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jujutsu kaisen , bungo stray dogs , haikyu , hunter x hunter , kimetsu no yaiba , genshin impact , jibaku shonen hanako-kun , love and deepspace , multi , build a boyfriend ❄︎ wkbsrco on Ao3
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⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ּ would you freeze me, knowing I’d be yours forever—or would you let me live freely, knowing our time together will cease with neither of us knowing when it would be?
I swear I’ll post bestfriend!fratjo tomorrow… here’s an excerpt in the mean time! interact with this post to be added to the taglist (currently at around 9k wc)
You look up at his face, he's flushed, intoxicated by whatever he drank. "Are you okay, 'Toru?" you tell him so sweetly. Your tone has him almost moaning from how sickening it is to hear.
"Yeah, pretty, I just need ta taste ya right now, okay?
“Can I?" he slightly slurs. You're a little less drunk than you were earlier, so you can properly understand what's going on. Though, you're unsure whether saying yes right now would be wise. But really, when have you ever been wise with Satoru Gojo?
"Okay," you breathe out gently, and he smirks.
His lips immediately latch onto your own. God, you taste just like that concoction Suguru came up with.
It's uncanny. He laps you up like a man who almost died of thirst. "Satoru!" you giggle in between shameless kisses.
You wrap your arms around his head, hoping to keep him still. By the way he's moving, you're sure your lips are going to be chafed.
i was training a young person at work, and she referred to sexual assault as "SA" out loud, and i immediately was like, "no, it's sexual assault, call it what it is," bc idgaf if the algorithm overlords have taught y'all that you should fear direct language, how tf do any of you expect to ever address real issues with any amount of seriousness if you can't even say the words? imagine an advocate looking a sexual assault survivor in the eyes and asking "did he grape you?" it's absolutely fucking absurd, but these young interns and new hires are coming into an environment where we deal with survivors of all different kinds of abuse, and they're coming with the mindset that the words are as bad as the actions, and that makes them shitty at the job and look juvenile af
i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience
say the fucking words, guys. just say the goddamn words before i go insane!!!
your situationship, plug!choso, really hates himself for liking someone such a good girl. the rooms he spends hours of his days in are surely not the place for a dignified woman of your caliber. you’re prim, proper, sweet, and kind. all he is is mildly the latter.
he’s been good at keeping the whole business under wraps though. you don’t suspect a thing. maybe he should be upset that you aren’t more observant at the ripe old age of twenty, but he doesn’t really give a fuck since it’s working in his favor. the brunette just wants you all for himself, is that too much to ask?
unfortunately for him, things start to take a turn for the worse when you started getting close to president!gojo. your stoner boy(friend) literally had to blackmail him. “sat, I swear to god, if you don’t leave her alone, I’ll stop being a direct plug to jujutsu phi,” he told the white-haired hunk seemingly out of the blue.
“woah, woah, what the fuck, cho’! ya can’t just spring that on a guy… where the hell is this coming from?”
“y/n literally just sent me a text saying, ‘can’t tonight, satoru said he’ll show me his new car’ BRO CODE, MAN!” choso shakes satoru to drive his point home.
“I wasn’t going to fuck her,” he waves his hands with a lazy grin on his pale face.
“yeah, right. I know you. you’ll fuck any pretty face.”
“wow, are ya calling me a whore?”
“yes, I am.”
“that’s cold, cho’.” then he shrugs and says, “so what do you want me to do? cancel on her?”
“no, then she’ll be sad. just go with her and tell her how much a of a great guy I am.” satoru facepalms at that. “fine,” he groans out dramatically.
and that’s exactly what satoru did during the entire drive. it irked you a bit, so you decided to tell choso, who was more than delighted upon finding out how much of an “obsessed weirdo” you think satoru is.
“honestly, we didn’t even fuck, so it was pretty boring!” you whine to the large man as you’re braiding his hair, telling him all about your disappointing “date” with satoru. “I thought he was going to be cool, but ‘guess not,” you sigh.
“let me show you one then,” he says.
“huh?” is all you could say before you’re pinned down to the his bed that smells oddly of smoke and other substances—weird but this id a frat house after all.
