking in here like a dream in that little dress. making everyone fall in love with you. it’s rude, honestly.”

you ducked your head, overwhelmed. “stop…”

“can’t,” he said, and then leaned down, brushing his nose against your temple. “i’ve got it bad.”

you smiled into your drink, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

the kitchen door swung open and more people spilled in, so gojo guided you out again, weaving through the house toward the back room. it was quieter there—a pool table, a few couches, ambient music humming from a speaker.

you sat together, close but not quite touching.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice lower now, meant only for you.

you nodded. “yeah. just… this is different.”

“different bad or different good?”

you looked at him. “good.”

he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all night. “you’re doing amazing, by the way.”

you smiled. “you always say that.”

“’cause it’s always true.”

the next few minutes passed in easy conversation. someone from gojo’s econ class came by and said something dumb, and you laughed, hiding your smile in his shoulder. he lit up like you’d just given him a trophy.

people drifted in and out of the room, some lingering to meet “gojo’s girl,” others sneaking glances like they were watching a myth unfold. he let them look. he kept his arm around you.

when you reached for your phone to check the time, he caught your hand and held it, threading his fingers through yours without hesitation.

“you wanna leave soon?” he asked softly.

you bit your lip. “can we stay a little longer? i’m… actually having fun.”

his smile cracked wide, full of boyish delight. “you got it.”

and in that moment, as he tugged you a little closer, as the music pulsed and the voices rose and fell, you realized something that made your heart squeeze.

you felt safe.

not because the party wasn’t wild. not because the stares had stopped. not because your dress was longer or your shoes more comfortable.

you felt safe because he was here.

because gojo satoru, life of the party, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

and somehow, that made all the difference.

[tossawary]

Cracky SVSSS Canon Divergence AU: Shang Qinghua (Airplane Bro) gets it into his head to try and "fix" Qijiu's relationship in order to 1) make his own work life easier and also 2) hopefully avert the ruthless destruction of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect by distracting Shen Qingqiu away from being a real piece of shit whenever the protagonist finally shows up. (Luo Binghe isn't here yet.)

Unfortunately, he gets this idea because he accidentally slept with Yue Qingyuan. It was during a late budgetary meeting. They'd both been slightly drunk. Yue Qingyuan had been sad and Shang Qinghua had been sad AND horny. It was a "bro helping another bro out" kind of thing! Shang Qinghua still can't really believe it happened. But it can't happen again! Bad idea!

Shang Qinghua encounters Shen Qingqiu in a brothel with half a plan on how to start unraveling that much damage, only... uh... Well, Shen Qingqiu got the wrong idea about what Shang Qinghua wanted from him, and Shang Qinghua's favorite type unfortunately happens to be "scary and mean and very pretty". Fuck! He accidentally slept with Shen Qingqiu too!

So, okay, back to Yue Qingyuan, who will definitely be the more reasonable person to talk to, because he hides all of his massive trauma like a polite person! Oh, shit, Yue Qingyuan is pretty hot, isn't he? And is coming on to Shang Qinghua again for a casual fuck... and whoops, the bad idea happened again! Fuck! When Shang Qinghua tries to have a productive conversation afterwards, Yue Qingyuan even confides in him a little. Yeah, bro, it IS super obvious that you're totally hung up on Shen Qingqiu, and oh, shit, you are NEVER going to make the first move, are you?

Okay, maybe "fixing" these guys is just not possible. Mistakes! He has made them! Shang Qinghua is just going to stay out of things moving forward. He's going to avoid them now! Oh, shit, Shen Qingqiu wants to know why Shang Qinghua was staring at him in that meeting and is slamming against a wall and- uh. Oh, wow. That's hot.

"Both of them?" Mobei-Jun says later, too bemused to be jealous. (Moshang aren't a thing yet. Maybe not ever a thing like that in this AU. Demons also have different societal conventions even so.)

"BOTH OF THEM!" Shang Qinghua wails, lying facedown on the floor of his house. He doesn't know why he's actually venting to Mobei-Jun, but he has NO ONE ELSE. He's getting SO well laid, sure, but the constant nagging feeling that he's going to get maimed this way is really putting a damper on the sex. Qijiu really, truly, honestly do NOT know that he's sleeping with both of them. "What is wrong with these people?! Why is their taste so bad? I made everything so much worse..."

