#some of the things that i think of are really cursed

[bunbun007]

One Hell Of a Trip - Saja Boys x Reader

Wanings: Demon pacts I suppose? Not explicitly explained. Word Count: 1.3k Pairings: Saga Boys x Reader

Next ->

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You should’ve never made a pact with a demon. Multiple demons, apparently.

Regardless of your religious beliefs, you knew that personally contacting the reins of Hell was a stupid, crazy idea. But then again, you were only human.

And humans needed to eat.

Didn’t they?

“I'll die if I don't do this,” you murmured, voice ever so soft, echoing in the dimly lit room. “Or maybe I will if I do. Heavens, this is so stupid… Lady, are you sure this will work?”

★

It had all started on a quiet street. You’d been walking with no real purpose, when you encountered an old lady — a beggar, by the looks of it.

You’d offered her kindness.

It was the only thing you could offer, realistically. You had nothing on you. Nothing at home, either. In fact, in a few days, you might not even have a home.

The lady seemed enamored by your sweetness and handed you a little flyer.

“The man who gave me this was very sure of its usefulness,” she said. “Maybe it'll help you. You seem like you need it.”

Ouch.

Even if she meant well. Ouch.

Still, desperate, you unfolded the flyer and read it. It was a crumpled old piece of paper — photoshopped and funny-looking, like it was made by middle schoolers promoting their DnD club.

Not judging, tho.

You held it in your hand and almost laughed at the absurdity. What if?

Realistically, what could go wrong?

It’s not like demons actually existed.

And if they did… maybe they’d pity you. In your sleepless, starved state, this seemed like a genuinely great idea.

Which is what brought you to this very moment —Sitting on the floor of your tiny apartment, placing candles in a circle like some cursed Pinterest board. “First time summoning a demon… hope you don’t mind the mess, Hell Lord,” you giggled to yourself at the pitiful joke and sat in the middle of the room.

What should you even say?

“Oh… hear ye, hear ye, demons,” you tried awkwardly. “Help me progress in my job… um, I really need it to live. I’ll return the favor if you let me live a decent life. "You looked around. “I’ll be bound to you…?”

.

.

.

Right.

What were you even expecting?

Candles bursting into flames?

A thunderclap?

The Hell Lord himself popping in through the wall?

“Well, would you look at that.”

A voice. Low and raspy, but with a slight youthful ring to it.

“Our plan keeps getting easier, doesn’t it, boys?” A series of soft laughs filled the room.

Your entire body tensed — and froze.

“Now, little one. We appreciate your help. We’ll gladly take you as ours.”Your neck almost snapped from how fast you turned toward the voice. You saw a tall figure — and before you could think, you grabbed the closest candle and threw it at them.

“THE HELL?!”

You kept throwing the lit candles like your life depended on it. And well… it kind of did. The entrance was blocked by figures.

Shadowed, unmoving.

“Who are you?! All of you?! I swear, I’ll break your necks if you come any closer!” You grabbed a nearby pillow and held it up with both arms.Your gaze flicked from figure to figure. They were tilting their heads forward… until they all slowly raised their chins.

They were men.

Attractive. Scary-looking. Men.

Still men, tho.

“Who are you?! How did you break in?!”

The man in the center took a step forward, flashing a smirk in your direction. His skin shimmered in a purple hue, tattoos spiraling across his collarbones. “Hello, human. We are your saviors—”

He flinched. “HEY! Did you just smack me with a pillow?!”

“Stay away!”

“Stop, human. I’m warning you. Quiet.”

Suddenly, your voice was gone. You tried to speak — to scream — to whisper, even. But nothing came out. It was as if your own body betrayed you, forced to obey this man’s words. And the men began to walk forward.

Each one was different in height and build — but all of them shared that same violet skin.

“We are the demons you contacted. Your saviors. Your new responsibility.”

The shortest of them — one with blue hair and an irritatingly smug face — held the crumpled flyer right up to your nose. “The owners of your soul…” They stood in front of you, forming a perfect line. And all you could do was stare.

“We are the Saja Boys."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Of course. Demons apparently existed. And you were now bound to five of them. They had you at their mercy. ‘What do you want from me?’ ‘You work as a manager, don’t you?’ 'Yes…’ ‘Then make us famous.’ ‘Unforgettable.’ ‘Desired.’ ‘Envied.’ The man in the center smirked. “Make us be loved by everyone."

Did I stay until 12 am stressing over the format and this little fix? Yes, yes I did. I've never posted but seeing how this movie has gained popularity and how loved the boys are, I wanted to write for them.

We barely see anything from them in the movie, so I'll probably take creative liberty to write their personalities. This might work as the starter for individual series (for each member) but it all depends if you guys actually like the idea or not Jajaja.

Which reminds me!

The original prompt belong to @soldmygenderforglitter and I took some liberty to develop it! I hope you like it!!

Ppl who also liked the idea: @arieslucy @lylian333 @silverklaus

[mooningningg]

notes, anon? this was lovely.

★ Roommate!Sukuna when you give him the silent treatment.

It started with something dumb. Most things with Sukuna did.

A sarcastic jab that cut too deep. An eye roll when you were already fed up. You didn’t even yell — just went quiet. Too quiet.

And that scared him more than anything.

At first, Sukuna was smug about it. Thought you were just being dramatic.

“Aw, what’s wrong, brat?” he snorted that night in the kitchen, shirtless, eating cereal out of the box like a menace. “Pissed I said your cooking was trash? Wasn’t even an insult. It was trash.”

You didn’t reply. Just walked past him like he wasn’t there.

That? That pissed him off more than your usual yelling.

“Oi. Don’t ignore me.” He turned, watching you grab your water from the fridge without even a glance in his direction. “I said something.”

Nothing.

Not a glance. Not a twitch.

Just the sound of the fridge door closing and your soft footsteps back down the hall.

He stared after you, jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Day one? He tried annoying you.

Left his towels all over the bathroom floor. Stole your snacks. Sat next to you on the couch just to shake his knee until you snapped.

You didn’t even flinch.

He waved a hand in front of your face once. “You dead?”

No response.

Day two? He tried teasing.

“Look, I know you miss my voice. It’s the best part of your day,” he said, sprawled out on your bed uninvited. “You can keep pretending, but I know you’re suffering.”

You stepped into your room, took one look at him, and pointed to the door.

He blinked. “You serious?”

Silence.

He scoffed. “You’re being fuckin’ dramatic.”

You shut the door in his face.

By day three, Sukuna was spiraling.

You didn’t laugh at his jokes. Didn’t glare when he stole your charger. Didn’t argue about what to watch on Netflix. You just… stopped reacting.

It was driving him insane.

“Alright, fuck this,” he muttered, stomping into your room uninvited — again. He leaned on the doorframe, shirtless and annoyed. “This ain’t funny anymore.”

You were at your desk, reading.

He hated it.

“I’m not apologizing,” he said quickly, before you could say nothing again. “You’re the one acting like a child.”

Still, no reaction.

Sukuna’s mouth twitched. “What, you think this makes you look cool? You’re not mysterious, sweetheart. You’re fuckin’ annoying.”

You turned the page.

Something in him cracked.

“Fine,” he snapped, marching across the room. “If you’re not gonna talk, then listen.”

He yanked your book from your hands, tossed it on the bed, and leaned down over you.

His hands came down on either side of your chair. Caging you in.

“You ignoring me like this?” he growled, voice low. “It’s cute for, like, five minutes. But you’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You still didn’t speak — just lifted your brows.

He cursed. “I don’t even know what the hell I said. You always get all soft when I call you a brat, but now suddenly I’m the villain?”

Nothing.

“I’m not good at this shit, alright? You want me to say sorry? Fuckin’ fine. Sorry. You happy now?”

Still no response.

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “...You're really not gonna talk to me?”

Silence.

“You fuckin’ like this, don’t you?” His voice dropped. “You like watchin’ me squirm.”

Then, slowly, his mouth tilted into a dangerous smirk.

“Fine. Keep ignoring me. I’ll make you speak some other way.”

He leaned in, close — lips just barely brushing your ear.

“I bet I can get you to scream real easy.”

You shoved him off your chair instantly, cheeks burning.

He laughed, victorious.

“There she is,” he grinned, arms folded as he backed out the door. “Took you long enough.”

You slammed the door on him again.

But this time, you were biting back a smile.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh.

[gojoest]

a shape that could be ours — gojo satoru

synopsis: newlyweds are always asked the same question: “when will the babies come?” sometimes, the questions are harmless. other times, they get under your skin. you start to think and you start to imagine. maybe you tuck a pillow under your shirt one time, just to see. and maybe… your husband, gojo satoru, sees it too.

warnings: f!reader (she/her), established relationship (you are newly married), pregnancy/baby talk, pet names (pretty, baby), domestic fluff, not proofread, wc: 2.6k, dividers by @/cursed-carmine

“what? don’t you want a baby with me?” satoru asks as he sets the plates down on the counter and walks over to you. his voice is low and teasing. but not teasing in the usual carefree way; there’s something softer threaded through it, something almost serious. like it isn’t really a question he’s asking at all, but a quiet hope. a request. one he’s afraid to say out loud too often.

you blink up at him, unsure whether to be flustered or frustrated.

dinner had just ended. it was the first time you invited family over since the wedding. a small gathering, really, that still somehow managed to feel like a full-blown event. everything had to be perfect. you spent the whole day cleaning, organizing, cooking. and not just because you’re a perfectionist, but because…

…his clan is, well, intense.

polished and traditional in all the wrong ways where every smile hides a critique, every compliment is laced with a condition. you knew it wouldn’t be easy to deal with them tonight but it mattered to you for the dinner to go well.

and in many ways, it did. except for that constant baby talk. family pressure.

“so, when are we going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet?”

“you two are married now. it’s about time, don’t you think?”

“i give it three months.”

‘three months? i’m hoping to get good news by the end of this month. the gojo blood is impatient.”

the laughter at the table was warm and lighthearted on the surface. but all of it made you want to disappear into your bowl of rice. every eye was on you and satoru — some amused, others expectant. as if you two were a machine that could be activated at any moment to start producing the next generation.

throughout the entire dinner you could barely take a sip of your drink without actually chocking on it.

meanwhile, satoru was just grinning like the menace he is — relaxed, smug and completely unfazed as always.

“we’ve been practicing”, he said brightly, “when the time comes, you will all know. it will show”, while caressing your belly shamelessly.

you nearly dropped your chopsticks. that idiot.

no matter how many times you jabbed his elbow, perhaps at times hard enough to leave a bruise, he kept chuckling, leaning over to kiss your temple like the world’s most supportive husband, and carried on with his antics. entertaining everyone with far too much confidence and far too many innuendos. not embarrassed at all, not for a second trying to avoid the topic when it was brought up. in fact, he kept leaning into it. perhaps because he enjoyed the idea a little bit too much and loved making it known since it involved the two of you becoming even closer. or perhaps as a subtle way of signaling you that he’s ready even if you aren’t. either way, he was absolutely in his element.

you, however, were ready to crawl under the table and stay there until the end of time, embarrassed.

by the time everyone was finally saying goodbye, you could barely fake another smile. several relatives winked on their way out, whispering things like “go work on that baby now” as if they didn’t already do enough damage to your nervous system, but now this too.

hours later, you’re standing in the kitchen rinsing plates, trying to scrub both the dishes and your embarrassment clean.

satoru is still watching you. he tilts his head, eyes a little softer now, like he’s peeling back the layer of jokes he wears so well. he steps closer to you and reaches out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. then his hand tilts your chin upward, coaxing you to meet his gaze.

“i mean it”, he says quietly. “don’t you want a baby with me?”

as a reflex, you try to turn away, but his hand holds you steady. not forceful, but firm enough, like he’s not ready to let you run from the question again.

“i…” you mumble. “i never said i didn’t want that.”

and that’s all he needs. a slow smile spreads across his lips. not a cocky one, but soft. almost relieved. he lets you go, brushing his fingers along your jaw as he pulls back. “good”, he says. “because i already think about it way too much.”

indeed, satoru has been imagining this, fantasizing even, for far too long, before you even got married. and all of his earlier teasing wasn’t just for show.

but on your end, it starts slowly. quietly. like how you start noticing flowers blooming only after winter has begun to fade.

a toddler’s giggle catches your attention in the park. you weren’t even really looking, just sipping on your coffee and scrolling mindlessly on your phone. but the sound draws your eyes up. a little girl in pink overalls is running after bubbles, squealing with laughter. her parents sit nearby on a bench, watching with contentment.

you don’t even realize you’re standing until the bubble pops and the girl turns to look at you, grinning. you smile back.

and just like that, you find yourself looking more often. at playgrounds. at babies wrapped in slings. at tiny shoes lined up in store windows. at couples who walk slowly because they’re pacing themselves with the unsteady toddle of their child between them.

you tell yourself it’s just because everyone keeps bringing it up. that your brain is on autopilot, stuck on a topic you never gave much thought before.

but then, you catch yourself lingering in the baby aisle at the store. just a second too long and just enough to picture what it might be like… a tiny hoodie with a little bear face. a pair of miniature sneakers that could fit in your palm. but alas, you shake your head and move on like that’ll erase the softness creeping in.

of course, satoru doesn’t help.

in fact, he seems to notice the shift in you immediately, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. one night, while you’re brushing your teeth, he appears in the mirror behind you, eyes sleepy but still, mischievous.

“if it’s a girl”, he says softly, “i want her to have your eyes.”

you pause, toothbrush still in your mouth. you look at his reflection in the mirror, he’s smiling. he says it so casually, like you’d been in the middle of that conversation all along.

pulling the toothbrush out, you gasp. “…what?”