🗒️: an apology fic for not being able to post bestfriend!fratjo tonight
I may have word count blindness because tell me why I thought I’ve only written 500 words when in actuality, I’m at 2.7k … bestfriend!fratjo will be a hella long fic ++ chapter 2 of my bsd x jjk crossover is coming out next week on ao3 & tumblr ! though, I will be fixing it up a bit, so it’s more of chapter 1 & 2 ;)
hello, lovelies! unfortunately, I will not be able to post bestfriend!fratjo tonight due to our wifi being down, and I don’t want to trust my mobile data with editing and uploading my work… still happy birthday @jaycee374 ! I’ll post the fic around tomorrow, in the afternoon. I rewrote the story a bit—a little more angsty, lengthy, and smutty, lol. thoughhh, it still follows the plot, just adds more drama! comment to be part of the gojo taglist ^^
pro athlete oikawa but you both meet in argentina. you as a tourist, and him as the guy who just gave up his japanese citizenship.
you’re hinata’s friend that’s visiting argentina for a week. before you left for your business trip slash vacation, he told you about his other friend, who moved there—toru oikawa, pro volleyball player for club athletico san juan. “you should meet him, y/n! he wasn’t all that nice in high school, but he’s totally a good guy now!” he exclaimed.
“shoyo, if this is another one of your plots to set me up with someone, I’m not interested. especially if it’s going to be long distance,” you told your tangerine-locked best friend. “c’mon, y/n! give my matchmaking skills a chance! maybe atsumu-kun was a bust, but I promise oikawa-san is totally your type!” you sighed at his insistent response, but you just couldn’t say no.
so here you are, at a random coffee shop in argentina, two days into your trip, waiting for an ashy-haired brunette to step in. much to your delight, he arrives on time with flowers on hand. though, he seems like he ran a marathon just to get here.
you stand up politely, offering him your hand to shake as he pants. “y/n l/n,” you speak too formally. like a switch turning in his noggin, the air around him makes a complete flip.
he now stands tall in front of you, handing you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, which you’re sure he knows from hinata. “toru oikawa,” he replies, taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the back of your palm. he feels like he’s malfunctioning. you’re prettier than the low resolution high school photos of you hinata showed him.
the both of you sit down—almost simultaneously. “‘m sorry shoyo dragged you into this…” you speak sheepishly, far from the somewhat authoritative aura you exuded upon first meeting.
he chuckles in response. “it’s no trouble, really. I like taking pretty girls out,” he replies, tongue as smooth as silk. hm, maybe he is your type. though, you can sure you can knock his armor down. “so there are other girls?” you ask with faux disappointment evident in your tone.
“why? are you jealous already?” he teases. at least the vibe matches his face, no? “when chibi-chan said you were particular, I didn’t think he meant possessive!”
you roll your eyes playfully. “sharing is for losers, what can I say?” you shrug. “and I’m nothing if not a winner.”
oikawa smiles. a pretty girl with confidence and enough wit to last him a lifetime? sign him up ten times over! well, it’s a good thing atsumu fumbled because now, he has you all to himself. who need bottle blond when you can have him?
your boyfriend hates boy best friend satoru! he says you’re too close and that best friends don’t “kiss like that” or “touch like that,” but satoru, your ever-so-loving boy(friend) always reassures you, telling you that your boyfriend is nothing but a liar who’s trying to take you away from your truest and greatest love—him.
“he’s weird, baby,” your boyfriend says seemingly out of the blue. you’re both in your room right now, literally just chilling and having a great time—well, great for him until you mentioned satoru. you muttered something about having a sleepover with satoru next friday, and now, your boyfriend, who’s usually a huge sweetheart, is about to go on a ballistic rant rampage.
“satoru? weird? in what way?” you decide to take the bait and chomp down whatever wound he’s about to flesh out. the boy now stands in your room like he’s about to give his final presentation of the academic year. it’s laughable, really. “you’re a great girl, y/n. you really are. but… I can’t help but feel irked by your relationship with gojo.”
“could you tell me why,” you reply calmly and your boyfriend nods, taking a deep breath as he’s about to speak. “okay, okay,” he starts. “I think it’s weird that he’s always over, doesn’t even knock on your door—he’s just… just there! what if he walks in on you changing, right?” then let him look, duh. you think to yourself. he moves his hands freely as if signaling just how crazy your tolerance of the white-haired “creep” is.