"Stop fucking them then," Mobei-Jun suggests, as helpful as ever, which is not helpful at all. Mobei-Jun has never been helpful to anyone in his life. When he's not mildly annoyed by it, he thinks this shit is hysterically funny.

[ybklix]

late night confessions

★ pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

✦summary: It's not a secret that you like your older brother's best friend, but at least you think neither your brother nor his friend knows it, yet after you show up unexpectedly on one of their boys' nights out, Jisung, his best friend, can't control himself and ends up revealing a truth you never thought you'd hear.

♡ genre: smut, friends to lovers kinda, han is your older brother's bff

♡ warnings: MDNI, fingering, clitplay, slight grinding, unprotected sex.

word count: 4.4k

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist forms

୧ ‧₊˚request by anon₊ ˚⊹♡

a/n: wait, i had this bro's bff idea with jeongin but made it for jisung heh

divider by fairytopia

It was unbelievable. You gasped in annoyance, unable to believe that this was how your night was ending, you just had a run of bad luck and, to top it all off, after your terrible day at work, your car stopped working, it wouldn't start and you didn't understand why, you were a girl, not a car expert. Plus you had left almost at the end, leaving you all alone in the parking lot, without asking for help.

You had no choice but to call your brother, you were a bit embarrassed to ask strangers for help; but your calls were in vain, Seungmin didn't pick up your call. You were stressed and frustrated, you were supposed to go to sleep at a friend's house and leave Seungmin alone, as you had previously agreed, since you had started living with him a year ago, settling in the city, but sometimes he would require privacy and you understood that perfectly… however tonight was one of those nights when you didn't feel friendly, much less like seeing your friend, you just wanted to go to your bed and cry for no apparent reason and at the same time because of everything.

You tried to find some help on the internet, searching and asking for contacts, but it was Saturday night and no one was available. You looked at your car a bit upset, upset that life was suddenly like this and that the only man you had in your life wasn't answering your call. You had no father to call in a hurry, let alone a boyfriend, you felt alone.

You swallowed your pride and sadness, looking for help, but it really seemed like you had nothing going for you, there was no one to help you, there were shops around, being manned by women with little knowledge of cars, you didn't know whether to feel grateful that suddenly there was no man around, or completely useless and stranded there. You gave up, got a ride home, without even letting Seungmin know you were on your way, he wasn't answering anyway and you weren't going to wait, you'd take care of your car tomorrow, you hoped.

When you arrived, everyone was in for a surprise; you found Seungmin drinking with his best friend, Han Jisung, on the living room floor, around them were bottles and on the small table a box of fried chicken, you were really hungry you would go without shame to have a piece, although Jisung's presence alone intimidated you, when you saw him… your world stopped for a second, you didn't expect to see him, you hadn't seen him for a long time, and for him, the feeling was very mutual, he was drunk, but he could distinguish perfectly that it was you, the girl who had driven him secretly crazy, because you were Seungmin's younger sister. And you stood still, before you could say anything or move forward, Seungmin got up from the floor, with an almost offended expression on his face.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing here?” your brother asked, drawing Jisung's attention.

You grimaced, you knew it wasn't the best time, your brother was kind of drunk with his best friend and you came in unexpectedly, but you were kind of sensitive that it really struck you that that was the first thing he said to you.

“Seungmo, calm down, it's your sister… hey Y/n, do you want fried chicken?” spoke Han, nervous and trying to get closer to you.

“Don't offer her fried chicken…” replied Seungmin, but you didn't really care and approached Jisung to eat some.

Han awkwardly and tenderly patted your head, you looked up at your brother's annoyed expression and put the food down, feeling embarrassed, feeling that Han saw you as a little girl after all this time. You practically knew each other all your lives, Han was the only son of your father's close friend; he was the same age as Seungmin so it made the two of them inseparable, but he couldn't help but feel something for you as you grew up together, he knew every part of you, seeing you with different eyes and, it wasn't until a couple of years ago that your father passed away, so Seungmin really worried, he let you live with him; putting Han at a crossroads, seeing you every time he had to see his best friend.

Han looked at you fondly, wanting to know what you were doing there too, how you got there, why you were there.

“My car broke down, I think,” you replied.