“i mean it, pretty”, he says, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “your eyes. she’ll have me wrapped around her tiny little finger, obviously. but if she takes your eyes? i’m done for.”

you blink at him, unsure if your heart is skipping a beat from his words or because you brushed a little too hard… “satoru—”

“and i want to teach her how to fight”, he adds, grinning now. “so i can pretend i’m cool and strong before she decides i’m not.”

you stare at him. “looks like you’ve put way too much thought into this”

he shrugs, utterly unbothered. “of course i have. i think about it all the time.”

you turn away, rinsing your mouth, pretending your hands aren’t a little shaky from how serious he sounded underneath all the teasing.

another time, you’re curled on the couch, scrolling, when he flops next to you and plops a tiny onesie in your lap. it says: strongest baby alive!

“what— how— why do you even have this?” you ask, holding it up like it might detonate.

he grins. “came across it online. couldn’t resist. look, it’s perfect!”

“satoru.”

“what? just prepping for greatness”, he chuckles. but there’s something in the way he watches you after. like he’s waiting. measuring your reaction. seeing if your fingers linger on the fabric. and when they do — just a second too long — his smile falters. softens and turns quiet.

he doesn’t push it, though. doesn’t mention it again. instead, the next morning, you find your favorite mug already filled with coffee, and beside it… a baby spoon.

you roll your eyes. but you also don’t through it away.

and that night, while helping your friend babysit her toddler, you let the little boy climb into your lap. he has chubby fingers and impossibly soft hair, and he tugs at your necklace while babbling nonsense. at one point, he rests his head against your chest and sighs. you feel something in your chest flutter, crack open…

when satoru comes to pick you up, the boy doesn’t want to let go of your hand. satoru says nothing on the ride home. but he doesn’t let go of your hand, either. one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently on yours, warm against your thigh.

a few days later, satoru was abruptly called by the higher-ups about something last minute. nothing new. he kissed your cheek, told you not to wait up and vanished with a sweet little wink before putting on his blindfold.

now hours later, the silence he left behind still lingers. there’s no hum of his laughter, no echo of his dramatic commentary from the hallway, no footsteps chasing you down for one more kiss. just you.

you’re folding the laundry — a pile of shirts, a few of his socks that somehow always get lost in pairs, and then… a pillow. an extra cushion from the couch that ended up in the wrong basket.

you pick it up absently, ready to toss it aside, but… your hands hesitate. your eyes lower, thumb smoothing across the fabric. your heartbeat shifts a little and almost without thinking, you press the pillow against your stomach. a little too high at first, then you adjust it lower. tuck it in and pull your shirt over it.

just to see, to feel.

you walk to the mirror, barefoot, and look at your reflection. the shape is awkward and lumpy. not real. but the illusion is enough. your hand rests on the makeshift bump and then, slowly, one starts to move, caressing lightly over the curve.

you know it’s silly, but something within you responds. your face warms. you start to imagine satoru’s hand covering yours. you imagine him kneeling in front of you, placing a kiss against your stomach, whispering some ridiculous name idea he’s already picked out. you imagine tiny clothes, sleepless nights, holding something small and warm that’s half you and half him… you let yourself smile.

fingers brush gently over the fabric again. this could happen — you think — it’s possible. it’s real — and for the first time, the idea doesn’t make you want to run and hide. in fact, it makes your eyes sting a little. you lose yourself so deeply in the fantasy that your ears don’t catch on the sound of the front door open.

satoru didn’t mean to get home this quietly. usually, he makes a noise on purpose — jingles the keys, sings something stupid in the hallway, says something lovesick as soon as he opens the door just to hear you laugh.

but tonight, something stops him. he’s got that feeling. a pull.

the house is dim, soft with the kind of stillness that suggests you’re somewhere in thought. then he hears the faint shuffle of feet — yours — and he follows the sound like a thread, guiding him toward a barely cracked bedroom door.

he’s halfway through taking off his blindfold when he sees it through the narrow crack. you, in front of the mirror. a pillow under your shirt. your hands on it like it’s real.

he doesn’t move at first. his eyes track the curve of your body with something close to awe and he forgets how to breathe, or perhaps he’s afraid that if he breathes the moment will vanish. something primal and visceral hitting him all at once. you’re not smiling in the mirror like it’s a joke. you’re dreaming. touching the false belly like you’re already connected to someone that doesn’t exist — but could…

he thinks he might die on the spot. this is the future he’s been aching for in silence. this is the image that’s kept him up at night, one hand over his eyes, the other gripping the sheets, wondering when (if) you’d want the same…

and then, you see him. in the mirror just beyond your shoulder. startled, you turn. your hands fumble the pillow, cheeks heating up from embarrassment. “i— i was just… you know—it’s nothing. i was just being silly—”

he opens the door fully now and steps in slowly as if he’s approaching a dream he doesn’t want to wake from.

“stop”, he says, his voice barely above a whisper. he walks over to you like he’s being pulled by something magnetic. his hands are warm when he places one over the bump. even if it’s fake, it doesn’t matter. his fingers tremble anyway.

“you look beautiful. so beautiful, baby”, he murmurs, eyes not leaving you. “like it’s already real”, he swallows hard.

god, what i wouldn’t give to make it real, he thinks. to watch you grow round and soft with his child. to see the way your body would change — carry the weight of something made by both of you. to feel your skin stretch under his palms, life blooming inside you because of him.

he would worship you. he already does. but like that? pregnant with his child? he wouldn’t survive it.

he plants a soft kiss to your temple, hand curling protectively around your back, the pillow pressing between you. “i want to give you everything, you know that?” he whispers, but his voice sounds strained like he’s holding back too much all at once.

you nod against him. but, it’s not enough. not when you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror like that, not when you’ve imagined it too…

“say it”, he breathes against your hair. “tell me you want it too”

you look up at him, eyes vulnerable. that same look you gave your reflection.

“i want it”, you whisper. “i want a baby with you”

…and that’s it. that’s the thing that unravels him. letting out a shaky breath, he presses his forehead to yours. eyes fluttering closed as he cradles your face in both hands. he’s barely holding himself from dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth to your stomach, kissing it until you forget every reason you ever hesitated.

“let me give you a baby”, he says it now. clearly. openly. reverently. “let me make you a mother”, his thumb stroking your cheeks as his voice falls like a prayer and a plea all at once. “i’ll take care of everything”, he promises. “you’ll never lift a finger. just be mine. just carry ours.”

his lips find yours into a kiss, slow and aching, full of thousand nights he spent dreaming of this exact moment. and in the back of his mind, there’s only one thought echoing over and over.

she wants it. she wants this. she wants me. she wants us.

…and that’s enough to break him, rebuild him, and start everything new.

he gently scoops you into his arms, carefully — like you’re already carrying something precious inside you. your hands fly to his shoulders, your face closer to his. and it’s one of those rare moments where there’s no teasing on his features. only something quiet, something tender. something that longs.

he carries you to the bed like he’s bringing you home, and when he lays you down, he takes a moment. just a moment, to look at you. the fake curve of the pillow under your shirt, the way your hands settle over it instinctively. the way your eyes never leave his.

satoru sinks to his knees beside the bed, presses a kiss low on the fabric over your belly. one hand slides over the curve gently, and then, looking up at you through his lashes, he murmurs,

“i’m going to make this real now.”

[moonstruckme]

First time request! I'd love a poly Jily fic based on the prompt "blood swirling down a shower drain." Maybe the reader just got back from a mission that went wrong and is kinda out of it, trying to wash everything off. James and Lily find them and refuse to let them deal with it alone, just soft, quiet comfort, lots of gentle touches, and reassuring words.🥹 Thanks!!

Thank you for requesting! This turned out so much angstier than I intended. I really don't know what happened but...I'm sorry? Or for the people who are always asking for angst I don't deliver, you're welcome I think? I don't know it just happened I wasn't on the decision-making panel

cw: blood (lots of blood), reader is a bit in shock, nonsexual nudity, death (of a minor canon character, not someone we really know and love), set in canon so there's death eaters/the order/etc., quite angsty (for me at least) but there is comfort I promise

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James and Lily are cuddling when you come home. Well, they’re sort of just holding each other and trying to pass it off as cuddling. Any one of you going out on an assignment for the Order always makes nervous wrecks of the two left behind, but Lily and James doing their best to distract themselves, a film on the television and each trying not to look like they’re glancing out the window every minute. 

The crack of apparition outside puts an abrupt end to the facade. 

They’re both up in an instant, but Lily puts a hand to James’ chest when he goes for the door. “Wait,” she says. She leaves a spot of blood on his shirt from where she’s picked the skin by her nail down to nothing. 

James’ heart revolts, but he listens. They both listen, until they hear the two-three-two knock that means it’s you. 

Lily manages to move faster than him. She has both the muggle and magical locking mechanisms undone in an instant, opening the door to you. 

To you, absolutely drenched in red. 

It’s in your hair; it stains your clothes; it cakes your face and your neck and your hands. There’s hardly an inch of you left clean. James can’t comprehend it. Was there…was there an explosion of some sort? Did you get splattered by something? He feels sick. 

“Is that blood?” Lily’s voice is admirably steady. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

James really feels sick. 

“Are you hurt?” She reaches for you, bringing you inside. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds. 

“No, I’m—it’s old. I’m fine. Remus fixed it.” 

“Good old Moony,” James croaks. It’s meant to be a joke, but truly, he’d love to fly to Remus and Sirius’ flat right now to give his friend the hug of his life. If only there weren’t things for James to take care of here first. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Lily asks, running a gentle hand up your arm. Blood flakes under her touch. 

“They were waiting for us.” Your voice is low, like it’s the sort of truth that becomes worse once said aloud. Your eyes look bigger and brighter in the midst of all the mess. James wants desperately to hug you, and yet—shamefully—he’s afraid of touching you; like despite what you say, he might find you less whole than you were when you left a few hours ago. “It was just supposed to be Dolohov there, but there were a lot of them. They knew we were coming.” 

“They did this to you?” 

“It…I…” Your gaze moves from Lily, to James, back to Lily again. You look exhausted, haunted, but worried beneath that. A moment later, James understands why. “It was Severus.” 

Lily reacts as though you’ve hit her. Her expression looks like a heart cracked open, but she doesn’t let go of your arm. 

“He used this spell,” you tell her, seeming sorry to do it, “that opens cuts all over the other person’s body. Remus was able to figure a counter-curse before I bled out. I don’t think Severus was aiming for me…” 

Even looking at your face, James is unsure of whether you mean that. The odds that Snape would try to hurt you seem equally as likely to him as those that he wouldn’t. You may only be trying to protect Lily. She looks so devastated, James wants to wrap you both up and never let you go again. 

Something Lily and James have always had in common is how they love. They may not always show it in the same ways, but once they’ve chosen someone, that’s it; they’ll live and die for them. They give away their whole hearts. James has just been luckier in who he’s chosen to give his to. His first love—outside of his family, of course—was Sirius. Lily’s was Snape. 

But, as much as James loves Lily, if Snape showed up on your doorstep right now James thinks he would kill him. 

“I’m sorry,” Lily says to you, her eyes shining. 

“It’s okay.” You extricate yourself gently from her grasp. “I’m going to shower.” 

“Sweetheart…” James reaches for you, but you ghost past his hands, only mumbling again, “It’s okay.” 

Nothing’s okay. Lily’s looking after you like her heart’s been cracked open. From the sound of it, you actually were cracked open for a while. There’s a fracture between the three of you that James doesn’t know how to fix. But certainly he’s going to try. 

“Come on.” He takes Lily’s hand, encouraging her down the hall with him. When she comes, he wraps an arm around her shoulders to kiss her hair. “It’s alright. Come on, lovely.” 

The shower is already running when they open the bathroom door. James shuts it behind them before starting to strip, and Lily’s questioning look only lasts a moment before she’s doing the same. He sets his glasses on the counter. 

“Hi,” he says, pulling the shower curtain open enough to pop his head in. You look surprised, which is a surprise in itself; you must really be lost in your own head not to have heard them enter. “Room for two more in here?” 

There is, of course, room—as if James would ever let you get a place without a shower big enough for three—but still he’s relieved when you nod. He steps the rest of the way in, making room for Lily to squeeze in behind him. You seem to have scrubbed your face clean and now are letting the water do the work on the rest of you. Blood swirls down the shower drain. 

James steps closer, giving you long seconds to back away, to let your face reveal hesitation or denial, before he kisses you. Slowly. Warmly. You soften like butter in the sun, arms coming around him as his do you. 

“Didn’t get to do that properly when you got home,” James murmurs after your lips part. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

He fights to keep his lips from twitching at the now-familiar dazed quality to your tone. It is taking every ounce of his concentration to not think too hard about the two stunning women he’s sharing a shower with right now. 

Since Lily is no longer up to being the asker of questions, James gives it a whirl. “Do you want to tell us any more about what happened tonight?” 

Your eyes go weary and somber. He sees your throat bob as if around something painful. “We, um. We lost Edgar.” 

Lily makes a wounded sound. “Bones?” 

James has already drawn you into a hug. You nod against his chest, choking out a weak, “Yeah.” 

“Was it…”

“It was Lestrange,” you answer before Lily has to finish asking. Not Snape. She breathes out. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, joining your hug. Water runs in rivulets down the three of you, transferring from one body to the other, off James’ nose and Lily’s hair and your chin, pooling in all the places you’re pressed together. James fights an ache in his own throat. You’d all known Edgar, but only you watched him die. This is a grief he and Lily can only share in parts of. 

There’s lots more kisses and murmuring before you get to the business of washing. James runs you over with a soapy cloth while Lily shampoos your hair, the both of them making sure no inch of you goes unseen to. Remus has done a good job; there are no scars where Snape’s curse tore you open. As the blood clears away, James can’t tell where it originated from at all. 

