Painting After A Long Time

☆ 18+ meddle about | hobie brown

✩ summary: he just loves everything about you, but he especially loves your thighs. ✮ word count: 1.2k ⚠︎ warning(s): 18+, unprotected, semi-public, fem!reader he <3s thick thighs argue with the wall also he def didn't pay for the pants either... ✧ be sure to check out my work on ao3 ⇢ gravesforgirls !!

It was nothing short of an infatuation. He couldn't help it. They were just so pretty and soft and perfect, and he was only so strong.

He absolutely loves when he can just lay his head in your lap and nearly fall asleep as you gently rake your fingers up and down his bare back, big hand palming at your thigh akin to a cat kneading a blanket, squeezing and massaging the soft plane of skin with his rough fingertips. He presses kisses into them, mumbling utter nonsense as he lays there, and he nibbles gentle marks into the inner parts of your thighs. It doesn't even have to be risqué, though he doesn't mind if it happens to end in you pinned beneath him, he just likes being nestled between them, soft skin pressing against his cheeks as he lays there, lazily kissing at the warm skin.

That said, he loves seeing you in tight pants, or mini skirts, or anything that really accentuates your thighs. Especially super skinny leather pants. The way the fabric hugs every curve so perfectly, not to mention so vividly, has him near drooling. He can't keep his hands off you when you step out of the small fitting room stall, eyeing you up and down.

"Give me a twirl. Gotta make sure it fits right."

You know what he's doing, and you roll your eyes with a small swat to his chest as he grins, but you spin anyway, biting back a laugh when you catch the way he stares.

"Look good?"

"Fuckin' peng. C'mere."

Before you can really even step closer,  he's already wrapping his lean arms around your waist, kissing you with a sudden fierceness that has you letting out an embarrassing noise when he presses you against the door, big hands sliding from your waist to grab at your ass, the shiny leather material squealing under the friction of his hands. You press a hand to his chest, a weak attempt at getting him to slow down.

"Not here, Hobie."

He grumbles against your lips, lifting a hand to push open the door and walking you back into the stall, reaching behind him to twist the lock, still latched onto you.

"Can't wait anymore. You been getting me all worked up since that first dress you tried. Lucky I held out for that long."

Your hands snake around his neck to keep him close, clutching at his vest when he lifts you against the thin wall, pressing against you to keep you upright. "Didn't realize you liked 'em that much." Your legs clamp around his hips to give you that little more stability.

He nods, lips leaving yours to eagerly trail down your throat. "These ones sent me over the edge. You look fuckin' amazing." One of his hands slips between you to toy with the button of the pants for a second before he's popping it open, tugging down the zipper and shoving the tight garment down your thighs, ogling a bit at the way the fabric constricts around the plump swell. 

He doesn't even bother to pull them down any further, too busy clambering to undo his ridiculous amount of studded belts to care about ridding you of it completely. He's rocking against you with a desperation that has you slinking a hand down between your thighs to press your fingertips against your barely concealed clit, heels digging into the back of his pelvic bone as he undoes his skinny jeans.

"So pretty." His hand nudges at your own to push you away, replacing your fingers with his own, and you hum when he pushes aside your panties to touch you properly. "Already so wet for me, babe. Bet you can't wait for me to fill you up, innit." His long fingers press against your warm walls, calloused thumb circling your clit.

You whine with a small nod, rolling your hips into his hand as best you can, what with the minimal stability you have at the moment. He's watching the way your thighs squeeze around his hand, movement extremely limited by the tight leather still clutching at your legs, pulled taut with the way your ankles lock behind his back. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet, back arching off the wall when he curls his fingers, and you don't even have to look at him to know he has that shit-eating grin painted on his lips, warm breath fanning across your ear as he leans closer to drop kisses across your jaw bone.

"Gonna fuck these pretty thighs. Gonna come all over 'em." His words trail off into unintelligible groans, and you shake your head gently.

"Want you to fuck me. Please. S'all I want."

The slight break in your quiet voice has him sputtering, hand faltering against you as he registers your plea, huffing quietly. Who is he to decline your request when you've asked so nicely?

"Sure. Yeah, okay." He gives in almost immediately as he presses his warm forehead to your shoulder, one hand leaving you to push down the hem of his briefs, breath shuddering whenever the head of his cock presses against your slick folds.

You spit into his palm when he holds it up to your face, and he tugs at his –now painfully hard– cock a few times before he's stretching you open, stuffing his face into your neck to press hot kisses into your already searing skin, groaning against your throat when your walls close around him.

He's thumbing over your sensitive clit, rocking into you all the while muttering mindless praise into your ear, and your nails dig into the leather of his vest as you slowly tip over the edge, muffling your noises in his neck. He continues to mumble any and every compliment he can think of as you come down, and you nearly whimper when he's pulling out of you, lifting your knees from around his slim waist to clamp your legs together against your chest, the tip of his cock sinking into the tight crease where your thighs meet. He's so desperate now, accent so thick you can barely make out anything he's saying as he fucks up into the cramped space, and you can tell he's close whenever his hips stutter, sloppy as he tries to stay composed.

He paints your bare thighs in thick white stripes, watching the way it drips down as he slowly lowers your feet to the floor, and you hum when he leans closer to press kisses to your sticky skin.

"What am I supposed to do about this?" You gesture to the mess on your legs, and he follows your gaze, pouting a bit.