“You think?” your brother replied, raising an eyebrow, slowly returning to being the responsible Seungmin.

“Well, it just wouldn't start no matter how hard I tried and…”

“Where did you leave it?”

“In the car parking lot at work…”

“So did you get it fixed or…? What are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“No… I came here by taxi and…”

“You really didn't ask for help, did you?” claimed Seungmin, knowing that you are shy.

“No it wasn't like... yes I did…”

Seungmin was a little drunk as to process so he simply said:

“I'll go fix it.”

You got up right away, confused.

“No, I'll have it fixed tomorrow, really.”

“I'll go check it out, Han, come with me.”

Han didn't think about it, he really didn't know exactly what was going on, but he tried to stand up, staggering in the process, so you quickly held him tightly so he wouldn't fall, he smiled apologetically and saw you with a deep look as he felt the strong grip of your hand on his arm.

“Shit, Han is drunk, it won't do me any good, I'll go alone.”

Seungmin hurried to the door to grab his car keys to which you also went behind him, confused and to make sure your brother is alright and not merely acting on impulse and in a hopelessly drunk state.

“Seungmin…” you tried to meet his gaze.

“What?”

You looked at him, he looked serious, he was so hard to read, but he towards you was not, “I'm fine” he repeated, “Besides I want some ramen and there's no more here, I'll be back soon, I'll drive you back to your car in the morning so you can have it. Take care of Han in the meanwhile.”

You were about to say something, to stop him since the situation was puzzling you so much… but you noticed a bit of concern in his voice, as if he was really worrying about you and, before you could do anything else, say anything else to him, you heard Han behind you stumble.

“Oops, sorry” he spoke, smiling and unable to keep still.

You sighed and walked back over to him, a bit strange as to what you should do; Han held onto you, dropping his body a bit.

“Mmm, do you think you can give me something comfortable to sleep in? I'll make myself comfortable on the couch” Han tried to say, recognizing that he couldn't be at ease knowing that you were alone with him, his senses slowly returning, it was better that he put himself to sleep before he did something crazy, or so he thought.

You swallowed your saliva nervously, his closeness and his deep voice made you nervous, he really looked handsome today, with his hair slightly fluffed and long, his pretty face with a stubble still maintaining the appearance of his clean and smooth look and his attire of black, perfectly highlighting his nice tanned skin, you felt bad… he was your brother's best friend you had known all your life, but sometimes you wanted him so badly.

“Sure” you replied, taking him a few steps to the couch and leaving him there.

Without thinking you walked to Seungmin's room but stopped at the door, wondering what the fuck you were going to do looking for clothes for Han, who watched you walk away with a smile on his face, thinking mischievously that you really had grown up. You turned around, to tell him that he could go by himself to get the clothes and you realized that Han had already stood up and was walking on his own without help and, without staggering so much, he couldn't help himself and shamelessly walked into your room, sitting on your bed and admiring every part of the space, you rushed in behind him, your shame reflecting on your face, not knowing how to tell him that he should get out of there right now, but you saw him, so happy sitting on your bed, his tender smile lifting his cheeks.

“Your room smells good,” he said.

Han had dreamed of that for a long time, being in every aspect of your life, getting to know you and, he took advantage of the fact that you considered him a drunk acting senseless, to get close to you, he thought it was kind of pathetic, but sober he would never have dared to even talk to you, you really put him in a very bad state and you didn't even know it, you had him in the palm of your hand, at your command, when he didn't see you for a long time he missed you and when he saw you often he felt fulfilled.

“Han… I think you should… you can find something comfortable in Seungmin's room and go to sleep” you answered quickly and nervously, seeing him in your room made your hair stand on end.

“Come here” he replied softly but you remained motionless at your door, “Help me stand up a bit” he lied.

You fell for it, and approached him; Han gasped, unable to bear the thought of having you all to himself and breathed in your scent once you were close to him. He watched you, up and down as you reached out your hand for him to take and lean on, but he, feeling his touch against your sweet, warm skin, took hold of your wrist and pulled, shifting your body and making you fall a little awkwardly into his lap. You were surprised and your mind reacted immediately, telling you that the most appropriate thing to do would be to get up instantly, but your body didn't react, Han placed his face by your neck, feeling his warm breath moving slightly some of your hair, he was breathing heavily, with his hands resting on your thighs, you shouldn't, just because you felt a slight pang of guilt inside you, because he was a couple of years older and he was your brother's best friend… but you couldn't understand that at the same time being in his lap felt so good.