He tells you how happy they are to have you home. You smile at his exaggerated jokes about separation anxiety and squeeze his hand when he presses a thumb into the corner of it, chuffed with himself. Lily apologizes again for Snape, and you both promise her she’s not responsible for him until it seems almost like she believes it. James is kicked out of the shower in disgrace after mistaking your body wash for conditioner. He warms towels in the dryer while Lily works the tangles out of your hair with her fingers. 

When you go to bed, you’re still as exhausted as you were when you came home. You move like your body weighs a thousand pounds, and there’s a haunted look about your eyes, and you don’t seem up to saying much. But you curl up with James’ chest to your back and Lily’s leg draped across your own, and you’re loved, and that counts for something.

[rooksamoris]

FREE MEALS AND MARRIAGE PROPOSALS !!

💞 — in which y'all fake a marriage proposal for free food at some fancy restaurant. 💞 — featuring; jamil viper, floyd leech, lilia vanrouge, ruggie bucchi, ace trappola, che'nya pinker, epel felmier, deuce spade, rook hunt, jade leech. 💞 — gender neutral reader. 300-400 words each. warnings: cursing and embarrassment. here's a link to the jamil solo song analysis i made because im shameless and wrote 4k words on that so it cant flop or i'd die.

JAMIL VIPER.

“No, don’t you dare.”

“Come on, Jamil—it’s a free meal.”

“I don’t care. It’s embarrassing. Hey, sit dow—” 

Before he could even finish his sentence, you were down on one knee, giving him a cheeky grin before shutting your eyes and holding up a little ring box with a fake silver ring. It sat there in a plush velvet pillow, shimmering at Jamil with mischief. It felt like things were going in slow motion, people had begun to turn and look at the two of you. His cheeks and ears began to heat up and he desperately wanted to hurl you over his shoulder and just leave the damn restaurant. 

“Jamil, in the time that I’ve had to get to know you, I have met a wonderfully talented but complex individual with so much to offer the world,” you said, looking up at him with that same cheeky look, but something in your eyes hoped to convey that the words you said were true, “I would be honored if you allowed me to uncover more of your secrets for the rest of our lives, together. Will you marry me?”

Oh, Jamil was embarrassed. He tried not to glare at you, because he did think your words were sweet. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that someone saw him at his complete worst, when ink had blotted his soul, corrupting his being and manifesting into a cruel phantom, and still would want to be with him. He frowned and glanced off to the side, “Yes… hayati.”

You grinned. One free dessert later, you were walking back to campus with Jamil, giggling on and on about his reaction while he hid his expression behind his hood, “Oh, shut it.”

“Aww, they even got a picture of us! Look,” you laughed, holding your phone up.

He grumbled under his breath, pushing your phone away.

FLOYD LEECH.

Listen, Floyd was just getting bored of sitting and just talking over the meal. Sure, it was a nice place, but what use was a nice place if he felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin since he was sitting, well-behaved, for so long. He frowned at you before looking over the dessert menu, not really reading anything until he came to the advert. 

Ah. Apparently, it was a free dessert to whoever proposed in the restaurant. They would have their pictures taken and everything since it was good PR or something like that. There it was, the cure to his boredom, the scratcher for his itch.

A sudden smile came to Floyd's lips and you were immediately suspicious of him. Your brows knitted softly, but before you could speak, he was pulling one of his rings off of his finger and standing from his seat. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up before taking your hand and forcing the ring onto your finger. 

You gawked at him, “Floyd, what the—?”

“Let’s get married, Shrimpy,” he said, but there was a little threat in his eyes as he loomed over you, intertwining your fingers.

“Wa–wait a minute—”

“We can have a beach wedding. And I can take you swimming,” he drawled and laughed. It was clear whatever he was thinking about was not very… safe.

Before you could even answer, people were applauding and there were camera flashes. Some waiter brought out a stack of specialty desserts and placed them on the table. Everyone seemed so happy and you were just dumbfounded. You blinked at the flashes and looked around, lost, at all the cheers. Oh, goodness. You did not even pose for the pictures at all, and you were more than sure they were unflattering. 

Floyd leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear, “Smile,” he laughed, holding your hand out with the ring for another picture.

The dessert was delicious.

LILIA VANROUGE.

“So… when are you gonna propose?”

“Hmm? Oh, darling. You’re going to be the one proposing. I was practicing my cute, ‘a thousand times yes’ reaction in preparation.”

Your eyes widened. You and Lilia had talked about this deal happening at a restaurant near the campus, and you agreed to go out and get a free meal through a marriage proposal. You had assumed Lilia would be the one proposing, you know, being the centuries old fae who fought in some of the bloodiest battles and helped raise a prince. He was leaps more experienced than you and you would not have been surprised to find out if he was already married at some point, all those years ago. 

You looked at the clock. They would be closing soon, and from the evil little smile on the fae's face, you could tell that you were the one who would have to propose. You frowned and stood from your seat, getting down on one knee. There was a gasp in the crowd and you nearly rolled your eyes.

“Uhm… I’m sure many have been in the position that I am in right now, but I wish to make my devotion to you clear,” you began, “I wish for nothing more than the chance to spend the rest of my life with you. I… uhm… will you marry me, Lilia?”

Lilia let out a soft gasp, bringing his hands up to his mouth as his eyes widened in faux surprise, “Oh, a thousand times yes. I would be the happiest man to marry you,” he said and then he wrapped his arms around you while you stood. Once he let go, he looked at the crowd that gathered and smiled at them, “You are all invited to our wedding!”

“Lilia!?”

“What, beloved? One must share their joy, for it grows, hehe.”

He gleefully sat back down with you once the dessert arrived, dedicating the rest of his night to flustering you while he reaped the reward of your embarrassment. Lilia was more than glad to share the pictures with Silver.

RUGGIE BUCCHI.

Ultimately, this whole thing was Ruggie's idea. He came to you with an advertisement in hand, asking you to pretend to accept his marriage proposal at some fancy restaurant he was sure he would be kicked out of on any other day. He asked you because he knew you agree, considering your living conditions in Ramshackle.

This was not the type of place Ruggie felt at home in. He mended his finest clothes just to come here with you, for the sake of a free meal. He was shameless, but he knew when he was not welcome somewhere and he certainly was not welcome here. Of course, that would not matter at all. He came for a free meal and he was going to get that free meal. He sent you a nod, the code that he was about to lower himself and pretend to lay his heart out to you. 

Ruggie got down onto his knee with his usual mischievous smile, tilting his head to the side as he tugged your hand close to him. It was almost romantic the way his pale blue eyes met yours. He looked nice like this, his hair slicked back, his clothes clean and freshly ironed. From a distance, you could not even see the way he had to hem the sleeves and the pant legs to fit him. 

“I can’t give you much, you know. You’ll probably have to work hard with me to get by, and I’m sure we won’t be doing fancy dates like this all the time, but I would do my best to keep you smiling and laughing,” he started, intertwining your fingers, “So, will you marry me?”

You smiled and nodded, “Of course, Ruggie.”

Only after the proposal, when you both were outside with your to-go box did you really think about how entertained everyone was by the proposal. You could have sworn someone had made a comment in the background about how love was more than money or something stupid like that. All while affording their own meals in a restaurant like that, where you and Ruggie had to perform for your attendance.

“Shishishi, you're always thinking too much,” Ruggie said, pulling you from your thoughts, “We got the food. Whatever they think doesn’t matter.”

ACE TRAPPOLA. 

You and Ace had actually planned this beforehand. Come on, you guys are two broke students attending Night Raven College, ordering a meal cost the same as a textbook. When Ace had seen the posting about this restaurant's offer to give free desserts to anyone who proposed there, he was all over it, rushing to your rundown dorm and sharing it with you. After an hour long debrief about how to make it all believable, you dressed up and left. 

Now that you were sitting across from one another, you both had cold feet. It was embarrassing, all these people... turning to stare as you proposed... ugh.

“I thought you were gonna do it already,”

“Shut up, why don’t you do it?”

“It was your idea, Ace.”

He frowned, pouted, even, before glancing down at the dessert at the table. He really did not want to split the bill for this. He sighed before rubbing the back of his neck, “Fine, but you’re giving me the answers on that test,” he grumbled.

Ace pulled out the random little decorative box you guys found to make this look more real. There was not a ring inside of it, neither of you could find anything that would look real enough and neither of you could afford a ring. He got down onto one knee, a flush covering his pale cheeks, matching his hair, “Listen… I know I’m a jerk. I say mean stuff and I don't apologize on time. I get you caught up in all sorts of trouble, but I can’t imagine doing all that alone. Without you. I will annoy you, and I will make you mad, but I would be the luckiest guy ever if you married me.”

Why the fuck did your heart skip a beat at all that? You looked into his eyes before nodding, “U–Uhm, yeah— yes.”

Once you guys left, a to-go box and free dessert in hand, Ace reached over to pinch your cheek, “You were blushing,” he teased.

“Shut up or I’m gonna eat these pastries without you.”

CHE’NYA PINKER.

You had brought the idea up to Che'nya, a fake proposal for some free food and he was more than down for it. In fact, he dressed in his finest and tried to stay on his best behavior till the day of. It was suspicious, and you were sure he had to have been planning something... the day came, and you reminded him what you agreed on, a quick 'will you marry me?' and a 'yes' and then boom, free food. 

But, before you knew it, you were drinking your fruit cordial when you heard a little clink. You looked down at the cup and saw a little ring. Before you could react, cameramen appeared and a live band showed up, playing some romantic classic. 

This bitch ass cat. He just had to push the glass of the table when you told him not to.

He gazed at you with a cheshire grin before disappearing and then reappearing before you, on his knees. Holding your hands up to his lips for a kiss.

“When my mind is tangled up yarn, you pull it apart and weave the greatest blankets to keep us warm,” he said, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your hand, “Haste makes waste, but if I do not hurry now, someone else may take your hand before me, and the divine know I could use your helping hand. My two are great, but I could use these extra ones of yours. So, what do you say? Tie the knot?” 

You were glaring down at him, but it just made him more gleeful. But then you sighed, “Fine… uh— I meant, yes.”

The music ended with a flourish and applause while the waitress brought your free desserts. Once you guys were heading out, Che’nya could tell you were livid, but still leaned on you as you walked. Now he had a great video of you floundering during his fake proposal.

“Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker.”

“Ooh, you sound purr-fect when you’re mad. Still, you should be nicer to your fiance,” he giggled.

DEUCE SPADE.

This whole situation was your idea, but Deuce, ever the gentleman, decided he would be the one to propose to you for this whole scheme. Ultimately, he owes you for helping him study, getting between him and Riddle during the tumultuous first part of the year, and saving him from getting in trouble by vouching for his character. 

You always said it was what friends were for, but he still believed he owed you. 

Deuce was flustered beyond belief, his brows furrowed while he looked up at you. He had been in this position before a few times, lowering himself to tie your laces so you did not trip and fall, or when he bent down to pick something up for you because if he was anything, it was thoughtful. But this was so different. He was asking you to marry him... for a free dessert, sure, but it was a proposal nonetheless.

“I know I’m not… super romantic or anything. Honestly, I’m clueless about this whole thing,” he mumbled. His pretty green eyes were nervous, but there was a determination there as well. It almost looked real, the way he was laying his heart out to you, telling you about his flaws while asking you to spend the rest of your life together. Albeit for a free meal, of course, “But I know one thing for sure. I want to marry you and be together for the rest of our lives. I’ll mess up sometimes, but I promise to try and fix things. Will you marry me?”

It was all so sweet you nearly forgot to answer before nodding quickly, “Yes, of course, yes,” you said.

Deuce sighed in relief, like he was seriously proposing and stood back up as the free meal was brought out. He tried to spend the rest of the date talking to you like normal, but he could not stop the racing of his heart whenever the image of you looking surprised, lips parted and eyes wide, came to his mind.

“Still flustered, Deuce?”

His cheeks were pink and he just looked away from you, mumbling something about how it was all worth it.

EPEL FELMIER.

“Hah!? No way, I’m proposing first,” he hissed at you, his lilac brows knitted as he slammed his hands onto the table.

You shook your head, “I made this plan up, so you should let me propose.”

“Yeah, well I won’t look manly getting proposed to, so let me do it.”

That annoyed you. You held up a little violet velvet box. 

The ring and the ring box were from Vil, a gift he got you a while ago for your help with the VDC. A token of his appreciation which would now be used to propose to the student under his watch, within his greatly esteemed dorm. The sight of it just irritated Epel further. 

Epel shook his head stubbornly and then stood up so quickly that the chair fell down behind, capturing the eyes of everyone in the room. He snatched the ring box from your hand and then got down on one knee, frowning with pure determination. His wide teal eyes were beautiful as ever, but filled with a fire you often saw when he got extra stubborn. He held the box up to you with his dainty looking hands, but you could look deep enough to see the calluses from carrying heavy apple baskets.

“Will you marry me? I promise to protect you from everyone and provide you with a very comfortable life. I swear on my great great grandmother’s apple orchard. I’ll personally cut down the trees with my bare hands if I disappoint you! So— so marry me!” he blurted out. Once the words left his lips, the blush settled over his chubby cheeks.

Your heart raced a little bit and then you managed a little nod, “Yes— I’ll marry you,” you said, quickly before anyone could see through the act.

Once you guys had your desserts and left, your mind drifted back to his words. Epel, on the other hand, had a hand on his stomach, patting it, stuffed with sugary goodness and satisfied.

ROOK HUNT. 

Rook was someone who could have just paid for the dessert. Honestly, it was no skin off of his back, and as Le Chasseur d'Amour, it meant little when it came to the mission of romance... but, proposing was enticing. Even if it was for just a moment to get a free treat, it would make for a greatly romantic spectacle, and theatrical was his middle name. 

His piercing green eyes drifted over the advertisement a few times, and you noticed it. He caught your gaze and then stood. Sevens, drag him back into his seat before he— “Rook, please don’t—”

“Ah, mon cœur! My heart has been shot by the deity of love!” he exclaimed, dramatically placing a hand onto his forehead, before bowing.