Before you can scold him though, he throws off his vest, tugging his tattered shirt over his head and leaning down to wipe you clean. You cringe at the action, scrunching your face as he grins.

"That's so gross."

"I'll toss it. I've loads more tops in far better condition."

You try to convince yourself the employees aren't staring at the two of you as you rush out of the store, only swiping at him once you're out of sight from the business, as if he was at any more fault than you were. You did allow him to fuck you senseless in the fitting room, after all. Who's keeping track, anyways?

He did in fact get you those leather pants while you were getting dressed. 

MIGUEL

sam monroe x female reader hcs

some mentions of sex, drugs, alcohol, prostitution + angst and fluff

sam monroe would glare at you as you looked at him from across the room, trying to scare you away.

sam monroe would eventually become friends with you after you practically forced yourself into the poor boys life.

sam monroe was very confused that a girl—especially one like you—would ever want to be friends (or more) with him of all people, i mean, he’s goth, and he isn’t nessicarily masculine. little did he know, you adore his eyeliner, his piercings, and his clothing

sam monroe quickly became infatuated with you, obsessed with the time you would spend with him, even if it was a quick conversation about how your best friend fucked the popular jock.

sam monroe struggles with drugs— and you weren’t aware of this until a few months into your friendship with him, you immediately tried helping him, but he pushed you away.

sam monroe invited you to his house one day after school. as soon as you two were in his room alone together, something clicked inside of you two, and sam immediately clinged himself onto you and it ended up in some..intimate activities.

sam monroe opened up to you a bit more after he found out his father has cancer, and he stayed at your house for a bit, and refused to leave your bed for a week. eventually you got him out of bed with a promise that you would let him fuck you in the shower. that horny fuck.

sam monroe was convinced by josh to try prostitution for one night— in order to get drug money. you were shocked when he came running to your house in tears, babbling about how “he made a huge mistake” and that “he promises he’ll never do it again.” it ruined his self esteem a lot, and once you found out what really happened, you made sure he never took any drug again.

sam monroe and you had a awkward friends-but-still-knew-you-both-liked-eachother phase. it consisted of you and him never outright saying you were dating, but you both knew what was what.

(sam monroe did convince you to let him still smoke weed, though)

sam monroe has a big dick.

sam monroe loves deftones and muse

sam monroe let’s you boss him around and yell at him, (even in bed)

sam monroe hates parties— he hates getting drunk, mainly because of the hangover. he surprisingly hates the loud music, the bright lights, and the many amounts of people. he would much rather have a quiet night watching star wars with you.

sam monroe loves to cuddle you, nuzzling your chest and biting you playfully

sam monroe loves when you show him off. sam loves when you attach your mouth to his neck and use his skin as a canvas for your art.

sam monroe loves doing his makeup with you. even though he only wears eyeliner, he still finds it enjoyable.

sam monroe loves blowing smoke into your mouth

How about G. For Ominis. Maybe a fluffy/smutty blurb?

Some fluff 💕 some spice 🌶️ (18+ All characters of legal age)

G: “Good girl.”

I got… carried away with this one 😅

- - -

The first time he said it you were trying not to cry.

You were only kids, your family and the Gaunts long family friends. Ominis was almost exactly 2 years older than you and was leaving for the first time to go to Hogwarts.

“What will I do without you?” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill at any moment. The older boy hugged you, one hand patting your back comfortingly.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begged, “I can’t bear to hear it.”

“I’ll be all alone…” You sniffled again, your voice cracking.

“I’ll come back every holiday. I’ll even try to come see you on some weekends if they let me,” he comforted you. “It’s only for two years and then you’ll be right there at Hogwarts with me. You have to be brave.”

That thought did help. You pulled away from your best fried to wipe your nose on the sleeve on your dress.

“Can you be brave for two years?” He asked.

“Yes,” you sighed. Ominis smiled and ruffled your hair playfully.

“Good girl.”

- - - -

The second time he said it, he was teaching you to cast a spell.

You were older now, he being in his 3rd year and you in your 1st, but the two of you had never grown apart. In fact, as the years passed, you’d only gotten closer.

Ominis’s hand held yours gently, guiding your wand in the correct motion.

“That’s it,” he guided, “make a triangle in the air and then drag it out to the right.” You followed his directions several times, practicing the motion until it was just right. “Perfect,” he removed his hand and pushed you forward a little, toward the practice dummy. “Now cast the spell.”

“Ominis, I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off and tried in vain to back away. Ominis stoped you, nudging you back to your previous position.

“Yes you are,” he cut you off. “Don’t think too much about it just do it.”

You took a deep breath, planting your feet more firmly before you raised your wand. You rehearsed the movement one more time before actually attempting to cast the spell.

“Bombarda,” you spoke clearly and squealed when balls of flame shot out of your wand and directly at the dummy.

“I did it!” You cheered wrapping your arms your best friends neck. He laughed with joy at your success and it always made him happiest when you were happy.

“Good girl.” He cheered, “I knew you could do it.”

- - - -

The third time he said it, he was covered in blood.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” you chided him, urging him to tilt his head backward. “Hold this here,” you brought his hand up to the handkerchief pressed to his nose. He obeyed, hissing as he added pressure.

“He deserved everything he got and worse,” he said, nasally. You sighed, digging through your bag for the small green bottle of wiggenweld. “Bastard.”