“Let's stay like this for a while,” Han whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

You weren't uncomfortable, all you could think about was how good it felt to have him close like you'd never had him before, the last time you'd felt him with his body so close was maybe the brief little hug on your birthday. Yet everything inside you screamed that this wasn't right, that he was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing and that somehow you'd be betraying Seungmin since Han is the one man he trusts his sister with more than anything else in the world…. but now, Han was betraying his best friend by not keeping his conscience clear and thinking of all the dirty scenarios with you and you were starting to notice it… a strange and increasingly prominent hard feeling crashing against your ass, this time you got nervous, thinking the obvious, Han was starting to get aroused.

Han took a deep breath of the smell of your hair; you wouldn't believe the situation to move on so you whispered almost in a whimper, “Han, please…” you didn't know why you were pleading.

He let out a chuckle, "Please what?" he was starting to get cocky, all his power was travelling to his cock and your frail body trembled slightly at the feel of his cock against your ass. Your body reacted normally, an inevitable tension was beginning to build and you were getting wetter and wetter. Han stroked your thighs, desperate to feel only the denim of your jeans, but glad to have you on top of him, fighting your instincts.

Once again, he got close to your ear, finally telling you what he always wanted after long, agonizing years of keeping his crush a secret, after numerous dates with other girls that made him think none of them were you, after eating and tasting the wrong ones, just to fill the emptiness of not having you, until finally having you.

“Y/n, I like you so much, I really do” your heart raced and your whole system stopped working for a second, “I've liked you for a long time and I was stuck not being able to tell you…”

And there it was, everything you had dreamed of hearing for years, your dream come true, the answer to all your questions. You had the courage to turn to look at him, leaving him breathless in mid-sentence, unable to continue speaking and lost on your lips. You didn't really want to take it as an unconscious act on the part of his drunkenness, you really wanted to believe in him and something in his big, bright eyes that night detonated sincerity, so much so that he could speak, as normally as ever, his voice thick and soft at the same time:

“Can I kiss you?”

That was what he said and that was enough to make you begin to doubt reality… did Han Jisung really want to kiss you? After fantasizing about the perfect moment for both of you, this was how it was going to happen… feeling his erection against your ass. Honestly, you weren't complaining, you were both adults capable of making your own decisions, tonight would be for you and, if you had to enjoy Han you would, you would so for all the nights you spent hours thinking about him and he would, for the one girl who brought out a special side of him, sex with feelings, sex with meaning more than carnal desire.

You turned your body, making him moan softly at the friction against his erection, you admired his face for a few seconds and couldn't resist, bringing your lips to his, joining them in a passionate kiss, bringing together the two incredible desires you both had for each other for a long time. Both felt it unreal, caressing each other's lips, colliding and touching each other at a fiery, slow pace.

As you parted you looked at each other, both of you with incredulous looks, but with high expectations that something else might happen there right now. You kissed again, this time more desperate, his hands gripped your waist tightly and you tasted his tongue this time, feeling his cock throbbing under you, you were so excited, open to anything… you had always dreamed that everything would be romantic, your first date, your first kiss, but if that was how the situation was going to turn out, it really didn't matter much to you, it was with Han, after all, you were his dream girl and vice versa.

You separated again just to catch your breath, but you really wanted to live glued to each other, you bit your lip and noticed how he couldn't speak, he had that expression on him that you knew so well… he was stunned, so, wanting to take the first step, since if the two of you stayed shy it wasn't going to get you anywhere, you said:

“We should…” you couldn't find the right way to tell him that you wanted him to fuck you with all his might.

“Don't think I just want to have sex with you, I want to take you on nice dates and hold your hand and…” he rushed in nervously, interrupting you.

You smiled tenderly, he was back to his old Han self; you gave him a quick kiss, confessing on his lips, your nose brushing his, “I like you too, Jisung.” And you stood up abruptly, again making a moan escape his lips as he no longer felt your body against his cock.

“So you wanna have sex?” you added amused, watching him as you raised your eyebrows.