People had flinched in their seats at how loud his voice was. Rook had expertly captured his audience into his trap and now it was time for the skillful hunter to go in for the kill. He spared them little attention as his gaze met your flushed face again. 

Gently, he took your hand into his own and brought it up to his lips, pressing a princely kiss to your knuckles before he knelt down, pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, “Le Chasseur d’Amour has been captured by you, and it would be my honor to spend the rest of my days admiring your beauty. Allow me the honor of joining you in matrimony, binding our very beings to one another, so even as our bodies decay, they may rest beside one another.”

He let go of your hand to reach for a ring box in his breast pocket, gazing at you with what looked like pure love, “Marry me and I will devote myself to your joy.”

You covered your face and just nodded.

“Ah! My heart bursts with color—”

“Rook, please sit. I’m begging you!”

JADE LEECH.

“Oh no… I don’t seem to have enough for dessert. Whatever shall we do?”

He feigned an upset expression, his brows knitted softly, a little frown on his lips as he shut his eyes, a sigh of resignation falling from mouth. There was even a convincing little slouch in his shoulder, but you knew better than to believe any of it. 

You looked down at the little laminated paper on the table and it hit you. He did not invite you out because he wanted to hang out, he invited you out to embarrass you. Jade was the mad scientist and you were the experiment. He used sharp tweezers to pluck out reactions from you, moving you from vial to vial to see your reaction. 

You frowned, “Jade, you asshole.”

His expression shifted. He grinned, but it was far from sweet or innocent. He stood from his seat, making sure it made enough noise to draw eyes to the two of you, before gracefully getting down onto one knee, holding up a shimmering velvet box up to you, his free hand against his chest, “In the many years I have know you,” you were barely completing your first year since meeting him, “You have only surprised me with your nurturing spirit and your sweet reactions. I bring this ring, a token of my love, and humbly lower myself before you to ask if you will marry me,” he said, bowing his head for extra effect.

You heard someone mutter a ‘oh my, so sweet’ and you wanted to cringe. You looked down at Jade before sighing, “Yes,” you replied, less than pleased.

Jade stood, taking your hand and slowly sliding the ring onto your finger, letting you feel the cool metal against your skin, accompanied by the softness of his skin. He leaned down to your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek for the viewers, before whispering into your ear, “So, which dessert did you want?”

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

support me on ko-fi!

[arachnidseyesmoved]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

YOU AND ME

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Previous. Next. Damian and reader go on a date!!! That's all that happens, I swear! w.c: 1.8k

You bow with the rest of the performers on stage as the crowd gives one last show of appreciation. When the curtains fall, you very stealthily scamper towards the dressing rooms, not before catching the sly wink Zatanna throws your way.

Maybe you weren’t being that stealthy.

The door to your dressing room clicks shut and you eye yourself in the vanity mirror, only then realising how nervous the girl in the mirror looks. There’s a lot that can go wrong today and a lot you really want to go right. You fix yourself with a look of determination.

With a little twirl and a poof of smoke, your magicians outfit is swapped with the outfit you spent a rather embarrassing amount of time picking out. Before you can fuss anymore over your reflection, there’s a knock on the door.

That was fast, at least you’re not the only eager one. You take a quick, deep breath before opening the door.

Damian Wayne stands in the doorway, he takes you in while you take him in. He’s dressed much less fancy than the last time you saw him, bomber jacket with a simple but probably unnecessarily expensive t-shirt and loose jeans.

“Are you ready?” You ask, unable to fully hide your excitement. You see just the smidgen of a smile on his face as he answers rather seriously,

“I’m always ready for anything.”

“Ooh, Don’t challenge me, Wayne.”

You pull him into the room and shut the door. After knocking three times on said door, you give him a grin.

“You let me plan this whole thing, remember.”

You open the door and step through into an entirely different place. Damian’s sneakers touch cobblestone road and he squints in the sudden sunlight. He thinks he knows already, given the wide bustling streets and the architecture of the buildings around him, but he asks anyway,

“Where are we?”

You’re all too happy to tell him, winding an arm around his and leading him in a seemingly random direction.

“Turin, Italy. I did a mission here a while ago. That’s what we’re going to see first by the way, some good old spooky occult shit, this city has tons of it.”

He lets you drag him to several such occult sights. He listens while you yap about the differences between demonic and non-demonic cathedrals, how to know if a crypt is cursed and which ghost sightings are obviously real and which are fake. He does it all with an attentive mind, almost like he’s reading a book he really likes and he's trying to burn it into his mind.

Once you're done showing him all the "cool shit", you proudly announce that you also planned some things he'd actually enjoy. He keeps the fact that he was enjoying himself the entire time to himself.

You take him to an art gallery, an archaeological museum and a natural history museum. You listen to him yap all about unconventional painting techniques, which period had the best samurai swords and which fun facts about prehistoric animals are actually true and which are completely wrong. You listen with the ear of someone who’s hearing their new favourite song for the first time.

─⋅⋆⁺.

“I get that, but when a magician asks you for your favourite animal and you say "Anaconda." You should at least be a little ready for her to pull out an anaconda! He almost soiled himself on stage!”

Damian huffs a laugh, easing back against the bench you two found that completely coincidentally (as far as he knows) has a perfect view of the sunset. You sit in easy silence, sharing a cup of caramel ice-cream. He looks more at ease than you’ve ever seen him before and an embarrassing amount of pride blooms in your chest at how well your date turned out to be.

You stare ahead at the horizon and wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are, the thought sparks a bit of unease. Realising you haven’t said something stupid or irritating in a while, you decide now would be a good time to break the fast.

“Do you think the sunset will be this pretty on our wedding day?”

His lips nudge downwards, not quite a grimace but he eyes your smug grin with much annoyance. He sighs and takes another scoop of ice-cream with his little wooden spoon before saying,

“I hope so.”

The teasing grin disappears from your face, and all you can do is gaze ahead blankly. That’s not what he was supposed to say.

You clear your throat and take a bigger than necessary bite of ice-cream, racking your brain for what the hell to say next. After a few minutes you try again, teasing tone more forced than before.

“Do you think Alfred would walk me down the aisle?”

He doesn’t look at you this time, he just stares ahead at the pinkish-orange sky.

“I'm sure he would if you asked. So would my father. He would be glad that at least one of his sons can commit.”

You look ahead too, wishing you could see the view through his eyes instead.

“I'm sure he'd be proud.”

Damian doesn’t have to ask who you’re thinking about when you say that, so he doesn't.

“Would you invite…her?”

He tilts his head up, genuinely thinking through how that would play out despite how ridiculous this complete hypothetical is.

“I don’t know. I’d want to.”

You nod in understanding. Some things are just too complicated to work out in the end. A twinge of sadness settles before you feel the impulsive urge to turn to a lighter topic.

“Titus would make the perfect flower boy.”

He lets a smile slip onto his face, finally looking back at you. The sun leaves little specs of gold in his eyes and you find yourself openly staring (unbeknownst that he’s making the exact same observation). He takes the cup from your hands and places it beside you on the bench. Taking your hand in his, he leans closer and kisses you gently.

His other hand gently holds your cheek. When you part, he stays close. It feels just like those stupid cheesy movies, like a pretentious romance novel, like a sappy love song. But it feels good, good enough that you hold off on the snarky comment for just a few seconds more.

“You know you’d have to make Jon the best man, right?”

Damian groans, pulling back and closing his eyes, acting as if that's actually something he'll have to do. You laugh and lay your head on his shoulder.

“C’mon, He’d be devastated if you didn’t.”

Damian puts his arm around you, keeping you close.

“Maybe I’ll just lie and tell him Arab weddings don’t have a best man.”

You let out a snort,

“Good luck with that.”

You stay like that until the sun sinks behind the distant mountains, replaced by the orange glow of street lamps. Eventually, you stand from the bench, clearing your throat a bit.

“I know I’ve kept you all day, but do you want to grab dinner?”

He stands from the bench as well, throwing away the little ice-cream cup before casually lacing your hands together.

“Anything for my future wife.”

Your heart almost stops. Your brain stammers and so do your words.

“Don’t- Don’t say that.”

“Say what, beloved?”

He asks, looking down at you with a smirk. You very much do not like being on the other side of this dynamic at all. And you know he knows that, he might just be able to feel the heat from your face!

“Stop that-”

Before you can finish, the world stops, literally. Everything slows to a halt. Crickets stop chirping, the breeze stops blowing, all commotion on the street is silenced. Even Damian is suspended in animation just like everything else. Everything except you and-

You’re looking around already, knowing exactly what this is. He used to do this when you were being belligerent on missions. He'd just stop the entire world to yell at you for being a dumb kid, even if he could only do it for a few precious seconds. Nothing for months and he picks now?

You slide your hand out of Damian’s and step closer to where you can see the yellow portal forming.

“You really have bad fucking timing.”

“Language.”

John Constantine steps out of the portal, hands in the pockets of his coat, cigarette in his mouth.

“I need yer help.”

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll if you tried.

“Obviously.”

Why the hell else would he be here. He sighs and takes in his surroundings, looking anywhere but you.

“What are ya even doing here, sight seeing?”

You step back towards Damian and grab his hand, bringing him out of the time freeze. He looks around, taking in the situation with shocking calmness, his expression turns to understanding when he sees John.

“I'm on a date.”

John looks to you, then at Damian, then back to you. It takes him a minute to understand who Damian is and what that means. The cigarette falls out of his mouth as he sputters like an idiot.

“Yer fucking with me.”

“Language.”

He regains some composure when he notices the way you’re looking at him. As if he just remembered how you two left things. That you might actually not want to see him.

“Look, Love, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an end of the world kind of thing.”

You feel Damian squeeze your hand a little, a reassuring act, an act of trust. There’s a deep understanding between you but with that comes a lot left unsaid. Left in the grey space of "We both understand this so there’s no need to discuss it really.” or is it that you want to talk about it but don’t know how. Being exceptionally gifted kids with exceptional, world-saving parents and bucket loads of trauma isn't something you just bring up casually.

But Damian understands obligation and responsibility. The need to do what’s necessary.

“Fine.”

John sighs, like he actually thought you wouldn’t say yes for a second. The thought brings you more spiteful pride than you’d like to admit.

“Come along then.”

He simply states, before disappearing into his little portal leaving it open for you to follow. Everything slowly returns to normal pace again, the bustle of the street returns as pedestrians keep on like nothing happened. Lucky bastards.

“I’ll call you…when I’m done.”

He nods his head. He’s taking this very well and you’re not sure how to feel about it. He's trying to be understanding, probably because he knows you'd do the exact same thing for him. You barely have to talk about why you have to go, what you have to do… but that doesn't mean you don't want to.

"Don't make me stitch you up again."

He brings you into a hug. You think briefly on how awkward a hug from Damian would have been just a month ago. The thought makes you smile as you burrow your face in his warm neck, breathing in his distinct scent. You open a magic door for him,

“This’ll take you home. To the manor.”

With that you give him one last long look before following your dad into his portal, going who knows where to face who knows what.

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[txniesha]

Complication SylusxNon!MC reader pt.6

Synopsis: Some relationships are doomed to fail from the start. After all, how can a man destined to be someone else's, truly ever be yours?

CW: angst, cursing, typos

Word count: 1,138

A/N: This chapter is short but i feel like it really hits. It'll be a couple of more chapters after this before I wrap it up in a nice little boy of sadness!

He just stared at you, his eyes unreadable, not giving anything away. You hated when he did this, when you confronted him, and he just shuts down. You sigh frustrated and pull out of his grasp “I knew it, i knew i should've stayed in Linkon. You...you don't love me. You don't know what you want but you feel as if you're entitled to me, like no one else can have me while you do whatever the fuck you want” You look up at him  tears in your eyes “I can’t do this anymore Sylus and I know I say this all the time but I’m serious. I'm tired of being hurt by you, crying over you, letting you drag me back into this bullshit. And the blame isn't only on you as i keep allowing you to treat me this way, but I can't anymore” stray tears stained your cheeks as you spoke, and your throat felt tighter with each word. 

He shakes his head and grabs your face wiping the tears away “Don't” he says his voice hoarse “Don't say you're done with me. I can't let you leave; let you walk away. You're the only thing in my life that feels real, not prewritten, predestined, controlled.” he rests his forehead on yours and looks down into your eyes “[name] i need you. I want to show you off, love you without shame, i just don't know how to go against fate”  

 He leans down and brings his lips towards yours and kisses you, and you let him. You don't pull away, you lean into it. ‘I'm a fucking dumbass’ you say in your mind as he takes over your mouth. His tongue slipped into your mouth and rolls against yours. His kiss that started off gentle grew into a messy desperate and frantic one. He pushed you up against the wall his hand making its way up your shirt and cupping your breast. You pull away and look at you “Don't think you can fuck your way out of this conversation Sylus” you say shakily, slightly out of breath. His lips find their way to your neck and pressed soft kisses along it. “I’m not fucking may way out of anything, I'm showing you my choice” he murmurs into your neck, his finger now flicking your sensitive bud of your breast. You wondered if sleeping with him would just make you fall back in his trap and so you made up your mind.  

You pulled away from Sylus and shook your head “I can't Sylus, you can't keep fucking your way back into my life. If you want me you must prove it, and the first step is telling her that you don't want anything to do with her” He looks at you and shakes his head “I cant just not have her in my life, that's not how this works” he says his jaw clenching. “Sylus these bullshit ass answers you keep giving me aren't working anymore. Tell me the truth, the whole truth of why you can't let her go” You say looking at him. He turns and walks away from you causing you to turn your arms up in confusion and huff. You followed him into the living room where he poured a glass of scotch and sat down on the couch. “Her and I are connected in ways that are incomprehensible” 

He looks up at you, his brows furrowed “Shes the only one that can bring my suffering to an end. Our souls are bound and connected.” 