“Hush,” you popped the cork out of the bottle and placed it in his free hand. “Drink this.” He removed the handkerchief, warm blood still gushing from his obviously broken nose. He downed the potion in one gulp and the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

“Much better,” Ominis sighed in relief. “What kind of a no-talent wizard fights physically anyway? It’s barbaric.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” you said again.

“You shouldn’t have been in a place like the Hog’s Head,” he challenged. “Those kinds of men are always in there. Who knows what he would have done to you. What we’re you doing there anyway?”

“I was just curious I guess,” you shrugged your shoulders. Ominis sat up on the bench and grabbed your wrists tightly in his hands.

“Don’t go back there anymore,” he ordered, “Promise me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good girl,” he sighed in relief.

- - - -

The fourth time he said it, you were on your knees.

“O-oh,” he huffed as you dragged a hand experimentally along his hard length. “That feels good. A little more pressure.”

You obeyed, moving your hand up and back down a few more times. You studied him carefully, the way his chest rose and fell with panted breath. His pants were bunched around his ankles and he head was thrown back in pleasure.

You loved looking at him like this.

“Do you wanna put it in your mouth?” His fingers carded through your hair gently.

“It won’t fit,” you giggled. He gasped when you circled your hand over the tip of him.

“You don’t have to take it all just- fuck - just the tip.”

You didn’t answer him, just poked your tongue out to lap experimentally at the head of his aching length. “A-ah, shit,” he groaned. You parted your lips and took as much of him in your mouth as you could, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat.

“Not so much,” he coaxed you back up a little so you were more comfortable. “There, just like that.” You circled your tongue around him and bobbed your head gently, enjoying the groans you were dragging out of him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “You’re such a good girl.”

That’s exactly what you were and what you always wanted to be.

Ominis Gaunt’s good girl.

gojo's the clingy kind of guy that just NEEDS to have some part of his body touching you.

fluff!!! all fluff!!!!!! supppper clingy gojo x reader, reader has their nails done sometimes, general blurb tbh (not rly a one shot or anything like that), lots of physical touching bc thats what clingy gojo needs,

it truly doesn't matter what, but as long as you two are actually physically connected, he's satisfied. it's obviously horrendous at home when he has unlimited access to you, whining about the most absurd way he needs to have physical contact with you. he likes napping on his stomach with you on top of him in whatever way you please, just wanting to feel your weight against him and have your hand carressing the back of his neck; he also likes sitting side by side at the dinner table so that he could eat with one of his legs just casually stretched out behind yours or even eating with one hand so he can have the other draped around your shoulder or your wasit; and he most definitely likes taking showers together, washing each other's backs and especially having you wash his hair (and of course having you blowdry it afterwards).

he's just a clingy guy because, well, he's lost too much and sometimes he can't be home. this is something you truly need to understand about him and see it as a vulnerability. all he needs is love and it gives him so much reassurance when you let him be as close as he needs.

and he always compromises in public. he knows how annoying extreme pda could be, and he never wants you to feel embarrassed. so he has his own little quirky ways of keeping in touch. when you both are at school and attending meetings, he's always seated beside you, manspreading like a whore but to make sure his knee touched yours. or he brings an arm behind your seat to gently fiddled with the collar of your uniform. sometimes, he's got his pinky linked with yours under the conference table or massging your hand while yaga yapayapayapas about whatever it is (you need to reexplain it all to gojo later).

at restaurants, when it's just the two of you, he opts to sit in front of you. this way he can stretch his legs out on either side of yours and keep you caged in, occasionally giving you a squeeze by bringing his legs together. sometimes he's even reaching for your hand over the table, letting his fingers fiddle with yours when you tell him about stuff he's missed since he was gone. whenever you two are out with friends, however, he always sits beside you and he's got a hand on your thigh. sometimes it's just resting on top of your thigh, sometimes he's holding you by the inner side of your thigh, sometimes he's got his hand across your lap to pull you closer by your thigh that's farthest from him. if not your thigh, sometimes his arm is behind your seat, or he has you sit up a little farther up so that he could rest a hand on your lower back (maybe even around your waist or on your hip). it's not unusual to also have a hand on his lap where he's got both of his own giving yours a massage. he's interlocking your fingers, giving you squeezes, kneading at the muscles on your palm. he's letting your nails gently glide across the length of his fingers down to his palm, and when you've got charms on them, he's gently tracing them with his thumb.

all in all, gojo's just a clingy guy whose love language juuuuust might be physical touch.

I'm begging for some HC of Ominis and Sebastian masturbating over the female player 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Like where they prefer to do it, how often, how much noise do they make, how much do they cum? Please describe them 😩

Ominis x f!reader; Sebsatian x f!reader

Warnings - 18+ smut content, all characters over the age of 18, masturbation

A/N - This really got to to me after all the Sebastian audio clips that have been floating around 😩

Ominis

- he prefers his privacy in the Undercroft, usually off in a dark part of it somewhere

- he always listens intently somewhat hoping you might stumble in and find him

- he fights his urges and only masurbates to completion in his favorite spot once a week

- other times he’ll mostly edge himself while showering, but he likes to build it up to make it better

- he doesn’t like it about himself, but he can be very noisy. He goes at a time when he knees Seb won’t walk in, if anyone does it’ll be you

- he makes gasps and groans as he thinks about your mouth, your fingers, your breasts