He didn't answer, he thought too much about it when you were already undressing quickly, you needed him desperately. You left Han dumbfounded and with his cock throbbing more and more. Finally, you were only in your underwear, with your dark gaze, biting your lip and with an intense inner fire, you stripped off the only light garments covering your body, leaving you completely naked.

“Y/n…” whispered Han breathlessly, shyly tracing your body.

It was his darkest fantasy, to fuck you and touch you; most of his thoughts were tender and romantic, but when he felt lonely and needy he fantasized about your body, on you moaning his name.

“Come on, Han, do the same for me.”

You asked so cheerfully, now it was he who thought he had returned the usual you, energetic and vivacious, always telling him anything; Han remembered his childhood, always calling his name 'Han this, Han that…', you really used to be close, but his crush on you distanced you without realizing it, until this very moment, you were sharing a moment again, one that transcended all previous ones, it was about to be such a dirty act, but so intimate.

He watched you, with his kind of innocent countenance, opening his eyes and blinking a few times; still, the first thing he did out of instinct was to direct his hand to his pants and, with some embarrassment, pulled them down with his underwear, exposing his needy, slightly curved cock. You looked at him with desire, you never thought that day would come and there you both were; Han finishing undressing, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the edge of your bed.

Your pussy and heart reacting the same way for a man, for Han Jisung, throbbing hard, your heart pumping blood with intensity, your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You smiled in amusement and bent down a little to stretch his jeans completely, leaving the garments on the floor.

Han looked at you with desire, however this time he felt a bit intimidated and needy… he really didn't know what to do or how to treat you, how was the way you enjoyed being touched, he wanted to be perfect for you and for you to enjoy every second, but he was just overthinking more and more.

“Come on, Han, touch me” you asked sincerely, moving closer to him, putting your whole body at his disposal.

He in that position was almost perfectly in front of the height of your breasts, so he raised his gaze and his hands caressed you, running from your ass, your hip, all the way up to your breasts, making you moan at the sensation of his skin finally touching you, making his cock throb with more intensity, covering its tip with precum.

Han played with your breasts some more, squeezing them and caressing your nipples, bringing shocks of excitement and pleasure to your body that you had never felt before. Slowly and smoothly he positioned himself leaning back against the back of your bed, you looked at him smiling and climbed onto your bed, approaching him on your knees, you were about to stand in front of him, but Han in a thick voice said to you:

“Turn around, dear, please.”

You were surprised at the way he said it and that he suddenly told you a soft command which you obeyed. Han had fantasized about fucking you while your back was to him, one of his dark thoughts when loneliness accompanied him, taking you by your hips as you slid your body onto his cock, he was so hard that the slightest touch from you could make him cum and he moaned, as he felt your back press his cock against his lower abdomen.

“Like this?” you asked, unsure of Han's plans, but highly aroused.

He wanted to check how aroused you were for him, he wanted to caress such a sensitive and private part of you before inserting his member into you. He wanted to fulfill all his perversions, but he wanted to be sweet and initiate lovingly with you, so he would wait, he would wait for you so you could know his deepest desires. Right now, he just wanted his fingers between your wet core.

“Spread your legs, just like this…” he ordered you gently and you did, letting out a soft moan as you felt the wetness of your folds part, Han settled on the side of your neck, “Look at you so wet.”

And the next thing you felt was one of his hands massaging your breasts and the other caressing your clit, you shivered at the sensation, with his heavy, warm breathing next to you; he continued to rub so finely at your vulva that again you shuddered, Han reached your entrance, so dripping begging for action and gave you its due attention, as he ran his two of his fingers, biting his lip and checking how wet you were for him, to finally slowly slide two fingers into your pussy. You moaned in surprise, Han was so focused on satisfying you that his thumb didn't stop attending to your sensitive clit even for a second, his cock was pulsing more every time, he was about to cum just by feeling your walls clinging to his fingers; you stirred your body slightly, enjoying the feeling of your insides being taken up, with his fingers reaching up to a perfect length teasing you to the limit.

“Do you like it?”