You look at him confused and bewildered “what fucking bull shit are you spewing to me right now” He sighs and runs his hands down his face frustrated. “See, i knew you wouldn't believe me. I'm not making this up, [name] this is a lot deeper than you know. Our bond goes back centuries and every lifetime I spend with her is a tragic one. I just wanted it to all end” he says, his voice strained and eyes desperate.  

He looks up at you and smiles softly even though it looks like it hurt to do the action “but then I met you. You gave me fire, passion, something I had never felt before” he grabs your wrist and pulls you down onto the couch with him putting you two at the same eye level. He grabs your face gently and makes you look at him. Your eyes were glassy, and your throat felt itchy with every word he said. “[Name] you gave me the passion to fight for what i want against that damned curse and that damned bond. I’m cursed to be with her and cursed to be away from you and that hurts me. So, I fight it and fight it and no matter how much I try to forget about her and be with you, it won't let me. I want you so bad it kills me to be away from you” he had your hand in his now, his face pressed against them as he spoke those last words, his voice breaking with each word.  

“Sylus” Your voice breaks as you look down at him. You had never once seen him this vulnerable. This un put together and broken. “How can you be with me if you're destined to be with her” tears flow down your cheek and drops onto his “How can you say you want to be with me if you were never meant to be mines to begin with?" He looks up at you, the bottom of his eyes red as if he was on the verge of completely breaking “please, don't do this to me. Please I need you, I can't” he gulps mid-sentence tightening his grip on your hands “I can't lose you, youre the most important thing to me”  

You pull your hands away from him and look away “I don't know.... if I can trust what youre saying” you stand and he stands with you, his forming towering over you easily and intimidatingly. “I need some time, alone, away from here, to think” you say turning away from him.

He doesn't reach out for you, doesn't try to stop you, he just stands there. “Will you come back” he asks silently, his voice raw with something you'd never heard. You don't turn to look at him. “It depends on what I find when I’m away” you then walk away and down to his bedroom to put on some clothes. You grab your things quickly and head towards the elevator.  

“[name]” Sylus calls from behind you, this time you turn to see the broken shell of a man standing there “I promise ill make sure what you find...is worth returning to” You don't answer, you just enter the elevator doors and leave.  

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt  @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly  @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04@hebreeee@noxus123@satansdaughter123

[hoperese]

Maybe This Time LN4

After a year apart, she runs into Lando at a party, where old feelings and regrets resurface. In the quiet moments outside, truths are confessed, and the weight of what was left unsaid finally comes between them.

word count: 743 pairing: lando norris x reader content: second chance trope warning: Angst, Exes meeting again, Emotional tension, Regret, Mild language, Alcohol use

rese notes: sorry for not updating... will soon upload the part 2 of this fic and multo!

It was awkward to see him again after a year had passed. Even she couldn’t wrap her head around how fast time had flown—as if it were just last night when they both decided to end the relationship. Maybe it was her struggle with the distance, or maybe it was the lack of reassurance Lando gave her. To her, it was a fifty-fifty situation. Part of her had grown tired of what Lando offered in return. She never wanted the expensive gifts he brought her; all she ever wanted was him—Lando Norris.

She found him at a party, surrounded by mutual friends. As she sipped her drink, her eyes wandered to the corner of the room where she spotted him, laughing and chatting with another guy. She cursed silently in her mind—he still looked the same. Those same eyes she fell in love with a little more each day. That same smile she used to wake up to, the one that would tell her he’d choose her every time—even if she turned into a potato. A silly, sweet memory from one of their nights together.

But now... seeing him like this—it felt different.

She stepped outside for some air, sipping her drink as she leaned against the wall and looked up at the sky. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice him quietly entering the same space—until she felt a light poke on her shoulder. Startled, she flinched and snapped, “Fucking—” as she turned around.

There he was.

“Why are you here?” she asked sharply, her voice colder than she intended. She hadn’t expected to see him out there.

“You were missing,” he replied simply.

The truth was, he’d been keeping an eye on her the entire night. He noticed when she slipped out, already knowing she would. She always did. Parties overwhelmed her.

She blinked at him, expression unreadable. “And?”

She took another sip of her drink as Lando leaned against the wall beside her.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he said softly. “You always get overwhelmed at parties like these.”

And she hated that he still knew that about her—so specifically, so intimately.

There was an awkward silence between them, heavy and filled with unspoken things. She finally broke it, her voice soft but steady. “How’s life?” It sounded simple, casual—but she meant more than that. She wasn’t asking in a polite, passing way. She wanted something real, something personal. She wanted to know how he truly was.

Lando hesitated, glancing at her as if searching for the right words. “Fine… just the usual,” he said, though he could even hear how empty it sounded. The awkwardness lingered between them.

Then her next words hit him differently.

“I missed you… you know,” she said quietly, looking away, unable to meet his eyes. After a moment, she added, almost as if confessing, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, Lan. I really didn’t.” The guilt she’d carried since that night—the night they ended it—weighed on every word. “I just thought… it would be for the better, you know?”

Lando looked at her as if she’d just said something absurd. His heart ached. “You—you think it was better? Better for us to break up?” His voice cracked slightly, emotion slipping through. “Baby—” He stopped himself, realizing the pet name had fallen from his lips without thinking. He sighed, correcting himself, “Y/n… why would you think that was better?”

The hurt was clear in his eyes. Clear in his voice. The kind of hurt that comes from believing in something, only to have it taken away.

She lowered her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought I was distracting you. Or—I don’t know—maybe the love wasn’t there anymore. And I didn’t want that, Lan.” The guilt tightened in her chest as she added softly, “Sorry…”

Lando’s expression softened, but there was pain behind his eyes. “We… we could’ve talked about it,” he said, his voice thick with the weight of what could’ve been. “I told you—sometimes things feel heavy even when they’re not.”

Slowly, he closed the space between them, close enough for her to feel the warmth of him again. His voice turned gentle, too gentle—the kind of softness that made her heart ache. “You should’ve been honest with me, love.”

And she hated that. Hated how kind he was. Hated how he could still be so tender when all she’d done was push him away.

[nanamisbbygirl]

—☆ friends with benefits!

chapter 4. mary jane & co.

paring: geto suguru x reader

genre: college au, drama, smut with plot

summary: a pact of pleasure between friends runs the risk of ruining everything. passionate flames burn the hardest. you and geto care about each other, but what happens when sex gets tangled with friendship?

cw: marijuana use, toxic relationships and friendships, angst, smut, creampie, unprotected sex

a/n: hi! i just wanted to pop in and say that trust the process with this chapter! and also that the next one might take a little longer to come out as my schedule is very hectic for the next week! i hope though that i can at least have chapter 5 out in 7-8 days instead of 4-5! enjoy!

prev. < masterlist > next

Geto hated being home. He hated the quietness of the halls, he hated the smell of the carpets. He hated how the only time his mother was there, she would complain. She would taunt him, curse his father, complain how love is for idiots. Ever since the divorce she’d been keen on that fact. 

“Your father was a fucking asshole, never believe it when someone tells you they love you. Before you know it they’ll move onto someone else,” she would hiss, scanning her son with discontent. On other occasions, she would sneer at him, reminding Geto that he was starting to look just like him. 

It was the main reason he always hosted parties– it was a day to drown out the silence that haunted his house. It was an easy distraction, the drinking, the fun, the girls. He took his mothers words very seriously, realizing among all the sweaty teenage hormones, that no one knew what loyalty was, just like what his mother had warned him about. There was always some kind of drama and someone’s heart was always breaking. 

He stood with his best friend near the window of his room, feeling the breeze dilute the skunkish smell. Intertwined between their fingers was a perfectly rolled joint, and with every inhale they puffed smoke out the opening. Geto was feeling buzzed, and he could tell Gojo was even more out of it. He knew he should’ve been using the week to study– that was its intended purpose– but being home, looking at his bed, staring at his empty phone notifications, he felt as though there was nothing else to do. 

“This shit feels so fuckin’ good,” Gojo hummed, taking another drag, “we should do it more often.” 

Geto only agreed, fidgeting with the joint slightly, cautiously taking a hit. Judging by Gojo’s body language, he was much more loose, as though his thoughts had become unfiltered. 

“This year’s been so much fun so far– whoever said college was stressful clearly wasn’t doing it right.” He laughed, continuing with his gibbering nonsense. “And man, honestly I gotta tell ya– I thought I’d been fucking around hard once school began, but I think I’m fucking falling in love.” 

The black haired boy raised a suspicious eyebrow, intrigued on what else his friend would admit to him, “oh, really?” 

Before you know it they’ll be in love with someone else, ringing in his head at the thought of his best friend supposedly being in love. 

Gojo only nodded, “something about her, the way she laughs, the way she does her makeup, I don’t know I haven’t been able to shake it. We’ve gotten much closer in the past two months. I think I’m gonna give it a shot.” 

“Gotten closer?” Geto looks confused, “did you know her from highschool or something.” 

“Something like that,” Gojo mutters. He seems tense, like he’s unsure about what he’s going to say next. “I’m just worried that things might change too drastically, stuff like this gets messy.” 

Geto thought of you, about how it all started on the very bed that was next to him. Messy was an understatement. He hadn’t seen or spoken to you since that party, since you were cozying up with that other guy, since you broke off your friendship. 

“Do you think she likes you back?” He wasn’t sure why he was playing into Gojo’s delusions, but he couldn’t help it. 

“It’s hard to say,” Gojo huffs, inhaling his joint, “we usually hang out in group settings, but when we’re alone we always have fun.” 

“Worth a shot then,” Geto muses, “but probably best to not get your hopes up.” 

“Yeah but this girl is different.” He clarifies. “Trust me, if you knew who I was talking about, you’d understand.” 

“You’re saying that like I know this chick personally.” He laughs. 

However, Gojo stiffens. “You do.” 

Geto’s eyes narrow, trying to refocus himself on the conversation. Who the hell was Gojo falling in love with? 

“Shoko?” He questions, causing his friend to scoff, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t be fucking dense.” Geto felt his face go pale, his breath slowing down as Gojo finished his sentence. “It’s y/n.” 

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, although he tries his best to keep a straight face. Geto can feel the twitching of his heart, the way it’s trying to claw through his ribcage– it makes him nauseous, and he doesn’t know why. He thinks about your angered face, the way you stormed out on him just a handful of weeks ago. 

He didn’t know what to say, wondering how much time had gone by since Gojo last spoke. He wasn’t sure if his senses were being skewed because of the weed, or because of the perplexity of the whole situation. He figured it was the weed. 

A part of him wanted to tell Gojo about your friends with benefits situation, even though it had soured. He wanted to brag to his best friend about how he’d taken your virginity, about how he was the only one to see you in such a vulnerable state. It was twisted on how much he wanted to splice through Gojo’s little romantic fantasy, but still his lips moved without his brain. 

“Really? Her?” He said almost with a chuckle, taking another long drag. “You know she probably isn’t into guys like you.” 

Gojo hissed, “and what kinda guys is she into?” 

Geto could sense the devious little smile creeping up on his face, “she’s into the type of guys that make her work for it. She likes when they’re a little bit mean.” 

“And how the fuck would you know that?” Gojo asked, puffing smoke out the window, coughing slightly. 

“Because we’ve been fucking.” He admitted, even though it was him who suggested keeping your affairs secret. Geto’s lips were curled into a grin while he smoked, waiting in anticipation for how Gojo would react. 

“You’re full of shit,” he said, starting to raise his voice. It was obvious that Geto’s words stung. 

“Tell yourself what you want,” he told his best friend, “but I even took her virginity, right… here.” He said, pointing to his bed. 

Gojo remained speechless while Geto continued. “And the craziest thing is that we’ve been doing this whole friends with benefits shit, too, but she hasn’t slept with anyone other than me.” He couldn’t say the same for himself, though. 

“Yeah but you’re not anymore. Right? That’s why we haven’t hung out as a group for a while, isn’t it?” Gojo was always the bright one, and he seemed to have figured it out quickly. 

“Maybe,” Geto mumbled and Gojo only hummed. 

“Man, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but if you don’t give a shit about her, and she doesn’t give a shit about you, I’m still gonna fucking ask her out.” He boldly declared. 

“Sure you will,” Geto could feel his words slurring together, heart still thumping. 

“No kidding she broke things off with you, do you not see how much of a douche you are? Fuck, man, me and y/n are going to the bar tonight, I’m gonna take my chances, whether you were fuck buddies or not.” 

With that, Gojo stormed out, not looking back to see the expression on his friend's face. Geto was in awe about what had just happened, as if he hadn’t been the one to instigate the situation. He couldn’t believe that Gojo was so adamant on confessing his love to you. It seemed ridiculous– couldn’t he tell that you were his? Wasn’t it clear from what he had said? Even if you weren’t on speaking terms, he knew you’d come around eventually, he knew you well enough to know that you were a forgiving person. Yet, there was an inkling of doubt now. Why wouldn’t you pick Gojo over him? 

Remembering that fateful night, how he tore that guy off of you, the rage you directed towards him, the way you brushed off his advances, he wasn’t too sure anymore. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hand over his chest as his breaths became heavy. He could only think about your face, how you seemed to hate him– how he caused all of it. He never had regrets about who he slept with, but something about you was making a new sensation arise within him. Was it because you were friends first? A constant in his life? Before you started sleeping together, he could rely on you; you would listen to his woes, and make him smile. You were a mistake, he realized, and he had to let you know that. He had to put things back the way they were before.

He was standing outside your house, still not sure what he was possibly thinking. He thought about throwing pebbles at your window, but he figured that would only make you more upset with him. He pictured himself ringing the doorbell and the face you would make when it was him standing at your door. 

But, he had already dragged himself that far, he just had to push through.