- with all sense but his eyes being so sensitive he just imagine the different textures and temperatures it would all of

- he picture soft breasts that give way to his cock, rough fingers wrapped him, a silky, hot mouth for him to fuck contrasted with your wet pussy clenched around him and feeling impossibly tight

- he loves thinking about you massaging his balls or his sensitive taint and teasing him about how much it makes him whimper

- he takes his time and it often means speeding up and slowing down to the point of his cock weeping, his own stick pre-cum all over his hand and probably his thighs or trousers too

- when he’s finally ready to let go he shouts quite loud, strangled moans of your name and curse words tumbling out of him

- he tries to contain his mess to his hand, but it all just oozes out because he’s usually got so much fun built up

- he’s messy, loud, and likes to maximize the orgasm to the fullest by trying to hold out until he’s so worked up he can’t take it

Sebastian

- his favorite spot is to get comfortable in his bed

- he uses a silencio charm after closing up all of the curtains

- he does it quite often, maybe almost daily with how desperate he is

- he’ll come back from having hang out with you and be ripping his tie off, pulling at all of his clothes because he can’t get naked fast enough

- he’s thinking about every flash of skin he’s seen from you, a day where you had a particular shirt skirt and you were all thighs

-a day your shirt was big and he got a glimpse at your shoulder, a broader peek at your chest

- Sebastian is really an ass man and heart and just thinks about how lovely it would be for you to be suffocating him with both of your holes just exposed to him

- he flushes but differently than Ominis in that it’s his whole body

- his freckles are peppered over his whole body and the fever from his arousal hair makes his face, neck, shoulders, chest, all of it red

- he’s desperately rutting into his own hand, spit included as he rushes towards the relief that he knows isn’t going to be enough

- he’s murmuring fuck over and over, maybe even little sentences he wish were real “fuck y/n ride me harder” “go faster” “be a good girl for me”

- when he finally cums his facial expression is everything and his whole body spasms, his mouth hanging up, him breathing heavily and tugging at his own sweaty hair

- he’s rougher with himself, he’s full of desperation 24/7 with how much he’s thinking about you, and he wants to take you right in his bed loving the idea of being naked around you when you’re not

La Vie en Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

jjk characters college au headcanons

characters: choso kamo, hiromi higuruma, kento nanami, mei mei, ryomen sukuna, satoru gojo, shoko ieiri, suguru geto, takuma ino, toji fushiguro, utahime iori, yuki tsukumo, and yu haibara

CHOSO KAMO

major: psychology

• choso is that mysterious upperclassman people whisper about but don’t really know. he’s always seen alone or with a very small circle, never making unnecessary conversation.

• some people are intimidated by his serious expression, but in reality, he’s just deep in thought most of the time. those who do get to know him realize he’s incredibly kind and protective.

• he’s the kind of student who takes his studies seriously, not because he cares about grades but because he values knowledge. he has an old-school approach to studying— handwritten notes, library research, and a preference for quiet over digital distractions.

• he has a small, quiet off-campus apartment that feels more like a sanctuary than a student’s place. it’s tidy, minimalist, and filled with sentimental objects, like old books, photos, or little things that remind him of his brothers.

• his fridge is always stocked with homemade meals, and he prefers cooking over eating out.

• he spends a lot of time in quiet places— bookstores, parks, or the campus greenhouse. he enjoys activities that keep him grounded, like painting, journaling, or practicing meditation.

• he also has a strong interest in martial arts and trains regularly, though he doesn’t brag about it.

• he’s not one for parties or big social gatherings, but if his closest friends ask, he’ll go— mostly to keep an eye on them.

• he’s the guy who stands off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing but ready to step in if needed. he doesn’t make small talk, but when he speaks, it’s always something insightful or meaningful.

• professors respect him because he’s a serious student, though they wish he participated more. he listens intently in class but rarely raises his hand.

• when he does speak, his answers are so well-thought-out that the entire class goes silent. some professors think he’s intimidating; others recognize that he’s just reserved.

• he has a deep, soothing voice that makes people listen when he speaks.

HIROMI HIGURUMA

major: political science/pre-law

• hiromi is well-respected but not overly social. he’s the guy people go to for advice— whether it’s about legal studies or just life in general.

• some students fear him because of his serious demeanor, but once you actually talk to him, he’s incredibly fair and thoughtful. he’s got that "tough but kind" vibe that makes people trust him immediately.

• he’s always at the top of his class, but not because he wants recognition— he just genuinely believes in what he’s studying. he’s the guy who finishes exams early but sits there, double-checking his answers while everyone else struggles.

• he has a neat, quiet off-campus apartment that looks surprisingly cozy. his space is filled with law books, neatly organized files, and just enough personal touches— probably a few framed photos, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and an expensive coffee maker.

• his place is never messy, but you can tell when he’s stressed because legal briefs start piling up on his desk

• when he’s not buried in legal cases, he enjoys classical music, fine whiskey, and quiet nights reading. he has a lowkey love for noir films and classic literature.

• he’s the type to stay up late working on a case brief but will still wake up at 6 am sharp the next morning.

• he has a habit of going to bars alone just to sit in a corner, sip his drink, and think about life. if he’s really stressed, he’ll take a long drive at night while listening to jazz or old rock.

• he’s not a party guy. you won’t find him at wild events, but if he does go, he’s the one quietly observing, sipping his drink, and making sharp but insightful comments about people’s behavior.