“and the way he always kisses you, hugs you, and touches you! I’m your boyfriend, and yet I don’t do that in front of your parents, but he does… it’s weird because, why am I not allowed to do that, but he is? right?” he looks at you, desperate for confirmation—wanting you go agree with him for once.
side with the resistance. please.
but you don’t. and your boyfriend knows you don’t. he just watches as you nod. “really? that’s all you’re going to give me?” he says with a face full of crushed hope.
“what do you want me to say?” you raise an eyebrow at the poor guy, who’s just vying to be the one to capture your attention. god, he doesn’t even understand how you’ve gotten him so hooked on your entire existence.
“side with me. tell me you hate satoru. tell me he forces those kisses and hugs on you. tell me he makes you uncomfortable.” then I’ll beat him up with a smirk on my face all for you.
“I don’t lie,” you deadpan, and his heart shatters.
finally, he sits on your bed then sighs, chest aching like never before. “shit, I should’ve listened to toji…”
“what?” you ask, confused. toji? toji zenin? how random. “when I told him I liked you, he made a passing joke about how you whored yourself out for satoru.”
“so you think I’m a whore?” your expression turns deathly serious. satoru would never call you a whore. maybe in bed but that’s different.
your boyfriend rolls his eyes. “yeah? you probably slept with satoru, based on how much you defend him. he pay you with sex?”
you hum with a smile that says “how ludicrous.” then, his attitude flips again. “wait—you did… didn’t you?” he clarifies, his insecurities once again taking over. though, to be fair, you are aware that you may have triggered it. scratch that, you definitely did.
“if you count rounds, a couple of times. if not, just thrice, every birthday since I turned sixteen!” you chirp as if you weren’t metaphorically punching him in the gut right now. “you’re crazy… you’re both crazy,” he says in return, taking a step back with considerable trepidation.
“god, for all I know, he’s in the fucking closet stalking us right now, and you know!” he all but screams. then, he grabs his stuff and heads for your door. “we’re over!”
you tell satoru the moment your boyfriend—well, ex, left in tears. dialing his number, you look over his picture on the poster. you and him during a halloween party wearing a cheesy couple’s costume. you and him were only twelve then. then, the line connects. “come over, ‘toru… ‘m sad…” you pout, knowing your expression transcends the supposed phone call. “my boyfriend broke up with me,” you add.
he chuckles, knowing exactly the look written on your pretty face. “okay, princess, I will. just a few more reps, okay? what snacks do you want? we can munch while you rant about your crazy ex, ‘kay?”
“mhm, okay. spicy chips please and thank you, satoo!” you giggle. “okay, baby. I’ll get there in less than an hour. is auntie and uncle home?” he asks, referring to your parents.
“no, they flew to the states earlier, they said they had some business to attend to in chicago then new york,” you shrug while picking at the loose thread of your comforter. “hm, okay. I’ll sleepover then, yeah?” he suggests so casually.
“but what if they get mad this time?” I ask nervously.
he laughs like your whole dilemma was pointless. “bunny, when have they ever gotten mad about that? they love it when we spend time with each other.” then, he adds “y’know what I think?”
“what?”
“they probably arranged us with each other as kids, our moms intentionally got pregnant in the same year after all…” he whispers low against his cell’s microphone. you laugh in response. “whatever, ‘toru, just finish your sets.”
“reps, baby,” he corrects. “love ya, angel, see you later.”
for a second, you pause. is it perhaps hesitation or maybe the fleeting feeling of uneasiness about something you’re unsure about? fuck, you don’t even understand what you’re thinking of right now.
you just say it anyway “I love you too…” you say it because that’s how it’s meant to be. you’ve always loved him and he’s always loved you, so why do you still try to look for whatever love it is that you want from others?
he can provide you with as much of anything as you want a hundred times over!
you lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling. then, you sigh. maybe your ex is right. what if you are weird. what if this relationship with satoru is far from normal no matter how much your family and his tries to normalize it. though, a part of you thinks. does it matter? you like satoru and you believe he likes you, so why not, right?
“No more truth or dare,” you whine, and a defeated hiccup follows. The white-haired boy in front of you snickers at the expression written on your flushed face.