Before his knuckles could even knock on the door, though, it swung open, as if his presence had already been anticipated. It was your mom at the door, although she was clearly in a rush to get somewhere. 

“Oh hi, Suguru, nice to see you,” she smiled, warmly. “I’m just running to the store, but y/n’s upstairs.” She turned to call for you, letting you know that a friend was at the door. 

“Tell them to come up,” you replied, although judging by how happy you sounded, you weren’t expected to see him standing at your door. 

You were seated at your vanity, starting to doll yourself up, wearing nothing but lingerie. Were you doing all this just to see Gojo? He felt his heart skip a beat, studying every inch of your body. The white lace; the way it perfectly framed your plunging breasts, complimenting your skin. You just looked so angelic, hair pushed back, innocently getting ready. Little did you know Gojo had every intention of confessing to you. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You snapped at him, rightfully so. 

Geto was speechless, it felt like for the first time in his life, he was at a true loss of words. He stared deeply into your eyes, gulping before mustering up the courage to spew out his words. 

“I just needed to talk to you, now that we’ve both calmed down.” 

“Both? You think a week was enough for me to not be mad at you anymore?” Your eyes narrowed. 

“No- I mean I just at least wanted to tell you something, before anyone else got the chance to tell you this.” He explained, “When you and Satoru go out tonight, he’s gonna tell you that he’s in love with you.” 

Your expression softened, as if you were imagining the other man, filling your face up with some perfect little day dream. Geto could feel an angry grunt getting caught in his mouth before he continued with what he thought was the best solution to all of this. 

“And I think you should also know that I’m sorry.” 

“Do you really think sorry is going to fix it? You treated me like shit.” You huffed, standing up in order to get closer to him. As you looked up at him, Geto felt himself melting, almost as if the proximity between the two of you was affecting his judgement. 

“I know, I-I can’t explain what it is about me, but I can never get close to people properly. I always do something to fuck it up. I’m surprised our friendship lasted three years before I fucked it up-” 

“Are you saying sleeping with me was a mistake?" You interrupted, and Geto felt himself shaking his head quickly. 

“No,” he took a deep breath, building up the strength to continue, “I’m saying that I shouldn’t have done things the way I did. But, I will never regret sleeping with you. I just wish that I could’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You’re practically standing face-to-face, feeling the intensity of his soul crushing down on you. He was being truthful, it was clear through his gaze, with the way his body was limp, like he had dropped every line of defense. 

“Honest about what?” Your voice was a borderline whisper. 

“Honest about the fact I’m in love with you. It just took me ruining everything to realize it.” His confession is swift, but heartfelt. You look up at him with starry eyes, wide and yearning for him to kiss you. 

“Su..” you say, your thoughts trailing off as you reach up to kiss him, entangling your hands in his hair. His arms hug your waist, bringing you into his chest. 

Everything felt like a blur, from the way you guided him to your bed, wrapping your legs around his waist, passionately kissing him with all the strength in your body. He feels it in the way he grinds himself against your white panties, and how he slips down your bra straps. You’ve never looked more beautiful, he can barely find words to describe it. 

So when you end up on top of him, cute little underwear pushed to the side, his raw cock teasing your entrance, he thinks he’s finally at peace with the world. You carefully ease yourself onto him, chanting out how much you love him, how good he is, it rings in his ears like a melodic symphony. 

“Fuck Sugu, you feel so good,” you cry out, riding him without a care in the world. This is different from all the sex he’s had before, this one isn’t as lustful, the girls aren’t squealing out obscenities for him, not begging to be roughed up, or to be degraded. It’s genuine. He feels as though he could be in this moment forever. 

You bounce on his dick, hands resting on his chest for support, simultaneously pushing your boobs forward. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you pant out, giving him a warning before he starts feeling the intensity of your orgasm. You clench around him and he’s never felt better. He can sense that his own end is near too, but he doesn’t want to pull out. 

“That’s it pretty girl, cum for me, yeah good girl.” His hands find your waist, stopping you from squirming, “fuck, ‘gonna make me cum, fuuck I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, baby.” 

“Please Su,” you plead with him, “I love you so much, please cum in me.” And he does.

Although, it doesn’t feel as good as he thinks it would feel. 

That’s when he wakes up. 

That’s when he realises he never left his room.

He curses the marijuana for making him pass out, and he curses himself even more when he looks down and sees the stain on his crotch. It was just some fucking wet dream, he concludes, groaning as he rubs his hands over his face. 

Before he could reach for his phone, he took a deep breath, feeling the way his heart ached at the fact that he didn’t get to say those words to you in real life. Looking at the time, it read 10:47. Fuck. 

He thought about what Gojo was telling him early– that you were going to the bar. Which bar? He looked to see if his friend had posted any photos and luckily for Geto, he had. 

Roxxy Bar and Lounge. Posted ten minutes ago, it’s a picture of your drinks. He figures if he leaves now maybe he’ll make it in time, before Gojo drinks up the courage to tell you how he really feels. 

Geto knows that he, too, has some explaining to do. He needs to tell you that he’s sorry, he needs to tell you everything he told you in his dream and more. He can’t let you slip away, not like this, not when he was the one driving you away the whole time. 

taglist: @bunnygorex @iwas-baby @coffee-and-geto @i2s2m @zeunys @murasakiyams @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @izluvsyou @goonforgeto @multistan-247 @chosoclub @idyllicsam @0tsukie @suckkuna @loverzxi @lilbxtchsyndrome @blombat @ll0rona @astrokenny @izluvsyou @saint-boudica @cutehobii @shadyd3ar @getofanclub @suguruswifett @rryujn @kenmacantakemeaway @keiva1000 @reader2004 @hearts-for-asa @siennadoodles @se-phi-roth @reidluvr9 [open]

© all work belongs to nanamisbbygirl on tumblr, please do not plagiarize, repost or translate anywhere

[hencheri]

▸ 18+ mdni. | warnings. size kink, implied loss of virginity (depends how you see it), kun's disgustingly in love <3 this was requested, so that's why i'm writing cute stuff.

at the start of your relationship, kun was careful. a small sensitive thing like you couldn't get injured, and surely not by him—not yet, at least. he was patient, telling himself that it was worth it to wait, to not rush things. he knew you couldn't handle someone like him, and even less take him, but with a little bit of training, you would eventually be able to.

he thinks you look the prettiest underneath him, wide eyes looking up at him, fully trusting him. it's endearing, really, how you let him take care of you, not even asking him questions. nothing matters, you just want kun.

with a silent nod of your head, he finally pushes at your entrance, stretching you out on his cock. he doesn't stop at the tip like usual, he instead continues his way in despite hearing your little whines, clearly not used to the sensation.

"you're fine, baby, you're fine," he reassures you, leaning down to softly kiss your temple. he feels your hands closing around his biceps and your index finger barely reaches your thumb. "just a lil' bit more," he says.

"okay," you breathe out, biting down into your bottom lip to hold back a whimper.

he bottoms out and lets out a hiss when you clench around him, realizing you have the entirety of him inside of you for the first time. it hurts, but you're relieved that you finally can feel all of him.

"i'm gonna move now," kun warns you, "hold onto me, baby."

your grip tightens around him, and if kun didn't think you were hurting, he'd maybe complain about your nails digging into his skin. he moves his hips back, waiting a few seconds for you to take your breath before slowly bottoming out again. your pussy gushes around him and it slightly reassures him to know that you're literally soaking wet. makes things a lot less painful and much smoother.

after some time, his pace grows faster, and you're extremely whiny, but kun can clearly see that pain slowly fades into pleasure. "doing so good f'me," he praises, panting heavily, mouth open to let the air out. "your tiny cunt is squeezing my cock so tight, fuck," he says, almost moaning out from how heavenly you feel.

"so big, kun," you cry, eyes wet and glossy. you feel him so deep, and for a reason, because when you look down where you both meet, you see the bulge of his cock through your stomach.

when kun hears your quiet gasp, he follows your gaze down. "shit," he curses under his breath. he never thought he'd ever see such a cute, yet so arousing sight. it only amplifies the possessiveness he has over you, his desire to protect and ruin you at the same time.

"i love you so much, baby," kun moans out, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his skin slapping against yours. "so fucking much. all mine."

[bowxs]

66 with Soldier Boy x bratty!Reader. She is teasing him all day and when he finally has enough he fucks her till she cries. (And very soft aftercare with praise and Ben being so sweet with her)

66. “dont talk like that then cry when i fuck you too hard”

divider from @cursed-carmine

when most people thought of teasing, they would think of bending over in front of their partner, teasing words, and tantalizing touches, but no. ben expected that of you. you had to do more.

ben was sitting on the couch, a half smoked joint between his fingers with some stupid sports game playing on the tv, but you werent paying attention. how could you when ben was right there, legs spread so deliciously in those jeans that hug him just right- god he was hot.

before you could say ‘fuck me’, you were on your knees in front of him, your manicured nails trailing up and down his meaty thighs that felt so good in between your legs. ben didnt even bat an eye, too used to your behaviour by now. he just let out a small hum of acknowledgement, which was anything but satisfactory for you

you leaned up, your hand tracing over the soft outline of him through his jeans before your palm covered it, gently pressing down and rubbing. you kept your mouth busy too, kissing along his thigh- those sloppy, open mouthed kisses that ben seemed to love

“watcha doin’ down there, baby?” bens voice is heavy, still paying attention to the game playing on TV but occasionally flickering his eyes down to watch the way you palm him through his pants

you felt him twitch to life beneath your hand, steadily beginning to grow into a semi. bingo. you moved your hand from his now barely visible bulge and your lips from his thigh, instead backing away and resting your hands on his knees

“uh-uh, keep going” he tsks, giving you a pointed look thats supposed to hold a warning- to scare you- but you really cant help it if it just turned you on instead

“say please” you can see the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes harden, the slight annoyance creeping in. you smirk to yourself, letting your hands trail back up his thighs again

“i cant hear you, benny.. you gotta say please for this pussy” he practically rolls his eyes at that, and you almost laugh- almost- before hes leaning forward and his hand is in your hair, tugging.

“dont talk like that then cry when i fuck you too hard” bens grip on your hair never falters, and you can practically moan from how hot he sounds when he finally snaps at all your teasing.

his cock bullied in and out of you at a relentless pace, his hand gripping your hips so tight you couldve sworn you heard one of his knuckles crack.

he had you on your side, legs pushed together on the bed, making you somehow even tighter around him with your legs crossed. both of your hands were held together behind your back by one of his big hands

“cant even take a good fucking- always talking a big game but cant fuckin’ take it” he almost mocks you, a cocky grin on his face as he watches a few stray tears drip down your face

“s’top much- benny m’sorry-” your voice is weak, desperate even, your hands wriggling in his grasp as you tried to move away from him, running away from the pleasure

“poor thing” he coos “crying cause my dicks to fuckin’ good” hes so damn condescending, yet you cant stop yourself as you clench around him at his words, cause damnit he was right.

bens hands were soft and gentle as he held you against his chest while you lay on-top of him. ben was never one for gentle, not before you atleast, so he was always considerate to show you that side of him especially in times like these

“your so good for me, baby. so fuckin’ good” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss where he spoke while his hand gently stroked up and down your arm

his movements weren’t demanding, weren’t wanting or expecting- they were just him. “really?” you ask, craning your head back to look up at him, your voice almost hesitant as if you didn’t believe it, but you just wanted him to say it again

“yeah baby, really. your always so good” he smiled sweetly at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead this time, finally giving you what you really wanted this whole time

[anotherhomelanderblog]

Ichor

Summary: Homelander returns to you bleeding after his confrontation with Soldier Boy goes awry. Seeing your lover injured is a new and disconcerting experience for you - and, unfortunately, sometimes panic makes your tongue stupid. Content: Homelander x Reader | established relationship | angst | hurt/comfort | set near end of S3 | mild injury | blood Word count: 2.7k Author's note: Hello again, lovely people! This is just a standalone fic since I wanted to post something and I figured this would be one of my shorter ideas. However, it has still turned into a psychological minefield for me to navigate - and now, my own sanity in tatters, I cut it loose! I just thought Homie could do with some reassurance after Soldier Boy rejects him near the end of S3. This fic is also a birthday present for @themeraldee, who is so sweet and kind and has the absolutely galaxy brained ideas planned for this awful man! I hope you have the best day! ❤️

ao3

You’re not thinking when you say it.

You’re running on adrenaline, trying to be the grown up, hold the fort together. He’s bleeding, for Christ’s sake. You’ve never seen him bleed before. He hasn’t even specified why out loud to you. What on earth are you meant to be thinking?

He’s barely said a word since thundering back into the penthouse, where you were anxiously waiting, with a bleeding Ryan and a team of even more anxious medics in tow. His gloved hands haven’t stopped twitching at his sides for at least ten minutes, something the medics clustered around Ryan on the sofa seem all too conscious of.

You want to ask Homelander what happened, who did this to him, to both of them, but there’s a silence in the air that’s got your nerves on edge. Homelander’s eyes are irritated when they flit recurrently around the room. There’s a light flickering above that you can tell is bothering him.

He’s probably right – of course he is – when he mutters to no one in particular that Ryan doesn’t need checking over. Ryan is like him. But then, that gash on Ryan’s forehead would concern any father, wouldn’t it? And you can’t see who else but Homelander dragged the medics up here while the rest of the tower is under evacuation orders.

And it’s not as though he’s stopped you from dabbing his left ear with a cloth. It’s not as though he is invulnerable to injury either, apparently.

Blood. Homelander’s blood. You can smell it, or maybe that’s just panic. A droplet of it is smeared across the meat of your hand. You don’t know whether this makes you feel sick or honoured.

The Homelander is bleeding. He bleeds.

And all you can do is fucking dab, dab, dab at the evidence.