• he prefers small, intimate gatherings where discussions actually mean something. that said, if someone drags him to a party, he’ll tolerate it— but don’t expect him to dance or do anything ridiculous.

• professors adore him because he’s brilliant, respectful, and actually engages in meaningful discussions. he’s the student they trust to handle debates maturely and lead group discussions without turning them into chaos.

KENTO NANAMI

major: finance

• nanami is respected, not feared or idolized. everyone knows he’s insanely competent, but he doesn’t go out of his way to stand out.

• he’s the guy students ask for help with coursework, but he will not let you copy his work— he believes in earning your grades. professors trust him to lead group projects, and he’s the sole reason some people pass certain classes.

• he definitely tutors struggling students, but only if they’re serious about learning.

• he’s the type of student who has his entire academic career planned out to the letter. he takes meticulous notes, sits in the same spot every class, and actually reads the syllabus.

• his gpa is flawless, but it’s not because he enjoys studying— it’s just efficient to do well.

• he lives off-campus in a clean, well-organized apartment with modern furniture and precisely one personal touch— probably a nice coffee setup or a bookshelf stacked with actually good literature.

• his place is never messy, and he has a strict routine for cleaning. his fridge is full of actual food (no instant ramen here), and he cooks proper meals like a fully functional adult.

• nanami unwinds with quiet hobbies— reading or listening to jazz while drinking real coffee (not the burnt cafeteria sludge).

• he secretly enjoys baking but won’t admit it because it’s "not practical."

• he goes to the gym, but not for fun— just because it’s necessary. he also enjoys quality entertainment— classic films, well-written novels, and actual music, not the overplayed stuff on the radio.

• he’s not anti-social, but he does have a low tolerance for nonsense. he has a small, close-knit group of friends he actually trusts.

• he goes to parties maybe twice a year, and when he does, he immediately regrets it. he’s the guy standing in the corner with a drink, watching chaos unfold, and making scathing remarks under his breath.

• he refuses to drink cheap beer—if he’s drinking, it’s going to be good alcohol.

• professors adore him. he’s the student they wish all their other students were like. he submits assignments early, leads class discussions, and actually cares about learning.

• he’s probably the type to debate professors respectfully when he disagrees with something. if a professor is incompetent, though? he’ll silently judge them for eternity.

MEI MEI

major: business administration

• mei mei is famous on campus. she’s known for being gorgeous, brilliant, and ruthless when it comes to money.

• she never does anything for free— need tutoring? pay up. want a favor? what’s in it for her?

• she’s the type of student who doesn’t waste time with unnecessary coursework. she excels in every class but never overworks herself— she does the bare minimum required to get top grades and makes it look effortless.

• she’s the student who somehow always has the right answers but rarely ever looks like she’s paying attention.

• mei mei lives off-campus in a luxurious apartment that looks straight out of an interior design magazine. everything is sleek, modern, and expensive. she has zero clutter, an actual wine collection (despite still being in college), and a ridiculously comfortable bed.

• she’s never in a rush— her mornings are smooth and aesthetic, and she somehow always arrives places looking flawless.

• her entire mindset is "i have all the time in the world."

• she definitely has side hustles— investing in stocks, flipping designer items for profit, or even casually running a secret gambling ring on campus.

• she enjoys expensive hobbies like high-stakes poker, fine dining, and traveling for no reason. she also loves making money in the easiest way possible— if she can get paid for doing nothing, she will.

• mei mei is always invited to parties, but she only shows up if it benefits her. if she’s at an event, she’s chilling in vip, drinking top-shelf liquor, and watching other people make a mess of themselves.

• she doesn’t actively seek out friends, but people gravitate toward her. she prefers intelligent company— if you bore her, she’ll immediately lose interest.

• professors respect her, but she’s also deeply frustrating because she rarely puts in visible effort. she’s the student who negotiates grades, convinces professors to curve exams in her favor, and somehow always gets extensions without anyone questioning it.

• she never does emotional labor for free— if you’re venting to her, you owe her something later.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

major: history

• sukuna is infamous. everyone knows of him, but few actually know him. some fear him, some admire him, and some want him (even though they know it’s a bad idea).

• he’s the type of guy who walks into a room, and the entire atmosphere shifts. professors loathe him because he’s too smart for his own good, but they can’t technically fail him because he’s always right.

• he’s annoyingly brilliant— aces every class without trying, writes ruthless essays, and argues with professors just to prove them wrong. he rarely takes notes, yet he remembers everything, and if he ever does write something down, it’s probably just to mock the lecture.

• he could charm anyone if he tried, but he enjoys being feared instead.

• he has a sleek, expensive off-campus apartment that looks straight out of a luxury magazine— dark aesthetic, minimalist furniture, and not a single speck of dust. everything in his space is either expensive, dangerous, or both.

• his kitchen? barely used. his bedroom? looks like a villain’s lair. his couch? somehow the most comfortable thing you’ll ever sit on.

• he has expensive hobbies— high-stakes poker, fine whiskey tasting, maybe even fencing just to flex. he’s into classic literature but will never admit it.

• if he’s not reading, he’s either at the gym casually lifting twice his body weight or going on reckless, borderline illegal night drives.

• sukuna does not do small talk. if you’re not interesting, you don’t exist to him. he doesn’t have “friends” in the traditional sense— more like acquaintances he tolerates or people who amuse him.