“Aww, why? Are you embarrassed because we keep daring you to undress—all the while asking you lewd questions?” Satoru spoke as he moved closer, gently scratching your nose as if petting a cute little bunny.
He was so close. Even Suguru is, keeping you on his lap even when he can barely comprehend what’s happening. You’re all too close for a couple of stupid teenagers who claim they’re all just friends.
The acrid odor of the fruity homemade cocktail on Satoru’s lips shoots through your nose as he traps you and his raven-haired friend on the couch. His body falls on yours with a soft thud, bones hitting lightly. “Too heavy…” you speak sheepishly.
All while this happens, Suguru just holds you close, too sleepy to take action. His grip is tight, but it’s not enough to suffocate you. It’s comforting—warm, just like your dear old Suguru.
His head rests on your shoulder as his long dark mane falls upon your back and his face. The tips of his hair kind of tickle as it brushes over your exposed skin, but you stifle a laugh as reacting will confuse your dumbed brain further. The alcohol’s effects are too strong, and the two men around you are too—much.
You try to push Satoru off, but it’s less of a rejection and more of just an instinctive reaction to your senses being wildly overwhelmed. Their musk, mixed with alcohol and the blood and sweat that comes with being special grade sorcerers.
As you’re preoccupied with your thoughts, Suguru stats to plant slow and sweet kisses on the side of your neck. His lips were warm as it makes a path toward your jaw. “Sugu’..?” you question since he’s usually more tame with you—the gentler of the two men. Your amethyst-eyed best friend only hums in response.
“How ‘bout we play another game?” Satoru suggests with a smug smirk planted on his face. He’s clearly up to no good. “Kiss, marry, kill, okay, baby? That’s easy enough for your cute drunk self, no?”
You nod in response, a bit strained from his weight still being on you and Suguru.
Finally, he lifts himself up with his hands, and you take a deep breath. He laughs. “Are you mocking my weight, princess?”
“What? No!” you try and defend yourself, which he blatantly ignores. He just wants to tease you! Why take it so seriously (he loves when you do)?
He points at your lips. “Kiss,” then your chest, “marry” then right at your cunny, “kill?”
Before he could tell you the options you giggle. God, he finds you so cute. “Why is kill over there?” you quiz.
Satoru chuckles. Not menacing. Not malicious. Just Satoru being Satoru—cheeky, slightly annoying, but yours. “Because your cute little cunt is so perfect that it could kill, no?” he says as a matter of fact.
You flush at his inanely perverse words.
Then, he brings his hands together. Clap! “So, let’s get on with it. Your options are…” He pretends to think deeply. “Suguru, Naoya, orrrr … hm, who could it be?”
He keeps the suspense going for a second too long. It’s not until you pout so cutely that he reveals the last man on your imaginative roster. “Orrrrrrrrrr—me!?”
“Seriously? That’s kind of unfair to Nao-shit!” you mock your bottle blond ex.
“No, it’s perfectly random, baby,” he replies.
Suguru holds you tighter against him as your body shifts. Your ass wiggles over his crotch every time you speak, laugh, or literally do anything in response to Satoru’s stupid sentences.
“Shh, don’t move too much,” Suguru whispers softly in your ear. The warmth of his breath brings life to the warmth that’s been pooling in your stomach since early into the night.
“Sorry, Sugu’,” you apologize, m voice becoming significantly more high pitched like it always was with him. Satoru always teases you for it too!
You couldn’t control wanting to seem cuter around Suguru. He’s just—well, Suguru. Sweet, brooding, and oh so cool! The type of guy everyone wants to be with or be.
“‘Sorry, Sugu’,’” Satoru repeats mockingly, dramatically pitching his voice up. You glare at him in return.
“Feisty, doll.” He snickers as he pinches your cheek. “So then, answer the question.”
You pause for a moment, thinking it over. It was no secret that your sorry excuse for an ex, Nao-shit, would be in kill though.
“Kiss, you. Marry, Suguru. Kill, Naoya,” you answer.
“Marry Suguru?? Why, baby?!” He sulks like a three-year-old toddler not getting what he wants. “I’m taller, prettier, stronger, and richer! The best option there is!”