You’re furious with yourself for taking his invulnerability for granted in the past. He bleeds. How can such a thing surprise you? You're really not thinking straight. You get about half a second’s worth of internal warning that you’re about to say something stupid when a strange little laugh bubbles up from somewhere panicked in your chest. But it’s too late.

“So it is blood and not ichor running through your veins then,” you blurt out.

You can’t take your eyes off the redness leeching from his ear.

At once, Homelander’s restless gaze snaps to you. He looks unimpressed – you have made a bad joke – and an apology is already forming in that same panicked place inside you. You can’t imagine what your own face is currently doing.

But then, lo and behold, his expression falters. His brows pull together, and he tilt his head slightly.

“Why– Why would you say that?” he asks.

He sounds wounded in a way that makes your heart knock with guilt. You freeze and withdraw the cloth from his ear. His ego is worryingly fragile for a man of his abilities, yes, but tonight of all nights you shouldn’t be tripping over the cracks.

“I–”

“Just forget it,” he interrupts you.

He curses under his breath and turns towards the invitingly lit wall of mirrors lurking to the side of you both, his eyes glistening. Oh no. You know the signs of what – and who – may be bargaining for a visit if he’s eying those up. Fortunately, Ryan seems too distracted in conversation with the medics to notice the change in his father’s demeanour.

You pivot after Homelander, grabbing his padded arm. He doesn’t stop you. You feel him trembling. A muscle in his jaw spasms in warning. He’s clearly caught between storming off and drawing Ryan’s attention or staying put for more public humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You sound more grounded this time.

He doesn’t move. If you were anyone else, it’d be imperative you run a mile right about now. But you both know you’re in far too deep for that.

Instead, you walk directly into the blast zone: stepping in front of him, you take his face in your hands. His eyes are downcast, purposely avoiding yours. He scrunches them shut as you start to stroke his cheeks.

“Hey. I am sorry,” you say in a softer tone. “Sometimes I say stupid stuff when I’m shocked, but I really didn’t mean anything. Will you please tell me what happened tonight? Hm?”

On the one hand, he’s fine: his hearing doesn’t seem to have been affected by what must be a ruptured ear drum. You know he has unimaginable experience in dealing with pain, but you don’t think he’s masking anything here. No, what’s bothering him is more mental than physical.

Isn’t it always?

His eyes open again as a rogue tear finally spills down his left cheek. For the sake of his pride, you ignore it. His gaze becomes distant, honed on one of the mirrors; it’s from behind that protective glass he’s recounting events. He gestures vaguely to his ear.

“This was Maeve. She got my nose as well.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Then he sniffs despite himself. “She’s dead now. Soldier Boy too.”

You’d figured he was gone when that terrifying explosion destroyed half the tower. The fact Homelander could fly you to safety at a moment’s notice, should the whole structure collapse, is one of the only things keeping you brave enough to stay up here.

But Maeve…

You’ll have to decide how you feel about that later.

Homelander closes his eyes once more and finally lets himself lean into your touch, as needy for your affection as the first time you offered it.

“Did you get to talk to him?” you ask, brushing your thumbs along his jaw.

That was supposed to be his play for the meeting: try to get Soldier Boy to switch sides now they knew their familial connection. Who were Butcher and his ragtag band of criminals in comparison to Compound V and blood? It was a wishful scheme borne from the desperate, impulsive part of your lover that increasingly gets the best of him, but you wouldn’t have dared suggest an alternative. He’d gotten that look in his eye.

And then Noir ended up dead.

Right here, however, in the cold light of reality, something in Homelander’s face crumples for a second time. You’re getting close to the raw core of this. The bleeding you’ve witnessed very literally pales in comparison. He’s avoiding your gaze again.

“Yes,” he says, and his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “But…”

You don’t like the emphasis he puts on that word.

Your mind runs through every possible nightmare scenario until you find your arms are enveloping him of their own accord. You bury your face against his chest and inhale deeply. A soft, surprised noise breezes over your head, then you feel one of his hands reach up to gently stroke through your hair.

You pretend you don’t also feel the vice-like grip of his other hand as it snakes around the base of your neck, keeping you wedged to the Vought-branded padding of his suit. His. It really is far too late for running, but this element of him you can handle.

As long as he’s standing. As long as he’s alive. You don’t try to resist him; you press a kiss to his chest.

What happened at that confrontation? It’s times like these you wish you had powers too, so you could stand alongside him when the crunch comes. You knew something was going to go wrong in there…

“You deserved better,” you whisper.

You’re not expecting this comment to make him flinch like you’ve burnt him, but it does. His hand stills in your hair for an instant before he’s petting you like nothing stopped him. If you listen carefully enough, you’re sure you’ll be able to hear the muscles behind his face filtering through several conflicting expressions.

“What?” he eventually asks, bewildered in that unworldly manner of his that surfaces when the world gets too genuine. You know he can’t help it; most of the time, it only endears him to you more.

“You deserved better than to find out you had a father and then lose him like that,” you clarify.

Truth be told, you’re not particularly saddened by the demise of Soldier Boy. Finding out he was Homelander’s biological father might’ve been enough to turn Homelander’s world on its head – how could it not? – but, to you, he remained the scarily powerful supe trying to depower and murder your lover. Forgive you if you’re not his biggest fan. With his death, at least he can’t pose that threat anymore.

“Yeah, well…” Homelander’s voice sounds choked all of a sudden. Because he feels touched by your words or is freshly grieved about his father, you're not sure. He sighs and clears his throat. “Let’s just say, he didn’t see it that way.”

Now you frown.

“What did he say to you?” You let go of him and try to pull back to properly gauge what he’s getting at, but that’s the wrong response. He doesn’t let you. You hope Ryan is still distracted enough not to notice any of this. “Homelander, I swear to God, if he’s been filling your head with bullshit–”

“I’m a fucking disappointment, apparently. Imagine that.”

He snarls the words into your ear, and his fist tightens in your hair as he does. The whiplash of his vitriol would make you flinch in return, if you didn’t already feel his hold on you finally loosening – though you’re still not free.

Clinically controlled, he tilts your head back like you’re a precious china doll for him to position, and one of his thumbs strokes your jaw as yours did his earlier. But there’s none of that anger in his voice marring his face. Instead, he stares into your eyes – scrutinising you, yes, but – with a wariness that should be unbalancing.

“Well? Am I a disappointment to you too?” he asks.

He’s trying to project bitterness. You sense the undercurrent of him pleading for your assurance mixed in too, never able to just ask outright without lashing you too, so you know better than to think this means you have the upper hand here. After all, this isn’t a fair question for the strongest man in the world to ask a person whose life he could crush between the fingers of one hand. But that isn’t his fault, you tell yourself, and you meet his desperation with an intensity you can only have learnt from him.

“No, you're not,” you say firmly. “And I know you much better than Soldier Boy did.”

It takes a lot for you to hold off sneering his father’s name. Still, if anything, this measured response seems to upset him further – you’re not giving him opportunity to escalate. How unfair.

With a curt sigh, he slides the arm not gripping your jaw downwards to take the bloodstained cloth from you. It’s been clenched in your grip, but you relinquish it without fuss to watch in confusion as Homelander draws it up to his face to wipe something from his right cheek.

Foundation? Concealer?

Your brow creases, but he doesn’t speak. His eyes bore into yours as he drags the cloth over his skin. His movements are rigid, like you’re forcing him to do this. Is this a test of some sort? Gradually, the makeup smears with the blood already laced into the cloth’s damp fabric, revealing the not-quite invulnerable skin underneath is… inflamed.

You blink.

Homelander has a bruise below his right eye socket spreading the length of his cheekbone – and, from the state of the discolouration, you’d wager it’s not a fresh one. Your mind starts to fly once again with questions, when the culprit hits you.

Herogasm. That fucking ambush.

“Fuck,” you whisper, staring transfixed at the unwanted souvenir.

You don't want to imagine how hard someone would’ve had to hit him to leave a bruise like this. You reach up to caress the injured cheek, but he turns his head away. Your heart clenches.

“Oh, sweetheart–”

“Don’t be embarrassed? Right.” He scoffs, forcing the fake nonchalance back, then releases his hold on you entirely. His eyes close, and when he reopens them, they’re glassy and irritable like earlier. “I mean, you signed up to date a god, didn’t you? Don’t you wish my veins were filled with ichor? You can be honest.”

You bristle. “Of course not. I told you. I didn’t mean–”

“Because I fucking do.”

There’s an accusation in his gaze – and, if you’re not mistaken, a millisecond’s flash of red. Fortunately for him, you spy the pitiful and humiliated creature lurking underneath it, and it gives you pause.

“Blood is more than good enough for me. Especially the blood that runs through your veins,” you tell him, stepping closer as if to prove it. You jab his chest. “You’re not the disappointment in this situation, understand? Soldier Boy is. Stop expecting me to reject you too.”

He blinks several times in quick succession, but, this time, when you tentatively reach out, he lets you trace over his cheek with the pads of your fingers. He hums, which you take to be a nonverbal sign of his approval. He’s actually barely resisting the urge to nuzzle against your touch.

Relief floods your system.

Chuckling, you lean in and kiss the part of the bruise that appears the least tender for good measure. Despite the fact you don't have the strength to make it any worse, that isn’t the point.

“You have a family who loves you, Homelander. We’re not going anywhere,” you whisper. “I chose you. I’ll choose you every day. You’d better believe me.”

A huff leaves his lips as you start peppering little kisses across his face. His hands slip comfortably around your waist, and he offers you a soft look. You offer him a smile in return. His lips meet yours like nothing is wrong in the world.

And, for one blissful second, nothing is.

“Uh, dad?” Ryan calls over.

You jerk back in surprise, your face warming. It doesn’t take an emotional genius to hear the awkwardness in Ryan’s voice. There’s a brief glimmer of amusement in Homelander’s eyes at your reaction before he’s plastering on his most reassuring, fatherly smile.

“Yeah, buddy? Everything alright?” he calls back.

With a needlessly dramatic swoosh of his cape, he strides over to his son, dismissing the medics with a warning flick of his wrist. None of them need telling twice.

Crisis averted. You hope.

The source of your anxiety finally settled, you take to inspecting your hands in an effort not to eavesdrop on father and son. The small streak of Homelander’s blood that had so bothered you earlier catches your attention. You find yourself more at peace with it now. What was previously crimson liquid is turning a dry brown in the fine lines of your skin, nestled into you as snugly as you know he’d like to be in his ideal world.

You observe this tangible proof of his humanity that connects you both on a level you’ve not had access to before. The sight of it fills you with a strange compulsion, one you’d normally consider morbid. You raise your hand to your lips, casting a quick glance across the room to make sure you’re not being watched, and lick at the blood.

…What exactly were you expecting?

The taste is faintly metallic, same as your own. Ordinary. Authentically human. Nothing artificial, to your palate. Nothing divine either.

You glance back over at Homelander. He’s reverted to form – hands clasped behind his back; superhero assurances that he won’t ever let anyone hurt Ryan like this again, he will not let them; that William Butcher doesn’t deserve Ryan, that Ryan deserves better, is better, innately better, than everyone who caused him this pain; that Homelander isn’t going anywhere; that they’ve got this, they’ll be fine.

Your lover may now know he isn’t as synthetic as he was led to believe, and he may know you love him, but you’re not so sure he’ll ever accept that he isn’t of the divine.

Homelander bleeds blood and not ichor, and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[dee-writes-anime]

The Art of Homemade Gloves

FEATURING Choso Kamo x Reader

SUMMARY When you handed him a heat pack and told him to get some rest, you didn’t think anything of it. But Choso had never really been given warmth before and now he doesn’t know how to stop bringing it back to you.

CONTENT WARNINGS choso is awkward (!!!), not much other than cute fluff :D

AUTHORS NOTE some cute choso fluff I wrote to break up some request posting. Sometimes, you just gotta let those creative juices flow freely. ;)

It starts with a mission and a sore back.

The fight hadn’t been brutal, but it left everyone scraped raw—too much cursed energy in the air, too many small injuries that didn’t need a healer, just rest. By the time Choso finds a quiet hallway in the safehouse to sit down and breathe, the adrenaline’s long gone and a strange stillness is settling into his bones. Not peace. Not exactly. Just quiet.

You find him there, sitting against the wall like an abandoned shadow, elbows on his knees, head lowered. You don’t say anything right away. Just sit beside him with a soft grunt and stretch your legs out. Close, but not too close. It’s that subtle kind of closeness he’s noticed about you—natural, like you belong where you are without needing to ask permission.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Breathing in the same air, letting silence do what it does best: make space.

Then, you nudge something into his lap.

He looks down.

It’s a heat pack—one of those soft, microwavable ones, stuffed with rice or seeds, a faint trace of lavender clinging to the fabric. It’s warm. Still holding the heat from your hands.

“You looked tense,” you say. “Helps with the soreness. Just pop it in the microwave for like thirty seconds.”

He stares at it, confused. “You’re giving me this?”

You shrug. “Yeah. You didn’t look like the type to grab one for yourself.”

That’s… true. He wouldn’t have.

You stand, stretching your arms overhead, the hem of your shirt lifting just slightly. Choso looks away.

“Rest up, Choso,” you say over your shoulder, and then you’re gone.

He stares at the heat pack a while longer before pressing it to his chest like it might teach him something.

The next day, you find your favorite bottled tea sitting on your desk.

No note. No explanation. Just a single can, placed neatly beside your papers.

You glance down the hallway in time to see Choso disappearing around the corner.

The day after that, it’s a bag of spicy chips—the exact kind you’d mentioned craving once after a mission, in passing, weeks ago.

You open the bag and pop a chip into your mouth, chewing slowly.

“…Huh.”

When you see him again in the common room, you raise an eyebrow.

“Choso,” you say, arms crossed. “Are you… bribing me?”

He freezes mid-step, holding another drink can in his hand. You’ve caught him in the act. His eyes dart to the tea, then to you.