• if he does like you, though, you’re protected— not because he’s sentimental, but because you’re his, and he doesn’t share.

• he never loses bets. if he does lose, he definitely cheated.

• every professor hates how effortlessly brilliant he is. he corrects them in lectures, ignores deadlines but still submits flawless work, and only participates in discussions to intellectually humiliate someone.

• some fear his presence in their class because they know he’ll challenge them.

• he always smells expensive— think deep, musky cologne with hints of spice.

SATORU GOJO

major: theoretical physics

• gojo is legendary. everyone knows him, whether because of his ridiculous antics, insane intelligence, or sheer charisma.

• he’s ridiculously smart but never takes class seriously. he’s the student who barely shows up, flirts with professors for fun, and still somehow gets top grades. his essays are either brilliant or completely off-topic because he got bored and started rambling.

• if he’s losing an argument, he’ll just switch to a completely different topic to confuse everyone.

• he has a high-end off-campus apartment because there’s no way he’s dealing with dorm life.

• his place is way too nice for a college student— minimalist but stylish, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a fully stocked fridge (except he mostly orders takeout). he has a collection of expensive sunglasses, and his bed is obnoxiously big for no reason.

• he has an obscene amount of money for a college student, but no one knows why or how.

• he spends his free time causing chaos— pulling pranks, sweet-talking his way out of trouble, and randomly deciding to start new hobbies just to master them effortlessly.

• he’s really into arcade games, expensive desserts, and photography (but he only takes dramatic, artsy pictures of himself and his friends). he’s also weirdly into conspiracy theories— not because he believes them, but because he finds them entertaining.

• he will absolutely buy expensive desserts for his friends "just because."

• gojo is everywhere. he’s at every party, every event, and somehow in every social circle. he’s the type to befriend both the most popular people on campus and the quietest nerd in the library.

• at parties, he’s either dancing on a table, starting a drinking contest, or dramatically announcing his presence like a celebrity. he never gets blackout drunk— he’s always the one causing the chaos, not suffering from it.

• he never waits in lines— he just charms his way to the front.

• professors despise how naturally gifted he is because he never takes anything seriously. he’s the type to argue with them for fun, correct their mistakes, or write an entire essay about how their syllabus is boring. some admire his intellect, while others just want him to shut up for five minutes.

SHOKO IEIRI

major: biology/pre-med

• shoko is the chill but scary smart girl. she’s laid-back, sarcastic, and gives off an effortlessly cool vibe. people know of her but don’t approach unless necessary because she looks perpetually exhausted.

• she’s the go-to person for medical advice— half the student body has probably asked her for help with random injuries or hangovers.

• she’s terrifyingly good at diagnosing people just by looking at them.

• she has a small off-campus apartment that’s mostly clean but has a permanent "organized chaos" vibe—half-empty coffee cups, scattered medical textbooks, and a pile of scrubs that she swears she’s going to fold.

• she has a cat that just showed up at her apartment one day, and now they’re roommates.

• she barely spends time at home since she’s always at the library, the lab, or sleeping in random places on campus.

• if she does have time off, she’s either smoking outside a coffee shop, watching true crime documentaries, or napping.

• she has a morbid sense of humor and enjoys dissecting medical cases like it’s light reading. she also has a soft spot for stray animals and will 100% stop to pet any cat she sees.

• if you text her with a medical question at 3 am, she will answer it correctly but also judge you.

• she barely goes to parties, but when she does, she’s the one holding a drink in one hand and tending to someone’s drunken injury with the other.

• she’s friends with gojo and geto by default but pretends to be exhausted by their antics (even though she secretly enjoys them). she’s the friend who texts "bring water" at 2 am and then disappears for a week.

• she gives the best advice but in the most unserious way possible.

• professors love her intelligence but wish she’d apply herself more. she’s the student who disappears for weeks, then shows up and gets the highest score on the exam.

• she has a reputation for being blunt— if a professor says something dumb, she will call them out, but only if she’s in the mood.

SUGURU GETO

major: theology

• geto is an enigmatic intellectual— the type of person who speaks once in class and leaves everyone rethinking their entire worldview. he’s well-respected but keeps his social circle small.

• some students are lowkey intimidated by him, while others admire his wisdom and composure. he has a quiet but undeniable presence wherever he goes.

• he writes insanely well and can turn in a last-minute paper that sounds like a published thesis.

• he has a minimalist off-campus apartment that’s almost too clean, with shelves full of philosophy books and a neatly arranged tea set. He keeps his space serene, like a personal sanctuary.

• everything is in its place, but there’s a stillness to his apartment that makes people feel like they shouldn’t disturb it.

• he enjoys reading, meditation, and really long walks where he just thinks. he’s deeply interested in different cultures, philosophies, and spiritual practices, and he will have a long discussion with anyone willing to engage.

• he prefers tea over coffee but will graciously accept a high-quality espresso.

• he also enjoys traditional tea ceremonies, calligraphy, and subtly flexing his knowledge of obscure topics.

• he’s not a party person, but he’ll go if the right people invite him. he prefers deep conversations over mindless socializing, so if he’s at an event, he’s in a quiet corner having a profound discussion while sipping tea or whiskey.

• he has a habit of standing on balconies and looking unnecessarily dramatic while lost in thought.

• professors admire his intellect but sometimes feel like he’s too insightful. he’s the student who challenges the class material in a way that makes everyone feel deeply uncomfortable. 