Han couldn't help but smirk smugly, your expression was one of pure pleasure, and you could only reply to him in an agitated “Yes,” with a breathless sigh. He moved his fingers slowly in you, enjoying the slick smoothness of your walls soaking his digits as you slowly swooned at his touch, his hard cock against your back, his thumb stroking your clit; you struggled to hold back your moans, but you were enjoying it too much. You could see your naked body, his hand busy on your breasts and the other with his hand buried in your pussy, giving you the most incredible pleasure, he knew how to do it so well that was enough for you to feel your orgasm close, you let yourself lean your body completely back against Han's naked chest, about to cum, sighing loudly and throwing your head back on his shoulder, your back arched a little and he gasped softly as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers tighter, releasing you into them.

Han laughed gently, smug and satisfied that you had cum just by him fucking you with his fingers; but you weren't the least bit tired, you were just getting started, poor Han had held back his orgasm, wanting to unload his entire load inside little pussy, making you his.

“C'mon, baby, let me fuck you.”

His murmur in your ear warmed your body and insides more, you were catching your breath a little but there was nothing to catch, at least you thought so, your friend's cock was so ready to be used that he didn't want to waste another second. You lifted your body a little, turned to see him and noticed how he was stroking his cock, with such a panting expression; the glans of his cock was so pink, slightly covered in white, almost more swollen than the first time you saw it. You without thinking raised your ass, not even bothering about a condom, just giving him free access to your pussy, slightly wiggling your ass as if in heat, waiting for Han to enter your dripping and previously attended pussy, but you sighed as you felt his length sliding down your wet labia, leaving you with his precum on them.

“Agh, fuck, all your pussy feels so good, baby, mmm.”

You looked up at him again, he was so focused, enjoying his cock slip through your vulva, until you finally felt it. His tip stretching your entrance, thrusting in so carefully it drove you crazy.

“Fuck, Han” you babbled, he was so swollen, stretching your walls.

He held you by your hips, pushing you gently until you were fully seated on his cock, your pussy feeling the skin of his balls; you both gasped at the same time, your insides squeezing him exquisitely and his cock filling your entire core to perfection.

“You can move, baby, or do you want me to do it for you?” he said again, excitedly.

You shook senselessly, slowly you were ceasing to think clearly. Your hands dug into his thighs, you stirred on his cock, with all his manhood buried in you and gave your first thrust upward, beginning to move your lower back, enjoying his cock inside you at your pace, as he held you firmly by your hips, supporting your movements and panting steadily. He massaged your ass and returned his hands to your hips, enjoying the close-up view of your entrance using up his cock, so slippery and making it wetter on the spot. You accelerated your movements, starting to jump without stopping, bumping your bodies, making you ecstatic but leaving you tired; Han was about to cum, so well that the moment he felt your body weaken, he did not hesitate to start pounding you deep and hard, causing a muffled moan in you, now resting your hands on the bed, making him stand up a little on his knees, ramming you with intensity until bringing him to his long awaited and great orgasm, squeezing all his juice inside you. You felt his warm cum, your body couldn't take that much either, Han thrust deep into you, pounding you until he even rocked your torso, arching your back, with your nails buried in your sheets, you climaxed for a second time, your insides coating his cock; both of you tired but unbelievably satisfied with each other.

You were returning to your normal state, at least you were more aware of your surroundings and, still with his cock inside you; the noise of the city altered your senses. You didn't live alone and Seungmin might arrive unexpectedly, plus your door was slightly open.

“Han… you have to go” you told him softly, worried that your brother might show up at any moment.

Han whined, being so comfortable with you, your pussy warming his cock. But he knew perfectly well he had to do it. The next morning you really thought he wouldn't remember anything, until that moment of the day, when you sorrowfully went to make yourself breakfast and when Seungmin wasn't around, he approached you and in a slightly seductive whisper said, “And what day does our first date sound good to you?”

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

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[takes1]

newest drop was fire bro🙌🔥🔥🔥

oikawa crushing on quiet!reader

ts made me smile. much appreciated ❤️ no smut this time; i'm getting smut fatigue. needed a short palette cleanser. thinking about doing some short form stuff while i work through the pre-january requests.

warnings. none, sfw

details. fem!reader / fluffy, feel-good fic / quiet!reader / oikawa crushing / 'weird'!reader / nerd x popular trope / oikawa is obsessed with you / based off of the 'hi wayne/bye wayne' audio / whipped!oikawa / iwa being a good person / 800 words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3.