“But Sugu’ is nicer…” you murmur.
“Nicer? You want nice?”
“Mhm, I’m going to marry a nice guy!” You smile sweetly as you speak—as if announcing to the whole world that you’re engaged to one of the only special grade curse users.
“You’re going to marry me…” Suguru mutters against your skin.
Satoru pouts and pokes your stomach instead. “Guess I’ll have to settle with a fuck then, no?”
“A fuck…?”
“Yeah, fuck, marry, kill,” he restates. “Just like I said earlier. Weren’t you listening, pretty? That makes your dear best friend a little sad…” Satoru exaggerates a frown.
“You said kiss, marry, kill!” you retort.
“Mm, shhh, baby.” He puts his index finger over your plump lips to hush your running mouth. “You’re just too drunk to remember properly.”
In one swift motion, he steals you from the barely-holding-on Suguru and carries you to his room. “How about Sugu’…?” you squeak. “Why? Do you want him to watch you get ruined?”
You make a weak sound in response to his mocking.
“Oh? You like that, huh?” he smirks. “I’ll pull him in after I tie you up.”
And… that’s all she wrote. You can barely remember anything. Though, waking up next to your two closest friends, shirtless with their hair and yours disheveled, makes connecting the dots a whole lot easier.
You cover your face with your hands, feeling a certain tint of red wash over your entire body in embarrassment. “What the fuck did we do…?” you ask yourself in shame and a sprinkle of arousal.
🗒️: I fixed up my old fic on @wkbsrco , send me asks (please!) if y’all liked this :)
gordon ramsay husband!sukuna (before you have kids) but he’s absolutely insufferable when you’re the vip in cursed kitchen. he’s been yelling nonstop at the blue team ever since they served you raw meat—your favorite cut nonetheless.
“gojo, if you don’t get your shit together, I’ll rip your apron off myself!” he yells at the poor white-haired boy. “yes, chef!” is all the younger man replies with.
then, he goes over to the red team who absolutely botched your dessert. “I said make her mango sticky rice, not serve her cum!” your husband scowls, pinching his temple in pure frustration. “kamo! it looks like you fuckin’ jacked off on this!” he sighs.
“stop! stop!” he shouts, lifting both of his large arms up. the sleeves of his white chef’s jacket rolls down to his elbows, revealing his tattooed wrists. god, this pink-haired brute surely is delectable… even more so now that he’s fuming. “does everyone have a stick up their ass tonight?!” he says towards the kitchen.
the restaurant stills. no one dares to breath or go near sukuna. the whirring of the blenders fade out, and the flames are put out from under each pot and pan. “you’re here to cook, not sit on your ass and look pretty! my wife’s here for fuck’s sake!”
then, in the corner of his ruby eyes, he sees a certain brunette, about to slip out the tense room. “ieiri, if you take another step, I’ll throw you out with gojo,” he threatens. in response, she sighs and goes back to her station.
“anyone else wanna act like shitheads?” he glares while crossing his beefy arms—one forearm over the other to really accentuate his large features.
“no, chef!” nanami was first to yell.
“what was that?!” sukuna almost screams. “no, chef!” everyone says in unison. “good, get to cookin’!”
after the whole kerfuffle, he walks on over to your table, near the blue kitchen. “how was your meal?” he asks with a smile—it looks weird on his face, like it’s not supposed to be there, so you laugh in response. “it was good,” you say. “though, it’d be better if the head chef wasn’t yelling so much.”
he sits beside you and the cushion dips under his weight. “well, sweetheart, the head chef needs to yell at the incompetent fools that dare enter.”
you roll your eyes. “y’know, if we ever have kids, you can never yell at them, okay?”
“where’s that coming from?” he stifles a boarish laugh.
you shrug. “just thought of it,” you reply. “I don’t want our kids to think their father is an unforgiving man when he’s actually just strong.”
his cheeks turn a little pink at your sweet words. “okay,” he says and you smile, giving his cheekbone a little peck for agreeing. he turns away for a moment, hoping the cameras don’t capture the moment. unfortunately for him, they do.
🗒️: how many more until this becomes gordon ramsay x reader fics?
more gordon ramsay husband!sukuna - repost from @wkbsrco