• some professors genuinely enjoy his perspective, while others don’t know how to handle his quiet, piercing observations.

• he gives the best advice, but only if he actually thinks you need it.

• he’s a silent but deadly presence in debates— he’ll let others argue, then quietly dismantle their entire point with a single sentence

TAKUMA INO

major: communications

• ino is the underdog everyone loves. he’s friendly, loud, and always trying his best— sometimes too hard. he’s the type of guy who gets involved in everything— sports, clubs, random student events— but never actually commits long-term.

• people like him because he’s genuinely a good guy and is always down to help out (even if he has no idea what he’s doing).

• he’s the guy who tries really hard in class but isn’t necessarily top-tier academically. he takes decent notes, studies at the last minute, and somehow manages to scrape by.

• he’s always determined to do better but gets easily distracted by literally anything more interesting than his textbooks.

• he has a notebook full of terrible pickup lines.

• he definitely shares an on-campus apartment with at least one roommate, and their place is chaotic but functional. there’s always a broken chair, a fridge full of leftover takeout, and a gaming console permanently hooked up to the tv.

• his room? messy but livable— random clothes everywhere, half-drunk energy drinks on his desk, but somehow he knows where everything is.

• he’s obsessed with the gym and probably does some kind of martial arts on the side. if he’s not training, he’s either gaming, watching action movies, or failing miserably at cooking.

• he tries to meal prep but always ends up just eating ramen instead. he also gets way too invested in fantasy football or any kind of competitive game.

• he genuinely believes that protein shakes and energy drinks count as "a real meal."

• ino is the guy you call when you need a last-minute wingman. he’s at every party, every game night, and somehow gets along with everyone. 

• he loves being around people, even if they tease him for being a bit of a himbo. he’s the type to hype up his friends, carry drunk people home, and absolutely lose his mind over karaoke.

• he gets way too competitive over dumb things, like rock-paper-scissors.

• professors like him because he participates and actually tries, even if he’s not the best student. he’s the guy who raises his hand to answer a question but gets it slightly wrong— but everyone appreciates the effort.

• some professors pity him because he clearly stresses over exams but never fully prepares.

• if he loses a bet, he fully commits to whatever embarrassing thing he has to do.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

major: business

• toji is that guy— half the school doesn’t believe he’s actually a student, and the other half wants to be him or be with him. he’s the shady upperclassman people whisper about, the guy who never shows up to class but somehow gets credit.

• professors hate him, but there’s nothing they can do because he technically meets the minimum requirements. some suspect he makes money through illegal means— which… they’re not wrong.

• he never studies, barely shows up to class, and still somehow passes— either through luck, bribery, or ridiculous test-taking skills.

• toji refuses to deal with dorm life. he either rents a cheap apartment or crashes with someone when he’s between places. his living space is minimalist by necessity— a mattress on the floor, a mini fridge stocked with beer and takeout, and one chair that’s definitely stolen from campus.

• he doesn’t need a fancy place— he spends most of his time anywhere but home.

• toji always has a hustle— gambling, underground fights, fixing things (for a price), or finding things people lost (also for a price).

• he has a gambling addiction but refuses to admit it.

• if he’s not working the system, he’s at the gym, betting on something shady, or sleeping (because this man is chronically exhausted from his questionable lifestyle).

• he doesn’t have "friends"— he has connections. people know him, people owe him, and people fear him. if he does let someone close, it’s because they’re useful or entertaining. 

• he doesn’t go to parties— he runs them. if he does show up, it’s purely to make money, cause trouble, or steal someone’s date.

• professors hate him. he’s smart enough to pass but lazy enough to frustrate every professor who knows he could do better. he never shows up to office hours, barely participates, and has probably gotten into multiple arguments with faculty members.

• the only reason they haven’t kicked him out is because they can’t prove he’s doing anything wrong.

UTAHIME IORI

major: education

• utahime is the reliable upperclassman— the kind of person professors trust and underclassmen go to for advice. she’s well-liked but also has a zero tolerance policy for nonsense.

• she’s the one who tries to keep things orderly in chaotic situations (like when gojo inevitably does something dumb), but it doesn’t always work.

• she’s a hardworking and responsible student who actually studies ahead of time (unlike some of her chaotic friends). she takes meticulous notes, color-codes everything, and is probably the unofficial mom of every group project she’s in.

• she has perfect handwriting, and people always ask to borrow her notes.

• she has a cozy off-campus apartment with a warm aesthetic— think soft lighting, scented candles, and way too many blankets. her place is always tidy, and she’s the type to invite friends over for tea rather than go out to loud parties.

• she has a tea collection that could rival an actual café’s inventory.

• she definitely has a cute little balcony garden where she takes care of plants like they’re her children.

• she loves music and probably plays an instrument (piano or violin, most likely). in her free time, she enjoys reading, visiting cafés, and going to quiet nature spots to relax.

• she’s the type to stress-bake, meaning her friends always have access to homemade treats.

• she also stress-cleans when she’s overwhelmed— if you walk into her apartment and it smells like lemon-scented cleaner, she’s definitely frustrated.

• she’s not a party girl but will attend events only if she trusts the people there. if she does go to a party, she’s the responsible one making sure no one does anything too stupid.

• she’s the friend who remembers everyone’s birthdays and plans thoughtful surprises.