"Hi, Tohru," You said, just as you did every day, to turn in your homework to the teacher's desk.

Oikawa was leaning forward, engaged in finishing a hushed story with Iwazumi. But your light, airy tone -void of any old, tired motive- took precedence with no further thought.

"-And then he was-- Hi, (Y/n)."

He perked up in many ways, just in time for you to walk by his desk again. Eyes wider, an uncontrollable smile brightening his former, serious expression- his brow softer, as he twisted to watch you return to your seat.

It was unclear why you felt comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis. Oikawa didn't mind. It distinguished you, like many things did, from the girls who only spoke to him because they were after something.

"The fuck was that?" Iwa searched his expression, finding some kind of emotion, or thought pattern at the very least, that he had never seen on his friend before.

Oikawa turned back around, confused, but not defensive.

"What?"

"That," Iwa asserted, shortly before he was called to face forward. He muttered, under his breath, "-That look on your face."

Oikawa was left to figure it out, a hint of effort on his brow, for the remainder of class.

Lunch eventually came around. He was still feeling different, and wasn't sure if it was what Iwa pointed out, or not.

In the process of standing to grab his lunch from his bag, and go eat outside like he usually did with his friend, he caught a quick glimpse of you. You were folding another addition to the row of tiny, paper cranes on your desk.

"C'mon," Iwa shouldered his bag.

Oikawa took a step, but lingered a moment longer.

You were sitting alone, but you didn't look sad about it. The seat in front of you was empty.

He filled it, despite Iwa's quiet protests, and sat backwards to watch you. The bench they usually chose to sit at sucked, because it was regularly bombarded with people he didn't know, all trying to talk to him. He usually never got to eat his lunch.

"Hi Tohru," You smiled, choosing not to look at him, in order to focus on your craft.

His reply was a fond sigh, "Hi, (Y/n)."

From here, he had the privilege of finally getting a good look at your face.

There was a sort of mild, unbothered, pleasantness to you. You weren't worried about anything else. You didn't give a damn that he was here, much less that he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Iwa flicked him, hard, in the back of the head. It was after he shot back upright, rubbing the sore spot, that he realized he had been leaning slowly forward.

"Don't be a dick," Iwa muttered.

The assumption was such a leap in logic that Oikawa had no idea what he meant. You added another crane, that tiny, permanent smile on your pretty face.

He ignored him. Instead, he opted to try talking to you for the first time, "Um- are you going to eat your lunch?"

Still not looking at him, you were tearing off another page-- "I forgot it."

Again, you didn't seem like you minded such a dismal thing. Without much further thought, he grabbed his and set it in your workspace.

This was the only time you would look up at him.

A shudder wracked down his spine, rendering his voice a bit weak, "Yo-u can have mine."

There was some consideration in your eyes, before you pushed it back towards him, and refocused on your paper, "No. You need to eat. Aren't you playing a big match, soon?"

The way you asked made it seem like you weren't looking for an answer.

"Uh-," He did you the liberty of freeing up your desk space again, lunch box in his clammy hands, "Yeah- yeah, we are."

Iwa was getting tired of standing- you heard him shift his weight and sigh. He was still under the assumption that Oikawa was trying to flirt for some useless, and cruel joke.

"You can sit there," You motioned to the desk next to Oikawa.

His inflection was stilted, and his cadence was slow as he, hesitantly, took a seat.

"Thanks..."

It was quiet for a while, aside from the other students chatting from further back in the classroom. Iwa watched his friend face forward and eat slowly, slouched at the shoulders. It was an unusual sight.

Gradually, it dawned on him that this superficial pretty boy -in a rare, natural phenomenon- held a deeply genuine and innocent crush.

When they got up at the ring of the next bell, you were about 20 cranes deep. Oikawa left you, with another wistful stare, to head back to his seat. Though he loved how you didn't need to fill the silence, he wished he could make more conversation with you.

The classroom began filling up again, getting louder, and crowded for the next subject.

He was flitting his pencil between his sluggish fingers, a frown deep and heavy against his knuckles, when you came into view once more.

Another precious moment of hopeful, heart-pounding glee.

You placed a crane on his desk, then straightened it up, "Bye, Tohru."

This time, you waited long enough for him to properly respond, dawning that uncontrollable grin again, "Bye, (Y/n)."

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