“No,” he says immediately, too fast. Then he pauses. “…Is it working?”

You try very hard not to laugh. “Maybe.”

He nods, completely serious, and sets the can down carefully before turning and walking away with the stiff posture of a man fleeing a crime scene.

You’re still laughing ten minutes later.

The gifts don’t stop.

They’re not flashy—never flowers or jewelry or anything extravagant. Just little things. Snacks. Canned drinks. A fresh roll of wrist tape after a tough training session. A pair of soft socks when the weather turns colder.

One day, it’s a neatly folded cotton scarf. You recognize it from the vendor stalls near the school—simple but warm, and in a color you once said you liked. Choso doesn’t even stick around to see you open it.

You don’t know what to do with it all, exactly. You try to give things back. He refuses every time.

“No,” he says, like it’s obvious. “It’s for you.”

Sometimes he hovers after dropping things off, pretending he’s not hovering. He doesn’t talk much, but his presence fills up the space slowly, like steam curling through the air.

Eventually, you stop pretending you don’t enjoy it.

One evening, after a mission with a few too many close calls, you sit outside the safehouse, elbows on your knees, cooling off under the open sky. The stars are just starting to emerge—faint and flickering. You rub your thumb over a small cut on your palm, mind wandering.

Choso appears quietly beside you, holding something wrapped in a soft cloth.

You blink. “Another peace offering?”

He sits without answering and sets the bundle in your hands.

You unwrap it carefully.

Inside is a pair of gloves. Hand-stitched, soft, warm. The seams are slightly uneven in a way that makes your chest hurt. Not messy—just… real. Like someone had done their best, even if they weren’t used to doing things like this.

You slip them on. They fit perfectly.

“You made these?” you ask, voice soft.

He nods once.

You flex your fingers and stare down at your hands, searching for words. Before you can find them, Choso speaks first.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the horizon. “After you gave me that thing.”

You look up at him.

“The heat pack,” he clarifies. “You gave it to me and… didn’t ask for anything. You just did it.”

He pauses. His voice is low and steady, but you can hear the tension underneath, like a bowstring drawn tight.

“No one’s ever done that before,” he says. “Just… gave me something. Because they wanted to.”

Your heart pulls, slow and deep.

“I didn’t know how to say thank you,” he adds. “So I started… bringing things.”

You swallow, touched in a way that’s hard to describe.

“I noticed.”

His hands twitch in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you say gently. “It’s… really sweet, actually.”

He turns to look at you—cautious, uncertain.

“You didn’t have to do any of that,” you continue, “but I’m glad you did.”

He’s quiet. Then, after a long pause:

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you say immediately.

He exhales, quiet and almost imperceptible.

“…Good.”

Things shift after that.

Not dramatically—just slightly. Like a door left cracked open. Choso starts lingering more. Sometimes he doesn’t bring anything at all, just sits with you while you read, or trains quietly nearby.

He doesn’t speak much. But when he does, it’s careful. Intentional. Like he weighs every word before offering it to you.

And sometimes, he watches you.

Not in a way that feels heavy or uncomfortable. Just… watchful. Soft-eyed. Like you’re something he’s trying very hard to understand. Or maybe memorize.

You don’t push. You just let it be. And quietly, you start giving back.

You bring him little things, too. Not out of obligation—just instinct. His favorite onigiri. A new set of hair ties. A small bottle of eucalyptus oil for his aches. The first time you brush a leaf out of his hair after a mission, he goes so still you think he’s stopped breathing.

Then he thanks you in a voice so quiet it barely makes it past his lips.

One day, you find a new heat pack on your bed.

It’s handmade. Soft fabric, the same color as your favorite hoodie. There’s a note tucked underneath, the handwriting small and oddly careful:

For when you’re sore. Or cold. Or both. —Choso

You press it to your chest, smile, and feel warmer than the pack itself.

You don’t realize how normal it’s become—this strange rhythm between you—until you wake up one evening from a post-mission nap on the common room couch and find Choso sitting on the floor beside you.

He’s reading. His legs are crossed, and there’s a mug in his hands. The book’s upside down, you realize after a moment.

You blink groggily. “How long was I out?”

He glances over, calm as ever. “Not long.”

There’s a blanket draped over your shoulders.

You frown, tugging at it. “Did you…?”

He looks vaguely guilty.

You smile. “Thanks.”

You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. Choso sets the book aside (right side up this time) and watches you for a moment. Not saying anything. Just… looking.

There’s something in his gaze tonight. Something quiet and vulnerable and very, very present.

You decide to ask the thing that’s been sitting in the back of your mind for weeks now.

“Choso,” you say, “are you courting me?”

He freezes.

You swear you see his soul leave his body for a full three seconds.

“…I don’t know,” he says finally, voice small. “Am I?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“I think so,” you say gently. “And if you are—I don’t mind. In fact, I kind of like it.”

His eyes widen slightly, like you’ve just handed him the moon and asked if he wanted to keep it.

Then—slowly, like a cloud parting—he smiles. Just a little.

“…Okay,” he says.

You reach out and take his hand.

It’s warm.

So are you.

[ssentimentals]

Hii! Saw your post for the 1.8k! First of all, Congrats!!

Is it possible to make 5 and 7 angsty at first, later fluff? I picture jun or dino for these prompts, you can choose

hii, sweets! thank you so much 💜 i will go with dino on this one, mainly bc i can't imagine jun ever cursing :D thank you for requesting, hope you'll like it!

prompts: 'where the fuck have you been?!' & 'look, all i'm trying to tell you i- oh god, no, please don't cry'

your fingers shake as you take out your phone and the shaking grows worse when you can't turn it on. it dawns on you that it's probably been off for quite some time now and new wave of anxiety comes crashing down. people were probably been calling, god, dino probably called thousand times; why do you never take your charger with you? why do you never check the battery before going out? your heart squeezes uncomfortably in your chest as you stare dumbly at the black phone screen. the main point is to calm down. what did all these tiktokers say? right, regulated nervous system, big breaths, no anxiety. easy to say, impossible to do when your lungs want to collapse at this very same second. the ringing in your ears is so loud, you don't even hear nearing footsteps, nor do you react at your name being shouted four times. only when pair of strong arms grab you by the shoulders and twist you around, only then ringing stops.

'where the fuck have you been?!' dino's shout is loud enough to make you flinch. his eyes are wide and angry, his breathing is erratic like he ran all the way to you. by the sweat on his forehead you realize that he probably did. 'why aren't you answering my calls?!'

it paralyzes you, this anger. rationally you know that dino is mor worried than he is angry, but rationality took a step back when anxiety decided to take the reins. dino practically radiates anger as his gaze sweeps by your body once, twice - checking for any injuries. his mouth is moving, but you can't hear a thing; you close your eyes trying to come back to reality. you focus on dino's hands - warm and gentle despite him being angry, the way they caress your shoulders, how they lovingly hold your wrists. you focus on dino's voice - anger already bled out from it, leaving only worry behind.

'look, all i'm trying to tell you i- oh god, no, please don't cry,' his arms are suddenly on your waist, pulling you close until your face is tucked securely on his neck.

you don't even notice that you started crying - the way tears fill up your eyes is almost surprising. but when you notice it you can't stop; it's like something broke inside of you and all the tension finds it's way out in form of tears. dino holds you through your weeping with an unwavering strength, his grip on you never once went lax. his hands roaming your back gently served like a reminder that he is here, with you. 'it's alright, let it out, i'm sorry, baby, i'm here' whispered in your ear were like soothing balm to your heart.

'good?' he asks, when you calmed down. he places small kiss on top of your head. 'you with me, baby?'

'y-yeah.' you breathe out, but still prefer to hide your face, not looking up. 'i'm sor-'

'no,' he interrupts forcefully, tightening his grip on you. 'don't say it. i am sorry for checking, for not finding you sooner. and sorry for scaring you with my shouting, i was looking for you for hours and your turned off phone really made me-' he pauses, taking a deep breath. 'made me think of- very bad. things. and i'd rather die than let something happen to you, so. i'm sorry baby. i love you, you're feeling better?'

you do and don't at the same time. you're exhausted mentally, but having dino around, hearing dino tell you that he loves you is the best feeling in the world. but you still want to crash out in your bed, preferrably with his arms wrapped around you. 'can we go home?' you ask in a small voice, finally looking up.

the amount of love in dino's eyes makes your heart sing. he looks at you like if you asked for the moon right now, he'd get it. 'of course we can, baby,' he whispers, smiling at you gently. 'of course.'

a/n: wrote this and fell into dino rabbit hole :') hopefully you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

—

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[blueberryfics]

jjk headcanons: their favorite things

Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Shoko Ieiri, Choso Kamo, Takuma Ino, Toji Fushiguro, Yuki Tsukumo

CONTAINS: my own headcanons about jjk characters’ personalities/interests (that’s MY OPINION!!!!)

My blog is 18+. Minors please DNI!

Satoru Gojo

COLOR: Blue

ARTIST/BAND: He lovesss the pop girlies like Sabrina Carpenter, Ariana Grande, and Chappell Roan. His fav is probably the diva herself, Mariah Carey

SONG: Emotions - Mariah Carey (he tries to hit the high notes). He also fucks with the I’m Just Ken song from the Barbie movie

MOVIE: Loves comedies; Superbad is his #1 and he’s watched it countless times

TV SHOW: Any reality tv!!! Love Island is his current fav but Catfish and ANTM had a chokehold on him back in the day. Also Digimon Adventure lol

FOOD: Sweet foods (as we know). Obviously mochi, but also considering how much official art there is of him eating those damn blue popsicles, I’d say those are a fav of his too

Suguru Geto

COLOR: Black

ARTIST/BAND: Sad bitch music. Lana Del Rey, Mitski, etc.

SONG: Love Me More - Mitski; Heavy Balloon - Fiona Apple

MOVIE: He’s a bit of a film bro tbh. He’s the kind of guy who watches American Psycho and is like “me lmao”. He loves the classic film bro movies like Fight Club and Joker

TV SHOW: He doesn’t watch a lot of TV because he prefers movies. If he is going to watch a show, though, it’s probably either Bojack Horseman or something like Breaking Bad

FOOD: Honestly something plain like rice or miso. I think the taste of curses would make him feel nauseous often so he’d probably prefer to eat things that settle his stomach

Kento Nanami

COLOR: Purple (wild card ik, I don’t think he mentions it often but if asked that’s what he’d say. He just finds it the most aesthetically pleasing)

ARTIST/BAND: MCR obviously. Resident elder emo <3 I think he’d also fw Green Day and Rage Against the Machine

SONG: Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

MOVIE: The Matrix (I just feel like he would like the concept of waking up from the system yk)

TV SHOW: The Great British Bake Off

FOOD: Any bread product ofc. A good brioche will make him see new dimensions

Shoko Ieiri

COLOR: Sage green

ARTIST/BAND: Any nu metal

SONG: Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit (don’t try to clown on her music taste or you’ll be leaving with a fat lip)

MOVIE: Similarly to Gojo, I think she also likes comedies. Bottoms is a recent fav of hers

TV SHOW: House MD is her #1 by far!!! She also likes sitcoms like Arrested Development and It’s Always Sunny

FOOD: According to Gege her favorite food is alcohol but that is NAWT a food. I feel like she would enjoy bar foods like wings and fries

Choso Kamo

COLOR: Red

ARTIST/BAND: Anything gothic (Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division, The Cure, etc.)

SONG: Disorder - Joy Division; Precious - Depeche Mode

MOVIE: He LOVES movies—a wide variety of genres. He went years without consuming any form of media, so watching movies is something really special to him. Some notable favs of his include Spirited Away, Scream, and Planet Earth (like I said, a wide variety of genres lol)

TV SHOW: He mainly watches anime (mostly seinen). He’s a big Vinland Saga fan

FOOD: He isn’t picky when it comes to his tastes, but he prefers to try and eat healthy most of the time. He feels lucky to be in a human body so he treats it like a temple

Takuma Ino

COLOR: Black

ARTIST/BAND: He mostly listens to rap/r&b artists. Big Kendrick fan (he said fuck Drake), The Notorious B.I.G., Nelly, etc.

SONG: Big Poppa - The Notorious B.I.G.; Gin and Juice - Snoop Dogg; King Kunta - Kendrick Lamar

MOVIE: Unironically the Spongebob movie and Ratatouille; in his mind they’re peak (and he’s right)

TV SHOW: This man loves cartoons. Spongebob, Futurama, Scooby Doo, Bob’s Burgers, etc etc

FOOD: He’ll eat literally anything, but spicy foods are his fav. He adds chili flakes to every fkn thing

Toji Fushiguro

COLOR: He doesn’t gaf. Gray maybe

ARTIST/BAND: He claims he “doesn’t like music” (wtf). If anything, he’ll listen to dad rock like Bruce Springsteen and shit

SONG: Fortunate Son - Creedence Clearwater Revival

MOVIE: Unfortunately he’s SUCH a man. His favorite movies all have to do with either fighting, sports, or war. Rocky is a top pick of his; trust and believe he’ll be quoting it at you

TV SHOW: Vikings, Game of Thrones, and anything in a similar vein

FOOD: The man loves meat what can I say. A rotisserie chicken hates to see him coming

Yuki Tsukumo

COLOR: Gold

ARTIST/BAND: Anyone who makes her feel like the bad bitch she is. Megan Thee Stallion, Flo Milli, and especially Beyonce

SONG: Conceited - Flo Milli; Needed Me - Rihanna

MOVIE: She also has a wide variety of tastes when it comes to movies, but she prefers when there’s some action. Fast and Furious, Jennifer’s Body, and Kill Bill are her favs

TV SHOW: Anything dramatic!!! The Bear, Succession, and Squid Game to name a few

FOOD: She loves fresh fruit, especially peaches and mangoes