• professors love her because she’s responsible, respectful, and takes her studies seriously. she’s the kind of student who asks insightful questions and actually cares about what she’s learning. if a professor is unfair, though, she will call them out (politely but firmly).

YUKI TSUKUMO

major: anthropology

• yuki is that upperclassman— legendary, unpredictable, and impossible to pin down. she’s known for showing up to class once every two weeks but still acing everything.

• if there’s a student protest, she’s leading it. some people worship her, others think she’s too much, but everyone knows her name.

• she’s banned from certain campus events for stirring up too much chaos.

• she’s insanely smart but does not follow traditional academic rules. she’s the type to write a brilliant essay at the last second while sipping a drink at a bar.

• she has a loft-style off-campus apartment that looks like it belongs to an eccentric genius— random books scattered everywhere, half-finished projects lying around, and somehow, it all works.

• her fridge is mostly empty except for beer, instant ramen, and one healthy thing she forgot about weeks ago.

• she’s always traveling, hiking, or getting involved in some wild adventure. she’s the type to randomly disappear for a weekend trip without telling anyone.

• she loves motorcycles and probably works on one in her free time. if she’s not outside, she’s either deep-diving into conspiracy theories or passionately debating something over drinks.

• she will offer people rides on her motorcycle just to freak them out.

• yuki has zero social anxiety and can talk to anyone. she’s the type to crash a random group’s table at a café and somehow leave with three new friends.

• she’s always at the center of fun, whether it’s an underground party, a debate club event, or a spontaneous road trip. if you hang out with her, expect chaos.

• she always has the best stories, like "that one time i accidentally joined a secret rave in another country."

• most professors are deeply frustrated by her because she refuses to conform to their academic expectations. others recognize her genius and just let her do whatever she wants.

• she’s the student who writes an entire research paper challenging the class material and somehow gets an a.

• she’s impossible to beat in a debate— she thrives on proving people wrong.

• if she calls you at 2 am, it’s either for a life-changing conversation or because she’s about to drag you into something ridiculous.

YU HAIBARA

major: kinesiology

• haibara is the social butterfly of campus. he’s friends with everyone—from professors to the random guy who sits in the back of the lecture hall.

• he’s the type to remember baristas’ names, help people move their stuff, and always have an extra pen for classmates. people love him because he radiates warmth and positivity.

• he’s the kind of student who genuinely enjoys learning and makes class fun for everyone. he’s not a straight-a student, but he tries his best and makes up for it with enthusiasm.

• he’s the guy who shows up to class with a coffee, a big smile, and zero notes, yet still somehow manages to pass.

• he always has gum, snacks, or a spare charger on him.

• he shares a lively on-campus apartment with at least one roommate— his place always has something going on, whether it’s a game night, random people stopping by, or just music playing in the background.

• his room is messy in a controlled chaos way— laundry in a pile, books scattered, but he swears he knows where everything is.

• he’s super active and probably part of multiple clubs— sports teams, volunteer organizations, or even student government (not because he’s super political but because he likes people).

• he has zero sense of direction but refuses to admit it, so he always gets lost on campus.

• he’s the type to randomly drag his friends on outdoor adventures, like hiking or spontaneous road trips. he also definitely watches dumb reality tv and gets way too emotionally invested.

• haibara is the life of the party— he’ll drag you onto the dance floor, challenge someone to a friendly drinking game, and somehow make friends with everyone by the end of the night.

• he’s the guy who hypes you up at karaoke and makes sure no one feels left out. he sings horribly but will still belt out songs with full confidence.

• if you text him "i’m sad," he will show up at your door with snacks and bad jokes.

• professors love him because he’s genuinely engaged in class. even if he’s not the best student, he makes discussions fun and actually cares about learning.

• he’s the one who gets participation points just for making the class laugh. some professors wish he took things a little more seriously, but they can’t dislike him.

• he gives the best pep talks and hypes up his friends constantly.

Welcome to the Show

Hello, hello! I'm Ghoul(they/them) and I write fic, like a lot of fic. This is my Directory

I write in second person(you) so all of my fic can be read as x reader, and you can think of any callsigns/nicknames as your own. However, my fic is technically x oc, if that's not for you no problem! I don't include descriptions or names in any of my fics. MDNI

COD AUs

Cowboys Fae Demons Ballet Medieval Sin Summer Ghost!Ghost Regency Au Cyberpunk Au I want the Darlings

FAQ:

Can I write Fic with your OCs?

Yep! Just tag me in it if you post it.

Can I tell you about an OC I have for [insert au]?

Of course! OC talk is always open, but posting is contained to the morning.

Can I draw you OCs?

Yes. BUT I try to keep their descriptions vague so people can use them as Reader inserts, so I might not post/reblog it if you submit/post the art.

Do you take requests?

Sort of. If you have thoughts I'd love to hear them and if they inspire me I'll write something, but it might not be exactly what you requested. I tend to use asks as jumping off points rather than direct requests.

Do you cross post to anywhere else?

Not currently! If you see my fic elsewhere that isn't me. I don't give my consent to have my work reposted anywhere else.

Could you make a character AI for [insert character or au]?

No. I absolutely abhor ai and hope it crashes and burns before it does any more damage to art and creativity. Role-Play in a discord server like an adult.

Do you have a list of your OCs anywhere?

Yup. Here you go!

Ghoul's Hozier Bullshit

Pillow Princess Ghost